Authors note: I don't know what the real name's of Kurt's parents are, but
for this fic I have named then Heinrich and Claudia.
Xing@fanfiction.net - well spotted! This fic has been going on a long time - since last summer, I think - and when I first began writing it I had only watched about half of season one and read a couple of fics about season two characters, so I gave Kitty a crush on Lance. Of course in the time that I have been writing this fic, things happened between them and then they broke up. In my AU, lets just assume that all that happened too. I probably should have written something about it, but it didn't serve to further the plot that I had going and quite frankly I was too lazy to try. Lets just put it down to sloppy planning on my part ^^
The Institute gardens were beautiful all year round, no question, but there was something about the autumn that left him in awe. The immaculately tended lawns reflected the somber grey of the sky, trees ablaze in shades of fiery copper. A chill breeze ran through the branches causing the leaves to rustle dryly together. It was like an unearthly music all of its own.
Storm was kneeling underneath on of the trees, diligently pruning a twig- like bush. He watched her in silence for a moment. Her silver hair was tied back in a low ponytail but heavy strands kept falling over her eyes. Every minute or two she would pause, lift her head, and push the offending locks firmly behind her ear. Still, even this simple movement was accomplished with a kind of stately dignity.
Clearing his throat to alert her of his presence, Hank McCoy ambled forward, cup of coffee in either hand. "Charles was starting to get worried about you. I persuaded him to postpone the search and rescue party --- at least until I'd scouted about a bit first --- but I think he'd be happier if you came in out of the cold."
Ororo smiled warmly as her friend approached, setting down her gardening shears. "His concern is touching, though unwarranted. I'm perfectly fine out here."
"Then at least have some coffee." He paused and looked at her pleadingly. "For Charles's sake if not your own."
The mahogany-skinned mutant gave a light laugh. "Very well, if it's for Charles." She accepted the offered drink gratefully, nursing the mug in her cold hands. Despite the thick wool sweater that she wore, the autumn air was rather bracing. She was thankful that the coffee was warm.
"So what are you doing out here? A little late in the year for gardening, don't you think?"
The weather goddess gestured to the leaf-less bush she had been tending too. "I'm cutting back some of the foliage to ensure that it survives the winter," she explained, "It will help it to grow better come the spring."
Hank wasn't much of a gardener. He was more at home in a white lab coat than in a pair of gardening gloves. Unwilling to admit his ignorance, he nodded at her words. "Very prudent."
There was a short silence as Ororo considered him over the rim of her coffee cup. "How is it in there?"
"Uncomfortable."
She sighed, closing her eyes. "I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. I had to get out."
"I know. I figured that it would be something like that."
"It can't go on like this, Hank. Charles must bring this to some kind of resolution."
Hank moved to sit on a nearby stone bench. "He's doing all he can. But what with the young X-Men on his back --- not to mention Rogue and the Wagner's --- I can't imagine that it is easy for him."
Ororo nodded thoughtfully. "How are Kurt's parents today?"
"I only saw them briefly at breakfast." He paused, frowning. "They are very worried about their son, that much is apparent."
A brief quiet fell between them. The breeze ran over the lawn, sending the grass in shifting waves. Thick, cottony clouds drifted lazily overhead, blotting out any weak sunshine that might have existed.
"Do you think he has told them? About where Kurt is?"
Hank didn't say anything for a long moment. His blue eyes focused intently on the coffee cup in his hands, dark eyebrows drawn together. When he did speak, his voice was lowered to a considering murmur. "I don't know, and it's not my place to ask. I assume so, yes, but there is no way that I can be sure."
The silver haired mutant looked up at him solemnly. "I hate to think of Kurt in that terrible place."
"Mystique will not harm her own son, of that I am certain."
"How can you be sure?"
Hank gave a weary half smile. "Mystique is dangerous, no mistake, but has she ever directly tried to hurt Kurt? I think that we should give her the benefit of the doubt. Kurt is a smart boy - given time, he'll find his own way home."
He hoped that he spoke with more confidence than he felt. He was no Sigmund Freud - he didn't have a clue what Mystique was thinking. But Ororo needed comforting, and those were the only words that came into his head at the time.
