A little warning: I suppose some people won't like the way the story goes from here. I promise, it will all make (more or less) sense at the end. Hopefully. As much as anything may make sense in the X-Men reality.
Let me know how you see it.
Moira and Erik: Determined
She knew her room by heart at that point. The small window somewhere behind her, the machines around her - fortunately, some of them had been removed or turned off by now, as her condition improved - her bed, the chairs next to it - more than ever needed, as Erik had been the only visitor - the sparse decorations, the nightstand, the coat rack, the shelf on which nurses placed all items they brought in. There wasn't much to learn, but still, she made a daily review of the room just to give her brain something to do. She had run out of reading material very quickly, even including re-reads of the ridiculous medical romances that Jean had sent, and she was on the verge of asking nurses for some girly magazine from the waiting room, just to give herself something to focus on.
She could hope that Erik would bring something, too, but didn't want to burden him with worrying for her mental state too much. Still, she could probably ask him for some of her books from home.
I will. As soon as he comes back.
There was always some kind of sign of him when she woke up, even if he himself was absent. This time it was his gray umbrella, hanging from the back of a chair and a rolled-up newspaper on the bedside table. His coat wasn't in the room, as far as she could see, so she made an educated guess and deduced that he had probably just gone for a smoke.
"Good morning, Mrs Stein" a young nurse came in with her tray. "Your husband went outside - we told him to get himself something to eat. The poor man looks positively starved, and the hospital cafeteria is nothing to write home about. Now, the doc said you're allowed to eat something with more substance today, so we've upgraded you from thin porridge to... thick porridge."
Moira couldn't stop the snort and the nurse smiled in agreement.
"Exactly. Now, you are also allowed to drink actual proper tea today, so in celebration of the fact I've brought a box you can choose from" she offered Moira a big container of mixed tea bags.
"Do you have any Earl Grey?" Moira asked finally, after searching in vain for a moment.
"Sure, there should be this green label on it... Oh, here" the nurse fished out one of the bags. "I'll prepare it for you now, and once you've eaten, you can also have some jelly. There's strawberry and raspberry, or so they say. I don't see any difference between them."
"Strawberry, please" Moira smiled as the energetic young woman marched away with her chosen teabag, and then focused on eating the bland porridge - yes, at least this time it had some substance and maybe a hint of salt.
In a minute or two the nurse was back and placed the cup on her tray, accompanied by a bowl of red jelly.
"I will make notes about your stats while you're eating, and once you're done, we can check if you are up to getting out of that bed."
Moira's eyes widened at the suggestion.
"Already?" she asked between spoons.
"Well, doc Manson said you should start at least trying to walk, because you've been in bed for so long. And with the stitches out and the incisions all healed nicely, why shouldn't you?"
"I…" she trailed off, looking at Erik's umbrella. "I am a bit afraid. I got so sick, I was sick for so long. What if I break something just by standing? I don't want to set it all back…"
"But if you don't stand, you won't be able to leave" the nurse said sensibly. "And then your poor husband will lose his position - whatever he is doing, they must be missing him at work - and where will you be?"
Moira sipped her tea and delighted in the calm, rich taste.
"I…" she couldn't put her thoughts together. "I don't know what to do. I can't keep him from work any longer - the school is down two teachers with both of us absent - but I know he is afraid that something will happen to me when he's not watching. It's a miracle you even managed to convince him to leave for a meal..."
The nurse patted her arm.
"Now, now, Mrs Stein - Moira? Can I just call you Moira? I am Annie. And I will be helping you to re-learn the fabulous skill of standing up. Eat your jelly and we'll start working on getting you vertical."
She was exhausted. Just eating her breakfast and standing up on her own legs took it out of her. She was drifting away, curled on her side, when she heard the door open.
"Moira?"
She could barely acknowledge his presence. Even noticing it was an effort.
"Moira, what is wrong?"
After all this time, his hands no longer felt incorrect, actually. They just became a different type of correct. And now he was hauling her up, into half-sitting position and she no longer felt the surprise and revulsion of the first days.
"Moira?" he shook her shoulders slightly.
"Ah" she gasped. "The exercises. PT. I think I must have… kids say "space out" now, don't they?"
His lips weren't really made for smiling, unlike Charles', but the thin smirk suited them just fine.
"Yea, this is what they say. What exercises?"
"They made me stand up" she complained.
Now he laughed.
"And that was all it took to wear out the incredible Moira? I will be sure to remember that."
