Chapter 25

In the morning, they made love. At first Azazel was hesitant, questioning Mystique several times if she was sure it was what she wanted. Despite Mystique's positive reply, Azazel's touch was far gentler than ever before, as if her body had suddenly become delicate overnight. Mystique smiled inwardly at her partner's newfound, slightly awkward tenderness. The red mutant walked a thin line between fierce killer and dedicated lover; she wondered how fatherhood was going to shape his actions in the coming months.

Afterwards they lay for a long time facing each other and in hushed tones discussed their past week apart and their future with a child. As they talked, Azazel drifted the palm of his hand from Mystique's hip to her stomach. It was far too early in her pregnancy for him to feel anything – Mystique knew she wouldn't even show for another two months at least – but the gesture brought her a level of comfort she hadn't realized she craved until the brush of his fingertips trigger the diffusion of imaginary weight from her shoulders. Azazel seemed to be taking everything now in a cool stride that betrayed the heat of his first reaction. Fire and ice indeed, Mystique thought as she watched his tail twitch like a complacent cat.

"I am sorry I said those things to you." Regret flickered across Azazel's eyes as he regarded Mystique with a mixture of reserved awe and curiosity. "It was not right."

"Azazel, it's alright," Mystique brushed back a stray lock of hair from his brow. This was the third time Azazel apologized that morning. While it was nice to hear, it was making Mystique feel increasingly guiltier about her own behavior during her mate's absence. A lump formed in her throat when she thought about the doctor's office and what she almost did. "We both said things we didn't mean. We were upset."

Azazel nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back into his pillow and letting out a long breath. He brought his hand up from her stomach and caught hers as she pulled away from his hair. Lacing his fingers in hers, he slowly ran his thumb across the ridges of her knuckles. After a moment, he turned to face her. "I want to ask," his icy gaze studying her seriously, "if the child is a boy…Kurt for his name?"

"Kurt?" Mystique raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Da, Kurt. Father Daytolv's name. Without him…" Azazel furrowed his brows before shrugging. "Well, he is reason we survived." Mystique suddenly recalled the meadow and the first time she bested Azazel in a training fight. Illya Kurt Wagner, of course. For a brief second, Mystique could feel the breeze on her skin, hear the birds in the trees, and taste Azazel's blood on her lips; she closed her eyes and imagined she could hear the little heart beating inside her; how far have we come since that day? She hadn't thought too much about names given the turmoil of the last few weeks, but now that Azazel broached the subject…Mystique cleared her throat.

"Yes, Kurt for a boy; but if we have a girl…" Mystique bit her lip. "Maybe we could call her Adriana?" Azazel blinked rapidly a few times, processing her statement. He squeezed her hand a bit harder but did not utter a sound. Mystique swiftly backtracked, "…that is, if it's alright with you." Azazel remained silent for a long moment before releasing Mystique's hand.

"Adri…," his voice broke and he looked down. After a few seconds, he nodded. "Da, I would like that very much." Azazel pulled Mystique to him tightly, and silence descended upon their conversation. She sighed, content to simply lay in the comfort of his arms.

The bright light of early afternoon pooled through the window, making lakes of light on the bedroom floor. Mystique crinkled her nose as she felt a familiar itching in the back of her mind pulling her out of slumber. Sighing, she rolled over and stretched before sitting up and turned to face Azazel. The blue mutant knew Charles was alerting her that lunch was ready. Ever since she healed enough to move around the mansion, her brother wasted no time in reminding her that she had to take better care of herself for the sake of the baby's health. It irritated her sometimes that Charles considered her too reckless to figure that out on her own. Part of Mystique wondered how much of Charles's concern stemmed from Moira, as her brother's wife was constantly remaindering her that she was "living for two" now. At a recent dinner Mystique almost lashed out at Moira when the woman commented about Mystique's need to eat more vegetables, but when the blue girl opened her mouth to deliver a snarky remark, her tongue was silenced by Charles's telepathy.

Raven, be civil. Charles had raised an eyebrow at her across the table while the others, oblivious to the mental conversation, continued to clink silverware against their dishes. Dinners joined by Brotherhood members were tense enough without her starting a fight.

Charles, I…

Look at her Raven. Charles's eyes darted to his wife as she cut her food. Please, just look at her for before you speak. Moira looked at Mystique and for a fleeting second, was Mystique saw a glimmer of sadness in Moira's face before she was able to brush it away. Charles released his sister's voice but Mystique found she suddenly had nothing to say. She excused herself from the table shortly thereafter, part of her stinging with guilt that Moira was only concerned for a baby she could never conceive herself.

