"You have a visitor Ms. Darkholme," the guard announced stiffly.

Mystique looked up from her book, feeling bored. She stretched and allowed the guard to escort her to another room. In another time, another life it felt like, she would have tried to kill him and make a run for it. Although she still had the physical skills to do such a thing she didn't see the point. Besides, she was already getting early release for betraying her betrayer, though even that action had given her no satisfaction.

As she sat down she began to wonder about her visitor. They hadn't allowed her visitors before. The sudden, gut-wrenching thought that it was Charles came before she remembered that Charles was dead. It was too late to fear seeing him again before she had something other than a trail of dead bodies to show for her efforts. He wouldn't thank her if that was all she'd accomplished.

She'd heard the news through a few whispered conversations. It had made her upset but had seemed somehow appropriate. Mystique had lost everything else, why shouldn't she lose a brother too? It was just the sort of thing that would happen to her. She'd started laughing before the laughter dissolved into tears.

Resting one hand on the table she put her chin on top of it. The guard opened the door and at first she didn't recognize the person coming in. Then a memory from twenty years ago flickered and she realized she was looking at an aged Moira. Her 'groovy' hair had faded with grey and her face seemed like she was carrying a great weight.

Carefully she sat down, her hands folded on the table in front of her.

"Thank you, that will be all."

The guard hesitated and Moira let out an irritated sigh.

"I have clearance form a SHIELD agent as well as several other priority clearances," she said, "You can go for now."

The guard hesitated for a moment more and then left the room. The door clicked shut behind him; Mystique knowing he'd probably just gone to get behind the two-way mirror on the other side of the room. Moira gave a long look at Mystique before sighing. As her surprise gave way to irritation at seeing a woman she had loathed for so long Mystique snapped;

"Nice of you to show your face. It's only been twenty years out here in the world."

"I've been busy," Moira said.

"Too busy to be married?" asked Mystique, raising an eyebrow.

Moira gave her an even look. She placed one of her hands flat on the table so Mystique could see the gold band she still wore.

"For some reason you and Erik-"

Mystique glowered at the name but Moira didn't appear to notice.

"-seem to think that we'd gotten a divorce," she said, "I'm not sure how stupid you think I am, but I wasn't stupid enough to leave him."

Her words were a nasty barb and Mystique made a face.

"So where were you?" she demanded.

"Charles sent my son and I to Muir Island," she said calmly, "There was an incident."

"Like?" asked Mystique, wondering what would drive a man who loved his family as much as Charles to send them away.

"A bad one," Moira said, "But I'm here about your release in a few days."

"Going to ask me to stay clear of your precious pets?"

Again Moira sighed. She clasped her hands in front of her and said;

"I'm asking you where you plan on getting your medical treatment."

Mystique blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know how much they tell you here," said Moira, "But an hour ago The Cure was declared defective."

She nearly cried out in relief.

"But it has the rather nasty side effect of killing anyone it was administered to," continued Moira, "I'm here to offer you treatment so you won't meet that fate. We'll pick you up as soon as possible if you accept."

Mystique stared at her.

"I feel fine."

"For now," said Moira, "Look, you don't like me and you don't trust me. That's fine; that's your decision. But I don't want to see you dead. And…"

She hesitated. Mystique cocked her head at the older woman, wondering what it had taken to say those words. Despite herself she found some respect for the woman.

"…your son doesn't either."

The respect quickly melted away.

"I don't have a son," she spat.

Moira raised an eyebrow.

"His name is Kurt. We're not sure who the father is but Charles was certain you were-"

"He was wrong," snapped Mystique.

"Think back," Moira said, sounding frustrated and irritated, "I'm sure you remember having a child."

Her anger bubbled over.

"If you must know, miss perfect," she snarled, "I was pregnant once. But I miscarried!"

Her words were a snarl and it was only after she said them that she realized how much she'd revealed. Mystique's fist pounded into the table with each following word.

"I. HAVE. NO. SON!"

The door opened and the guard rushed in. Moira waved him away and, when he was gone, turned her attention back to Mystique. She looked surprised but unconvinced.

"Kurt's DNA says otherwise," said Moira.

She stared at her, feeling nameless emotions churning in her stomach and clattering around in her head.

"You…you did a DNA test?" she asked tentatively.

"Charles wouldn't decide something like this lightly," said Moira, "Now Kurt's been living as my nephew and cousin to my son for several months now. I believe you met him when you went to Alkali Lake with the X-Men."

An image of a strange young man with golden eyes flickered through her head. She'd remembered wondering briefly if he was somehow related to her former lover Azazel. They both had the pointed ears, tails, and fangs. The more she thought about it the sicker she felt. He was related; he was his son. He was a perfect mixture of the two of them. How could she have not seen it?

Because they told you you miscarried, a voice in her head whispered, But you never looked for a body, did you?

"They…they told me I miscarried," she said, her voice quaking.

"And Kurt's adopted parents told him they found him left for dead in a well," said Moira, "But I don't think that's true. I never thought you'd abandon your son."

She scanned Moira's face for a hint of molly coddling. Grudgingly she had to admit that Moira was telling the truth; she had thought that.

"I make no promises about when or if you can meet him," Moira said, "Because that's up to Kurt. I'm honestly not sure if he's ready."

Mystique laughed.

"That's okay," she said bitterly, "I'm not sure I am either. But…I'll go to Muir Island."