"Well, if I don't exercise, I won't get discharged and then you'll be stuck driving out here all the time, unless you finally get smarter and get back to work."
He looked at her seriously.
"And leave you here, alone? The boys would have my guts if I ever did it."
She laughed quietly.
"Of course they would" she gasped and coughed. And coughed again. And again. And then she couldn't really cough, because there was no more air coming into her lungs.
There were black spots dancing in front of her eyes.
And suddenly there was movement and someone was putting a mask over her face.
"Breathe, Moira. Breathe, dammit."
"It's asthma" the pulmonologist said. "And really, really, I have no idea how this…" she slammed the clipboard on the table. "I'm sorry, Mr Stein. I understand you want to take your wife back home, but at least a week more. We have to get medicines adjusted for her, which will take a few days, and then we need to make sure nothing new comes up. All this worries me" she admitted finally. "She's been here for six weeks, starting with coma and the things that she went through then, and now this asthma… We can't really say that she will ever properly recover. You may have to accept the fact that she may be bedridden - and that you will need to arrange for prolonged care for her. Probably hire a nurse, or physiotherapist. Or both."
"This is not an issue. Moira will get all the care she needs. I just need you to write exactly what has to be done and I will have it all set by the time she's ready to come home."
She looked at him doubtfully, but then she picked up her books and left, promising him a full description of her suggestions for the next day.
They only allowed her to take the mask off after three days of pumping her full of steroids, anti-histamines and anti-inflammation cocktails. There were small grooves in her face where the mask had cut into her skin. He was quite angry about it, for some reason he couldn't identify specifically.
Moira looked at Erik as he stood by the door, watching the nurses running in all directions.
"Erik."
She almost never addressed him by his name - where he used hers liberally. It still felt slightly stilted for her. But it got his attention.
"Do you need anything?" he sat by the bed, leaning slightly towards her, tentative ghost of a smile turning his lips up.
She breathed, once, twice…
"I need you to hold me, for just a moment" she said finally, not really looking him in the eyes.
"Wha…" he stuttered.
"I know it's not something that you'd normally do…" she shrugged. "I just..."
Still, in seconds there were arms around her, pulling her up, propping her against an additional pillow he snatched from the cabinet. And then he was, actually, holding her.
She swallowed and relaxed, just minutely, against his flannel-clad shoulder.
"You do know you smell like the school" she whispered, more of a loose remark than a real question.
"Hank actually came to me and demanded I hand over every piece of clothing I have" he explained lightly. "He said I can dress however I want in my free time, but at the school I'm supposed to at least not look like a victim of some unfortunate industrial accident. So he took away all of my clothes and confined them to the laundry room and sent my suits to be cleaned. He had to find me replacements from the vast stores of the Xavier mansion, including, well. This."
They sat like that for a few more heartbeats.
"I also borrowed Charles' cologne" he admitted finally. "Run out of mine and didn't have time to restock."
"Ah" she gave a tiny snort. "What else?"
"Well, I do live in that huge, wooden mansion my best friend keeps calling 'home', and I think all the clothes there smell of floor wax anyway, and my coat hangs in that big cedar-lined wardrobe in the cloak room..."
She nodded slowly.
"Erik, I…" she sighed. "I really want to get out of here. Please, make sure Hank has all the help he needs. He will try to do it all himself, and then he'll fall on his face… I need to be healthy enough to go back. I can't keep you here, you are needed at school. I am needed at school. But if I just leave now, or even in a week, like they say, I'll still be useless if we don't work out how to fix me. I don't know what is wrong with me, and I'm scared. Erik, I'm scared."
She couldn't raise her head, because looking him in the eyes after that confession would have been too much. She had just openly admitted weakness to a man that had once tried to strangle her with her own dogtags. Even worse, she was sitting on her hospital bed, being held - very gingerly - by said man, her cheek touching the soft flannel of his shirt, his hand cradling her head - and she took comfort from that. His slow breathing and his steady heartbeat were actually quite calming.
Working on figuring out her own emotions would be probably the thing to do over the next few days.
"Alex and Jean are baking cheesecake."
"What?" she tried to look at him, but he held her just a tiny bit tighter and she relaxed again. He turned his face partially into her hair and she could feel his breath on the skin of her neck.