Mystique sighed at the memory and put her hand on Azazel's chest, watching it rise and fall with his breath.

"Azazel?"

"Lyuba?" His voice was heavy with sleep.

"We should probably make an appearance at lunch, let everyone know you're back." Azazel grunted in reply and put his hand over hers, but made no other move.

"Azazel?"

"Getting up means putting clothes back on." Azazel quirked an eyebrow at Mystique and she smirked.

"You don't have to; I'm sure if you showed up naked it would make even more of an impression." Azazel laughed loudly at her remark. Mystique smiled. He might be an ass sometimes, but god, it's good to have him back.

Despite wearing clothing, lunch was quite an affair. Mystique and Azazel appeared in the kitchen together, causing a chain reaction of shrieks. Only Charles seemed unsurprised by his return, taking in the scene sudden appearance of the mutants with dignity as Sean and Angel scrambled to clean up the upset plates. Mystique was surprised to see so many of the mansion's inhabitants sitting together in the kitchen; by the look of irritated concentration on Emma and Charles's faces, she gathered quickly that the two telepaths were working hard to keep the peace. Despite the two powerful mutants, Alex looked-up from his seat to occasionally glare at the Brotherhood members, and Hank was again absent from the table. Mystique frowned. Ever since the Brotherhood moved into the mansion, Hank seemed to have developed the ability to be invisible as well.

After pulling out a chair for Mystique, Azazel sat next to Emma and wasted no time discussing plans with Erik. Angel prepared Mystique's food and immediately nodded towards Azazel and smiled. Mystique shook her head and put her finger to her lips, letting Angel know silently that she'd tell her everything later. The remaining Brotherhood members acted as if nothing was amiss, preferring to give their teammates privacy.

Afterwards as the various mutants disappeared from the kitchen, Mystique found herself alone with Sean and Jean clearing dishes. Erik, Azazel, and Emma left to scout out a new headquarters. Despite Charles's best efforts to reunite the teams, Mystique knew it was only a matter of time before their stay came to an end. Tensions were running high, and it was only a matter of time before another fight broke-out between the two sides. Sean and Jean chatted excitedly about the latest gossip, and Mystique listened idly to their banter while washing the glasses.

"…then I said, 'Ok, fine, I'll knock first!' And that ended that argument." Sean held-up his hands and smiled triumphantly as he finished his story. Jean clamped her hands over her mouth as she squealed in laughter.

"Sometimes I swear it's like Hank's your brother," Jean snickered. "Only not through blood."

"Yeah, well, he's more related to Raven over here," Sean nodded at the blue girl, "through blood." Mystique looked up sharply at the sound of her human name.

"What do you mean by that?" Sean met Mystique's stare with surprise followed by a flush of embarrassment.

"Well, I mean Rave, you know…" his voice trailed off and he looked at his feet. Mystique narrowed her eyes.

"No I don't know 'what you mean,'" she crossed her arms, soapy water dripping down to the floor.

"Raven, that whole cure thing…"

"That wasn't my fault!" Mystique hissed. Jean took a step back, her eyes wide and her smile falling away at Mystique's sudden outburst. Mystique took a deep break and calmed herself. The last thing she needed was Jean to get worked-up and lose control over her mutation. "Sean, Hank shot himself up with that… that cure or whatever he called it. I gave him some blood to study for it, but I never told him to do it. I didn't want him to do it." Sean furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"No, it's not that at all. You…you don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"The blood transfusion?" Mystique raised an eyebrow and titled her head. Where is he going with this?

"When red dude brought you here, you were a real mess. You were torn right up and bleeding so much…" Sean shook his head at the memory. "We were having dinner and he just showed-up in the middle of the room holding you and he had this sword and was yelling in some other language...I mean, we had no idea. We thought he might have…" Sean looked pleadingly at Mystique. "It looked bad." Mystique could only imagine what it must have looked like for Azazel to appear unannounced, brandishing a sword with her severely wounded in his arms. She was suddenly never so happy to have a telepath for a brother.

"Go on."