The last game of chess Erik had played had been with Charles over a year ago in prison. It had actually been the only thing that they had done on Charles' first visit. He'd been too angry with him at first to do anything other than move his pieces. After all; he would never have the opportunity he'd had on Liberty Island ever again.

Of course, no one was on the other side of the board this time. It was just him and the pieces. He'd always seen himself as the King on the board, black of course. It had always been in Charles' nature to seek the lighter things in life while Erik slunk in the shadows. It didn't matter. Charles could play the hero all he wanted but he knew he'd win in the end.

That was what he'd thought in any case. Charles had, though dead, still managed to win at Alcatraz. It had come at a cost but he hadn't had his mutation stripped away from him. Erik was no longer the King on the chessboard; he was a pawn if he was an actual figurine. It was more likely that he was a square to be trodden on, or perhaps he didn't even exist on the board anymore. He was alone now; that made sense.

With a sigh he reached out to touch a piece. Some sixth sense whispered to him that he should try to move it like he always had in the past. Erik would have laughed out loud if the suggestion hadn't been so inherently tragic. However, something nudged him towards doing it, and he narrowed his eyes in concentration.

A second passed and nothing happened. Then the piece wobbled. It wasn't much, but it was there. He nearly started in shock. Something akin to satisfaction welled up in him. He was whole again; he was back on the board. Maybe it would take months or years but he would become the King soon.

He was so lost in his musings that he didn't notice the footsteps that approached him. He didn't notice the clicking of heels on concrete. Erik didn't even notice the chair being moved slightly and another person sitting down in it. When he finally did look up he found himself looking into the green eyes of his daughter.

He started and instinctively pushed his chair back. She put a hand out as though to stop him, a look of desperation on her face. Realizing that he wasn't about to be thrown in prison, he knew she wouldn't look so calm if he was, he settled down. Lorna gave a tentative smile and an old anger that she wouldn't smile at him like she used to returned.

"Thank you," she said.

Erik shifted in his seat but didn't meet her eyes again. Lorna noticed this and looked down.

"What are you doing here?" he asked finally, "How did you even find me?"

All of his words to her in recent years seemed so cruel, especially since he could tell how much she had probably gone through to come to him. Yet, there was still hurt there that she hadn't gone with him in the first place. Two metal benders against the world. It could have been a wonderful force. Why had Charles managed to take this from him?

"Well, David found you," she said, "Your…your X-gene is suppressed; not gone. It took a lot out of him though. He's not used to using Cerebro and...I think he's been sick lately."

Erik thought back to the boy that he'd seen three times; only once in person. As a baby he'd seen Moira holding him before she went upstairs with Mystique. The second time had been when Hank had been elected to the Senate, receiving congratulations from supporters. The third and final time had been at Charles' funeral.

David was the splitting image of his father as he'd been when Erik had first met him. Admittedly he was thinner and a little taller. He'd inherited the strangely blue eyes and the know-it-all smirk though. The only real difference was the auburn hair that had grown on his head; a gift from his mother. It was the only mutation he'd received from her.

"So you found me," he said, "Congratulations. I'm assuming from your lack of back-up that I'm not being taken to prison. Or is one feeble old man not considered a threat anymore?"

Lorna smoothed her skirt.

"I'm sorry they gave you The Cure," said Lorna.

He continued not looking at her; he was afraid she'd see his recent revelation on his face. He'd beaten it somehow and he knew she'd tell her fellow X-Men. It might hurt her but ultimately it was where her loyalties lay.

"But it's dangerous," she said, "It's going to start fading, infecting and killing you. Hank tells me that they gave you three syringes adn that makes it so much worse, why everyone had to be convinced that you had to come to Muir Island instead of leaving it to the government...and I...I..."

Her voice trailed off and Erik frowned.

"Pardon?"

"The Cure…the chemicals are wrong. Hank did an analysis because of Amanda," she said, "The woman who saved my children."

She hadn't had to supply the additional information. Moira's drop of the name had been enough for him to remember it forever. One pinprick of light amongst darkness.

"It's going to keep going down the DNA strand, destroying all regulatory systems," she said, "I'm here to offer you sanctuary at Muir Island so we can monitor it and make sure nothing happens."

"Yes, so you can hand me over to the authorities the moment I become healthy again," snorted Erik, "No thank you."

"I wouldn't do that."

Her words were firm and defiant; leaving no room for argument. Erik suddenly realized how his words sounded.

"Not you," said Erik dismissively, "You're not…never mind."

Although he hadn't been able to find the words for it he could see that the few he did say made the world of difference to Lorna. She reached across the table and placed her hand on his wrist. The contact; the first in a very long time, made his eyes flicker up to hers. She watched him steadily and said;

"David is offering Sanctuary. You can trust him."

"Charles' son has no reason to trust me," he said stiffly.

Lorna bit her lip.

"If you can't trust him, trust me father. Trust me."

Her voice became quieter.

"My children are there," murmured Lorna, "You could see them…I could…don't worry about Alex. I'll make sure that everything will be okay."

Erik swallowed. In many ways she was like him; he had used the same technique to get Mystique to visit Lorna twenty years before. All he'd had to do was tempt her with a relative. At the same time Lorna's promise was more than just reassuring. It was a vow and he knew his daughter didn't break her word lightly. To have her word on something was ironclad. It was also more preferable to dying slowly and painfully.

"Alright Lorna," he said, his voice measured, "Alright. Just for the time being."

A smile spread across her face, one of desperate relief.

"Of course."