"You are a good man, Hank."
He flashed her a toothy grin and shrugged. "Yeah, I know."
"Answer me one small question though."
"Hm?"
She arched a snowy eyebrow challengingly. "Did Charles really send you out here to look for me?"
There was a guilty hesitation. "Not as such," he admitted, staring down at his drink. "Does it matter?"
Ororo shook her head, smiling gratefully.
"No. Not at all."
Irene was standing at the phone box, arms folded across her chest and shivering uncontrollably. A chill morning breeze whipped through her short hair. She frowned, glancing quickly across the road at the sound of approaching footsteps. Whoever the unseen walker was, however, they strolled past the blind women without stopping, earning a sigh of relief from Irene. She hated coming out here like this. She felt alone --- exposed --- conspicuous. But there was no other option. She couldn't take calls in the Xavier mansion; the risk would be too great. That was why she was here, waiting in the cold for a phone call from Mystique. She stared miserably into darkness, tapping a gloved finger against her elbow and briefly wondering what Rogue was doing at that moment.
The telephone rang.
Irene moved quickly and picked up the receiver. "Raven," she breathed, not needing to question who the caller might be.
"Hello Irene," came the smooth reply.
"I need to talk to you."
There was a strange noise on the other end of the line - a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "If this is anything to do with our discussion the other day, I do not wish to hear it."
"You can't just ignore this, Raven."
The shape-shifting mutant's voice lowered to an irate growl. "Ignore what? A dream? A feeling? I will not give up everything I have worked so hard for simply because you are having nightmares!"
Irene ran a hand wearily over her forehead. This was an argument that they had had several times over the past few days --- always with the same result. Raven simply refused to listen to her.
"Do you think I would bring them to your attention if I thought that these were baseless concerns?" she hissed, a little more bitterly than she had intended. "The visions are getting stronger ---- clearer ---- you have to change things now while you still have the chance."
"I will change nothing."
Irene clutched the telephone desperately. "Raven-"
"This discussion is over!"
The blind woman grew bold. "Don't talk to me as though I were one of your Brotherhood wards. We're partners. Rogue is every bit as much my daughter as she is yours - we decided that a long time ago."
"We also decided that I would educate her in her mutant powers. That has not changed."
Mystique's voice had grown icy cold. Anyone else would have recognized this as a sign to shut up, but Irene had long since ceased to fear her lover's dark moods. No matter how much Raven might hiss and snap, she knew that she was in the rare and privileged position of safety as far as their relationship was concerned. Irene was probably the only person in the world who Mystique considered an equal, and this was the only reason that she dared to speak as candidly as she did.
"Then educate her. But for God's sake Raven, give it time! I've seen the future. If you continue with your plans then the result can only be destruction for us all!"
Mystique sighed angrily. "This is a song you have sung many times over the past few days," she muttered darkly. "Unless you have anything more concrete to report, I suggest that you return to the Xavier Institute before your presence is missed."
"I've had another vision."
Mystique sounded decidedly unimpressed. "Enlighten me."
Irene hesitated, listening out for any noise to indicate anyone near enough to be listening in on her conversation. A cold autumn wind made the hem of her heavy overcoat flutter around her ankles, her short hair ruffling over her forehead. After a moment, she decided that she was alone.
Slim brown eyebrows drew into a frown as she thought back over the vision that had occurred earlier that morning. Like so many of her predictions, it was difficult to put into words all that she had seen and felt.
"I've never had a vision so intense before. I saw flashes - so quick that I hardly had time to register them. I saw Kurt, Raven. He was with Xavier --- talking --- crying. He looked as though his heart were breaking in two." Irene paused and shook her head mournfully, the memory of that vision painfully clear in her mind. "I'd never seen a child in so much pain."
There was a long silence. The far-seeing mutant waited for some kind of acknowledgement from Mystique, lips pressed together in a grim line.
"Raven?"
The woman on the other end of the line drew a long, shuddering breath. "Go on." She suddenly didn't sound as dismissive as she had a minute previously. The mention of her son had evidently struck a cord in her.