"Alex and Jean are baking cheesecake, for Scott, because by all accounts it is Scott's - and Alex's - favourite cake, and Scott hadn't had a chance to eat any since before the orphanage. Scott and Ororo are clearing the schoolgrounds, because they were being annoying and Charles decided they need to spend their detention in some useful manner. Raven is officially recovered, as of today morning. She can't change, but at least she doesn't switch between forms every five minutes and she can walk by herself, not tripping over her own feet. Kurt is fine, just trailing Raven like a puppy ever since she accidentally spilt the beans about being his mother."
"WHAT?"
"Shh. Yes. Our dear little Raven apparently had a secret and it is called Kurt. Now, where was I?"
"Sharing random gossip from the school…"
"Yes. Because you need to know that they are fine. Mostly, of course, Banshee still wears a cast, because he had been an idiot and overused his broken arm just after the first cast was taken off. Um. Ororo still sometimes protests against shoes, but Jean is introducing her to the wonderful world of high heels and she seems hooked. Scott and Alex have this weird thing going when they don't communicate beside calling each other 'dork', 'cretin', 'goody two shoes' and 'idiot' and then suddenly they go play soccer or take apart a broken car engine and start talking normally. I think they need the school consuelor to resolve this, because Charles is useless with these two."
She inhaled sharply.
"Charles is a mess" he whispered, a bit hoarsely, after a pause. "Charles is a bloody mess and he needs you. Jean and him are helping each other with their telepathy - that girl is actually scaring me sometimes, you know? But he's been working on Raven for the last five weeks, almost non-stop - just switching with Jean, so he's so worn out he falls asleep over supper. The younger kids are mostly fine, as they weren't using their powers during the attack, so the worst thing they have to survive now is general moodiness of everyone. Also, Hank is now a regular at the gym. He says that as the Beast he may be ripped, but he wants to actually exercise, so he takes his shots, switches to his old scrawny self and lifts. He said he needs to be able to use his muscles without having to, I quote, 'call the blue one for backup'."
She managed a soft giggle.
"Thank you" she whispered. "It helps. A bit."
"No problem."
She sighed deeply, inhaling the school scent he carried on himself. It did seem to be having a calming effect, as her heart slowed down and she could think more and more clearly.
"Erik, could you give them all a message from me?"
He straightened up and leaned a bit away, looking at her.
"Sure. Whatever you need."
"Well. Tell the children to play nice and that if the reading assignments are not done before I get back, there will be Consequences. And tell the boys to play nice, or I'll have a Talk with them. And…" she closed her eyes. "And give a message to Charles, too. If you don't mind."
"Not at all."
He had to admit later that she caught him by surprise. Because here they were, sitting on her hospital bed, her in her godawful pastel pink nightdress and plaited hair and him in his borrowed flannel shirt and suddenly there were her lips pressed to his.
Moira. Kissing him.
And somehow, some way, it didn't seem all that wrong or weird or complicated.
So instead of letting her go the second she started to pull away, he moved one hand to the nape of her neck, slightly adjusting the angle, and deepened the kiss.
She gasped and they separated slightly, just minutely, to let themselves breathe.
"Ach" he could only think of a single syllable comment. "Are you sure?"
"Well" she sighed. "Almost."
"And you want me to give this message to Charles?"
"Verbatim. Time, place, audience - up to you. But I want you to be quite literal."
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"If you wish. I will. I'll be back tomorrow morning, love."
"I'll be here."
"Well" nurse Harrison's eyes were twinkling as she brought a tray with tea not five minutes after Erik left. "That was.. Something else."
Moira blushed and looked down at her hands.
"I hope we didn't break any hospital rules…"
"Darling, he would have to have his way with you on the corridor in front of the paediatric ward before someone deemed it inappropriate for this hospital. Also, with a husband that hot, I'm surprised you managed to hold off this long."
"I was too sick to think about it" Moira sank to her pillows slowly. "I always had a tube, or a mask, or something else on my face. And then I was mostly coughing, or in pain, or…"
"Well, if you say so" the woman went around the room, drawing the curtains open. "But, well. I suppose. With what happened, he might have been a little... " she coughed. "Well. Not that into it."
Moira felt heat rising in her face.
"I suppose that… that may be true."
I wonder what Charles will… Oh my God.
She went completely still.
"Moira? Moira, something wrong?"
"No" she relaxed and fell even deeper into her pillow. "No, nothing wrong."
Or, at least, nothing that I can stop now. God, MacTaggert, what did you start? Are you crazy?
Actually, now that she thought about it, she might be.