"Right, like I said, you were torn right up. We put you on the table and Hank and Charles tried to help but you were losing blood faster than they could stop it, even with your healing abilities. There was a moment when we thought we'd lose you for sure, then Hank suggested the transfusion. Red dude practically ripped off his shirt offering his blood but he wasn't a match. But then Hank got this look on his face…" Sean shrugged. "I guess because of that cure, you and Hank are perfect matches. Hank gave blood until he passed out. It was just barely enough, but it worked."

"I didn't…" Mystique swallowed and felt dizzy. She put her hand on the counter behind her to brace herself. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, well, that's that." Sean nodded. "You might…I dunno, you might want to thank him or something."

"Hank doesn't want to see me."

"Yes he does Mystique." Mystique spun around at the timid sound of Jean's voice. For a second, Mystique had forgotten that she was even in the room.

"How do you…?" Jean interrupted by smiling shyly and tapping on her temple. That's right, she's telepathic. Mystique rubbed her arm and looked at the redheaded girl. Jean shrugged. "He's usually in the lab after dinnertime, and late at night. Just…if you wanted to know."

"Yeah, but knock first if you go. Trust me." Sean offered Mystique a weak smile. Mystique turned back to wash the dishes in silence while she thought about what to do.

Mystique walked slowly and as silent as a prowling cat. The held the tray in front of her carefully so it didn't rock, and was slightly impressed with how good she was getting at sneaking down dark hallways. She had waited until it was late and most of the mansion's inhabitants were asleep – including Azazel - as she wanted privacy for her midnight mission. Mystique paused in front of her destination – a large white door that read "LAB" – and took several deep breaths. She hoped her racing heart wasn't audible beyond her own ears. Collecting her courage, she swallowed and pushed the door open.

"Sean, seriously. How many times…?" Hank's voice fell when he turned from the microscope and faced Mystique. As he started at her in silence, his mouth hung open and revealing a pair of pearl fangs. In a flash, a glass slide accidentally crunched in Hank's claws and broken bits fell to the floor. Swearing under his breath, he bend down quickly to retrieve the broken shards. As she watched Hank scramble to clean the mess, she realized it was the first time she ever really studied his mutation. Everything had happened so fast that last day on the beach she never really got to really look at him past the superficial changes. Mystique was surprised to notice the faint stripes in his fur, the marbles of blue that painted his skin. He was bigger now, a full body of muscles and raw animal power, but underneath it there was still a delicacy, and uncertainty of how to interact with the world around him. Somehow his cure unleashed the full potential of his mutation, but he was still very much a lion without a roar. When Hank looked back up at her, she noticed that his eyes were the same amber as hers. Mystique wondered if that was a coincidence or a curse. She swallowed and forced a smile.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?" He looked at her mistrusting. She was hurt by the tone in his voice but tried her best to brush it away. She held up the tray as a peace offering.

"I brought you hot cocoa and Oreos." Hank looked at her suspiciously, ignoring the tray.

"Raven, I…"

"What are you working on now?" Mystique ignored Hank's reaction and walked toward him. She placed the tray on the counter and turned to look at the microscope. Hank scowled.

"It's nothing."

"Un-huh. That's what you always say." Mystique looked into the microscope and Hank fidgeted next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how uncomfortable he looked. "What am I looking at?"

"Cellular division with X-genes. I'm trying to map out patterns of mutation emergence." Hank sighed when Mystique straighten-up and faced him. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to thank you." Mystique took a seat on the chair behind her and faced Hank, who immediately started moving objects around on the desk to avoid eye contact. His own nervousness was making it easier for her to be candid. "I wanted to thank you for the blood transfusion, and for helping when Azazel brought me here that night."

"Oh, I …" Hank nodded. After a hesitation, he met her gaze. "Yeah, sure. You're welcome. It was no big deal."

"No, it was a big deal. Hank, you saved my life." Rave smiled warmly. "Thank you." Hank nodded and smiled in return.

"So…you're, uh," he cleared his throat. "You're gonna be a mom, huh?"

"Yeah, crazy isn't it?" Mystique instinctively put her hand on her stomach. She laughed. "Me - a mom! I never though that would happen."

"Does he treat you alright?"

"Who?" Mystique raised an eyebrow. "Azazel?" Hank nodded. "Yeah, he treats me alright. Great, actually."

"He's always disappearing."

"That's what he does – he's a teleporter." Mystique tried to lighten the mood. She didn't like where the conversation was headed. Hank rolled his eyes.

"Raven, you know what I mean."