"There was darkness in the next flash. A terrible, terrible darkness. Cold. Bleak rain. Desolation. I don't know what it meant, but the next flash came so quickly that I didn't have time to study it closely. I saw a white room ---- some kind of lab or hospital I think. And that poor girl. Oh, that poor girl." Behind the dark glasses, Irene's eyes suddenly filled with tears. The emotion of the vision was still raw and she was having trouble controlling herself. "She was so pale --- ghostly white --- like a corpse---"
"What are you saying Irene?"
The blind woman felt the first hot tear trickle silently over her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away.
"It was Rogue that I saw. She's going to die."
"Tea, Herr Wagner?"
The man glanced up quickly, startled by the question. "Was? Oh. Oh, no thank you."
Charles nodded and turned to the lady seated next to him, eyebrows raised questioningly. Claudia Wagner merely smiled and shook her head. Charles decided not to press either of them further and set the teapot down on his desk, steepling his fingers together under his chin and considering them thoughtfully.
They were almost unrecognizable as the same two people he had met in Germany over a year ago. They looked older now --- more troubled. Heinrich's hair had turned a pale shade of silver, the dark circled under his eyes indicating the lack of sleep that he had had over the past few weeks. To Charles, he seemed to be a broken man. He couldn't eat, couldn't rest --- the loss of his son had wounded him to the core.
In fact, if it weren't for Claudia, Charles did not think that Heinrich would have found the strength to get through each day. Claudia was a remarkable woman - a fact that he was coming to realize a little more the more time that they spent together. Even with the tremendous strain that she must have been under, she held her jaw firm and refused to give up hope. Despite this, Charles could not help but note the amount of weight that she had lost. She was more fragile than she liked to pretend, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before she lost herself to despair as her husband had.
It almost broke his heart to see them like this. He had known them only briefly while in Germany, but in that time he had quickly recognized them as being extraordinary people. They were loving and warm, with seemingly boundless selflessness. He marveled at the generosity that it must have taken to bring the infant Kurt into their lives, and yet they did not seem to look upon it as any true labor. The fact was that they adored their son - fur and all - and there was nothing that they would not have done for him.
They didn't deserve this.
Drawing himself forcibly from his thoughts, Charles reached down into a draw in his desk and withdrew an envelope. He held it briefly in his hands, the folded paper light and warm against his fingers, before handing it to the couple before him.
"This letter arrived this morning. I think it best that you read it for yourselves."
Heinrich, who had slipped back to staring out of the window, glanced at him suddenly. "Kurt? Is it from Kurt?"
Charles hesitated, then gave a single nod.
Heinrich quickly took the envelope and withdrew the letter inside. Charles himself had already read it and, closing his eyes, he listened as the German man proceeded to hurriedly read the note's content to his wife.
"Dear Professor.
I guess Rogue has told you about where I'm staying? I won't blame you if you are disappointed in me, but please try and understand that this is where I need to be right now. I can't stay with the X-Men anymore. Not now. Not ever. Too much has happened for that.
And that's why I'm writing to tell you that I've left the X-Men indefinitely.
I'm sorry Professor, but I can't trust anything you say anymore. All those times that you talked to us about family and friendship and honesty --- it didn't mean anything, did it? Not when you were keeping the truth from me the whole time. Well I've found my family now - my real family. The Brotherhood. And this is where I'm going to be staying.
I'm not trying to get back at you prof, honestly I'm not. I'm going through something now, and mother is the only one who can help me. This is just something that I have to do.
Please try and explain this to Scott - knowing him, he'll probably figure out some way of blaming himself. And please tell him not to try and talk to me. I think that it'll be for the best if I just avoid all contact with the X-Men from now on. I don't want to hurt Rogue anymore, and maybe, if I stay away, she'll be able to forget about all that's happened.
I heard that my parents are staying up the Institute, right? I don't know what I want you to tell them. I'm so ashamed of myself for what I must be putting them through. Please don't let them see me ---- I don't think that I could bear to see them. Not yet anyway. Just tell them that I love them and I miss them and that I think about them everyday. I don't want them to worry about me anymore, but I can't face coming back.