"He loves me. I can't explain it, but he does, and yes we fight and sometimes he needs space, but at the end of it all he always comes back." The weight of Mystique's words hit her as she spoke them. Azazel had a way of talking that didn't require words, and together they had developed a language.

"I should have been better to you." Hank looked away from her for a few seconds, and Mystique reached out and put her hand gently over his. At her touch, Hank quickly turned to face her. Mystique frowned when she realized the leonine mutant was close to tears.

"I'm so sorry Raven. Until this happened," he motioned with his hands to his furry body, "I had not idea what you felt. What this is really like." Hank paused to catch a sob in his throat. "I should have been better." He swallowed and shook his head. "Maybe you wouldn't have left."

"Oh Hank…don't do this." Mystique's frown deepened. "It wasn't you. It was just...everything. I felt so trapped here. After the fight on the beach, I knew I had to take a different path. We all made hard choices that day."

Hank nodded but would not meet her gaze. She didn't feel that he believed her. Suddenly, Hank grabbed her hands tightly, his claws digging into her scales. Mystique jumped up from her chair at his suddenly gesture, her hands firmly held by his. He had a look in his eye betraying the wild nature of his mutation.

"Hank…?"

"I love you Raven. I always have."

"Hank, no…"

"Yes," Hank nodded his head as if that would clear matters up. "I've loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. The real you, the blue you," Hank added when Mystique opened her mouth to protest. Hank squeezed her hands tighter. His claws were starting to hurt, and his erratic behavior was frightening her. Mystique looked around her for a way out of the situation. "I couldn't see it then, but I know now. You're perfect Raven, you're perfect and I love you and…"

"You should not be out of bed so late, devotchka." Mystique turned suddenly at the sound of Azazel's voice. The red mutant looked coolly at her and Hank from the laboratory door. Hank stared at him and curled his lip into a silent snarl. Mystique took the opportunity to yank her hands out of Hank's and took a few steps away. In a blink of an eye, Azazel appeared next to her, his gaze never leaving Hank. Without taking his eyes off Hank's face, Azazel grabbed Mystique by the wrist. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fingertips of his free hand brush the tip of his dagger. Despite her fear, she faced Hank and forced a smile.

"Hank, I just wanted to say hello, and thank you for the blood." A look of profound sadness flashed across the leonine mutant eyes. He uncurled his lip and took a step back. After a minute he nodded and turned his back to the pair.

The lab disappeared and was replaced by her bedroom walls. Mystique coughed as the smoke faded. Azazel dropped her wrist and slunk away, his tail lashing wildly behind him.

"What?"

"What?' He echoed back. Azazel stopped by the dresser and crossed his arms, tapping his fingers on his elbow and looking at her with a sour expression. Oh, I can't believe this. She looked at him puzzled before a smile grew on her face.

"Why Illya Wagner, are you jealous?" Azazel twitched at the sound of his human name as if bitten by a fly. He scowled and did not seem in the mood for her game.

"You need rest. You push yourself too much. Is not good for the baby."

"Yes, mother." Azazel narrowed his eyes muttered something in Russian. Mystique frowned. He knew how much that irritated her. "What did you say?" Azazel slammed his open hand on the dresser, making a noise loud enough to make Mystique jump. He was clearly frustrated.

"You should not be alone with him."

"You don't trust me."

"I do not trust him."

"Azazel, really I cannot believe you are jealous of Hank." Azazel held his hands out wide, motioning to the room surrounding them.

"You think I do not know I cannot give you these things? Security? Safety? House like this?" He motioned once more for emphasis. "With the baby coming, we need to make changes. There are only so many things I can change for you. I cannot give you these things." He crossed his arms again and looked at her defiantly.

"You think I care about this stuff?" Mystique had dropped her voice to a whisper. She could see how deeply this issue bothered her mate. Azazel didn't response, but dropped his gaze. She walked across the room and stood in front of him.

"Look at me." Azazel hesitated, and then looked down into Mystique's eyes. She reached up and touched his face, tracing the scar along his cheek. He turned his head slightly into her hand.

"You think I'd rather be here or with Hank than with you?" Mystique shakes her head and grabs his arms, uncrossing them and inserting herself. "Azazel, I don't care if we live in a castle or a house or in a box under the freeway for fuck's sake. I just want to be with you. We'll find a way. We did before, we'll do again." She pushed closer to him. "You and me. We'll find a way." Azazel buried his face in her hair and held her tightly.

"Da, we find."

Author's Note: Happy Holidays!