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything."
Heinrich finished reading the letter. Slowly, seemingly almost dazed, he set it down on the arm of his chair. Thick grey eyebrows drew together in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words were forthcoming. In the end, all he could do was to shake his head in bewilderment.
"I --- I do not understand."
Sitting beside him, Claudia covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes screwed tightly shut against a tide of grief. Her shoulders tensed and then shuddered, a low sob escaping her throat. Tears that had been building up for days streamed down over her cheeks, hot and unashamed.
"Mother ---- he called her mother----"
And Charles was helpless to do anything but watch.
Mystique stood in the bedroom, staring dully at the coverlet crumpled carelessly over the mattress. Such a small detail. For years she had yearned to have her child close to her, the desire so strong that there were times she had thought she would die from the pain. Now she had her Kurt, her beloved son. The unmade bed was apart of him, and, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to change it.
Still, her earlier conversation with Irene had left her unnerved. Although she had spoken almost dismissively of her lover's previous warnings, she in fact took the visions very seriously. This latest prophesies had chilled her to the core. Irene's devastating words echoed relentlessly through her head like a dark mantra ---
---"It was Rogue that I saw. She's going to die."---
Despite herself, she shuddered.
Before this, she had managed to convince herself that Irene's unsettled feeling was down to her fears for Rogue's safety playing on her mind. This latest warning, however, she could not ignore. Her plan was so close to fruition ---- so close to completion ---- she could not afford to lose it all now. Not after she had worked so hard.
Scarlet lips pressed into a grim line, one azure hand running through her hair in a gesture of desperate thought. Everything had been going so well. Kurt had been easily integrated into the Brotherhood and it would have only been a matter of time before Rogue joined him. It had all been coming together exactly as she had predicted.
And now --- this.
What did it mean? Irene's vision was vague to say the least. There were no details --- no clues --- no specific times and dates --- Mystique had next to nothing to go on.
Kurt crying.
That had definitely unsettled her. After all that had happened, Mystique had hoped that Kurt's tears would be over. Even worse was the fact that he had been with Xavier in the vision. What did *that* mean? Was he going to go back to them, to the X-Men, after all her careful work to ensure otherwise? She wasn't certain, but it definitely raised some disturbing questions.
Terrible darkness? Mystique hadn't got any idea what that was about. And then there was the final part of the prophecy ---- the part that really chilled her ----
---"It was Rogue that I saw. She's going to die."---
Mystique snarled silently, hands curling into defiant fists. She couldn't let that happen. She *wouldn't* let that happen. Rogue was her daughter, and, alongside Kurt, she was the most important thing in her life. Mystique had failed in many things in her life, but this was something that she could not afford to lose. If it took her dying breath, she would keep Rogue safe from harm.
And in order to protect her, she was going to have to force her plan into motion swifter than she had anticipated.
She stared bleakly into space, pale eyes unnaturally focused. Resolve burned through her veins like a dark adrenaline. She was ready to do what she had to do.
By the time the sun set that night, Mystique would have her children back.
No matter what the cost.
Xing@fanfiction.net - well spotted! This fic has been going on a long time - since last summer, I think - and when I first began writing it I had only watched about half of season one and read a couple of fics about season two characters, so I gave Kitty a crush on Lance. Of course in the time that I have been writing this fic, things happened between them and then they broke up. In my AU, lets just assume that all that happened too. I probably should have written something about it, but it didn't serve to further the plot that I had going and quite frankly I was too lazy to try. Lets just put it down to sloppy planning on my part ^^
The Institute gardens were beautiful all year round, no question, but there was something about the autumn that left him in awe. The immaculately tended lawns reflected the somber grey of the sky, trees ablaze in shades of fiery copper. A chill breeze ran through the branches causing the leaves to rustle dryly together. It was like an unearthly music all of its own.
Storm was kneeling underneath on of the trees, diligently pruning a twig- like bush. He watched her in silence for a moment. Her silver hair was tied back in a low ponytail but heavy strands kept falling over her eyes. Every minute or two she would pause, lift her head, and push the offending locks firmly behind her ear. Still, even this simple movement was accomplished with a kind of stately dignity.
Clearing his throat to alert her of his presence, Hank McCoy ambled forward, cup of coffee in either hand. "Charles was starting to get worried about you. I persuaded him to postpone the search and rescue party --- at least until I'd scouted about a bit first --- but I think he'd be happier if you came in out of the cold."
Ororo smiled warmly as her friend approached, setting down her gardening shears. "His concern is touching, though unwarranted. I'm perfectly fine out here."
"Then at least have some coffee." He paused and looked at her pleadingly. "For Charles's sake if not your own."
The mahogany-skinned mutant gave a light laugh. "Very well, if it's for Charles." She accepted the offered drink gratefully, nursing the mug in her cold hands. Despite the thick wool sweater that she wore, the autumn air was rather bracing. She was thankful that the coffee was warm.
"So what are you doing out here? A little late in the year for gardening, don't you think?"
The weather goddess gestured to the leaf-less bush she had been tending too. "I'm cutting back some of the foliage to ensure that it survives the winter," she explained, "It will help it to grow better come the spring."
Hank wasn't much of a gardener. He was more at home in a white lab coat than in a pair of gardening gloves. Unwilling to admit his ignorance, he nodded at her words. "Very prudent."
There was a short silence as Ororo considered him over the rim of her coffee cup. "How is it in there?"
"Uncomfortable."
She sighed, closing her eyes. "I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. I had to get out."
"I know. I figured that it would be something like that."
"It can't go on like this, Hank. Charles must bring this to some kind of resolution."
Hank moved to sit on a nearby stone bench. "He's doing all he can. But what with the young X-Men on his back --- not to mention Rogue and the Wagner's --- I can't imagine that it is easy for him."
Ororo nodded thoughtfully. "How are Kurt's parents today?"
"I only saw them briefly at breakfast." He paused, frowning. "They are very worried about their son, that much is apparent."
A brief quiet fell between them. The breeze ran over the lawn, sending the grass in shifting waves. Thick, cottony clouds drifted lazily overhead, blotting out any weak sunshine that might have existed.
"Do you think he has told them? About where Kurt is?"
Hank didn't say anything for a long moment. His blue eyes focused intently on the coffee cup in his hands, dark eyebrows drawn together. When he did speak, his voice was lowered to a considering murmur. "I don't know, and it's not my place to ask. I assume so, yes, but there is no way that I can be sure."
The silver haired mutant looked up at him solemnly. "I hate to think of Kurt in that terrible place."
"Mystique will not harm her own son, of that I am certain."
"How can you be sure?"
Hank gave a weary half smile. "Mystique is dangerous, no mistake, but has she ever directly tried to hurt Kurt? I think that we should give her the benefit of the doubt. Kurt is a smart boy - given time, he'll find his own way home."
He hoped that he spoke with more confidence than he felt. He was no Sigmund Freud - he didn't have a clue what Mystique was thinking. But Ororo needed comforting, and those were the only words that came into his head at the time.
"You are a good man, Hank."
He flashed her a toothy grin and shrugged. "Yeah, I know."
"Answer me one small question though."
"Hm?"
She arched a snowy eyebrow challengingly. "Did Charles really send you out here to look for me?"
There was a guilty hesitation. "Not as such," he admitted, staring down at his drink. "Does it matter?"
Ororo shook her head, smiling gratefully.
"No. Not at all."
Irene was standing at the phone box, arms folded across her chest and shivering uncontrollably. A chill morning breeze whipped through her short hair. She frowned, glancing quickly across the road at the sound of approaching footsteps. Whoever the unseen walker was, however, they strolled past the blind women without stopping, earning a sigh of relief from Irene. She hated coming out here like this. She felt alone --- exposed --- conspicuous. But there was no other option. She couldn't take calls in the Xavier mansion; the risk would be too great. That was why she was here, waiting in the cold for a phone call from Mystique. She stared miserably into darkness, tapping a gloved finger against her elbow and briefly wondering what Rogue was doing at that moment.
The telephone rang.
Irene moved quickly and picked up the receiver. "Raven," she breathed, not needing to question who the caller might be.
"Hello Irene," came the smooth reply.
"I need to talk to you."
There was a strange noise on the other end of the line - a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "If this is anything to do with our discussion the other day, I do not wish to hear it."
"You can't just ignore this, Raven."
The shape-shifting mutant's voice lowered to an irate growl. "Ignore what? A dream? A feeling? I will not give up everything I have worked so hard for simply because you are having nightmares!"
Irene ran a hand wearily over her forehead. This was an argument that they had had several times over the past few days --- always with the same result. Raven simply refused to listen to her.
"Do you think I would bring them to your attention if I thought that these were baseless concerns?" she hissed, a little more bitterly than she had intended. "The visions are getting stronger ---- clearer ---- you have to change things now while you still have the chance."
"I will change nothing."
Irene clutched the telephone desperately. "Raven-"
"This discussion is over!"
The blind woman grew bold. "Don't talk to me as though I were one of your Brotherhood wards. We're partners. Rogue is every bit as much my daughter as she is yours - we decided that a long time ago."
"We also decided that I would educate her in her mutant powers. That has not changed."
Mystique's voice had grown icy cold. Anyone else would have recognized this as a sign to shut up, but Irene had long since ceased to fear her lover's dark moods. No matter how much Raven might hiss and snap, she knew that she was in the rare and privileged position of safety as far as their relationship was concerned. Irene was probably the only person in the world who Mystique considered an equal, and this was the only reason that she dared to speak as candidly as she did.
"Then educate her. But for God's sake Raven, give it time! I've seen the future. If you continue with your plans then the result can only be destruction for us all!"
Mystique sighed angrily. "This is a song you have sung many times over the past few days," she muttered darkly. "Unless you have anything more concrete to report, I suggest that you return to the Xavier Institute before your presence is missed."
"I've had another vision."
Mystique sounded decidedly unimpressed. "Enlighten me."
Irene hesitated, listening out for any noise to indicate anyone near enough to be listening in on her conversation. A cold autumn wind made the hem of her heavy overcoat flutter around her ankles, her short hair ruffling over her forehead. After a moment, she decided that she was alone.
Slim brown eyebrows drew into a frown as she thought back over the vision that had occurred earlier that morning. Like so many of her predictions, it was difficult to put into words all that she had seen and felt.
"I've never had a vision so intense before. I saw flashes - so quick that I hardly had time to register them. I saw Kurt, Raven. He was with Xavier --- talking --- crying. He looked as though his heart were breaking in two." Irene paused and shook her head mournfully, the memory of that vision painfully clear in her mind. "I'd never seen a child in so much pain."
There was a long silence. The far-seeing mutant waited for some kind of acknowledgement from Mystique, lips pressed together in a grim line.
"Raven?"
The woman on the other end of the line drew a long, shuddering breath. "Go on." She suddenly didn't sound as dismissive as she had a minute previously. The mention of her son had evidently struck a cord in her.
"There was darkness in the next flash. A terrible, terrible darkness. Cold. Bleak rain. Desolation. I don't know what it meant, but the next flash came so quickly that I didn't have time to study it closely. I saw a white room ---- some kind of lab or hospital I think. And that poor girl. Oh, that poor girl." Behind the dark glasses, Irene's eyes suddenly filled with tears. The emotion of the vision was still raw and she was having trouble controlling herself. "She was so pale --- ghostly white --- like a corpse---"
"What are you saying Irene?"
The blind woman felt the first hot tear trickle silently over her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away.
"It was Rogue that I saw. She's going to die."
"Tea, Herr Wagner?"
The man glanced up quickly, startled by the question. "Was? Oh. Oh, no thank you."
Charles nodded and turned to the lady seated next to him, eyebrows raised questioningly. Claudia Wagner merely smiled and shook her head. Charles decided not to press either of them further and set the teapot down on his desk, steepling his fingers together under his chin and considering them thoughtfully.
They were almost unrecognizable as the same two people he had met in Germany over a year ago. They looked older now --- more troubled. Heinrich's hair had turned a pale shade of silver, the dark circled under his eyes indicating the lack of sleep that he had had over the past few weeks. To Charles, he seemed to be a broken man. He couldn't eat, couldn't rest --- the loss of his son had wounded him to the core.
In fact, if it weren't for Claudia, Charles did not think that Heinrich would have found the strength to get through each day. Claudia was a remarkable woman - a fact that he was coming to realize a little more the more time that they spent together. Even with the tremendous strain that she must have been under, she held her jaw firm and refused to give up hope. Despite this, Charles could not help but note the amount of weight that she had lost. She was more fragile than she liked to pretend, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before she lost herself to despair as her husband had.
It almost broke his heart to see them like this. He had known them only briefly while in Germany, but in that time he had quickly recognized them as being extraordinary people. They were loving and warm, with seemingly boundless selflessness. He marveled at the generosity that it must have taken to bring the infant Kurt into their lives, and yet they did not seem to look upon it as any true labor. The fact was that they adored their son - fur and all - and there was nothing that they would not have done for him.
They didn't deserve this.
Drawing himself forcibly from his thoughts, Charles reached down into a draw in his desk and withdrew an envelope. He held it briefly in his hands, the folded paper light and warm against his fingers, before handing it to the couple before him.
"This letter arrived this morning. I think it best that you read it for yourselves."
Heinrich, who had slipped back to staring out of the window, glanced at him suddenly. "Kurt? Is it from Kurt?"
Charles hesitated, then gave a single nod.
Heinrich quickly took the envelope and withdrew the letter inside. Charles himself had already read it and, closing his eyes, he listened as the German man proceeded to hurriedly read the note's content to his wife.
"Dear Professor.
I guess Rogue has told you about where I'm staying? I won't blame you if you are disappointed in me, but please try and understand that this is where I need to be right now. I can't stay with the X-Men anymore. Not now. Not ever. Too much has happened for that.
And that's why I'm writing to tell you that I've left the X-Men indefinitely.
I'm sorry Professor, but I can't trust anything you say anymore. All those times that you talked to us about family and friendship and honesty --- it didn't mean anything, did it? Not when you were keeping the truth from me the whole time. Well I've found my family now - my real family. The Brotherhood. And this is where I'm going to be staying.
I'm not trying to get back at you prof, honestly I'm not. I'm going through something now, and mother is the only one who can help me. This is just something that I have to do.
Please try and explain this to Scott - knowing him, he'll probably figure out some way of blaming himself. And please tell him not to try and talk to me. I think that it'll be for the best if I just avoid all contact with the X-Men from now on. I don't want to hurt Rogue anymore, and maybe, if I stay away, she'll be able to forget about all that's happened.
I heard that my parents are staying up the Institute, right? I don't know what I want you to tell them. I'm so ashamed of myself for what I must be putting them through. Please don't let them see me ---- I don't think that I could bear to see them. Not yet anyway. Just tell them that I love them and I miss them and that I think about them everyday. I don't want them to worry about me anymore, but I can't face coming back.
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything."
Heinrich finished reading the letter. Slowly, seemingly almost dazed, he set it down on the arm of his chair. Thick grey eyebrows drew together in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words were forthcoming. In the end, all he could do was to shake his head in bewilderment.
"I --- I do not understand."
Sitting beside him, Claudia covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes screwed tightly shut against a tide of grief. Her shoulders tensed and then shuddered, a low sob escaping her throat. Tears that had been building up for days streamed down over her cheeks, hot and unashamed.
"Mother ---- he called her mother----"
And Charles was helpless to do anything but watch.
Mystique stood in the bedroom, staring dully at the coverlet crumpled carelessly over the mattress. Such a small detail. For years she had yearned to have her child close to her, the desire so strong that there were times she had thought she would die from the pain. Now she had her Kurt, her beloved son. The unmade bed was apart of him, and, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to change it.
Still, her earlier conversation with Irene had left her unnerved. Although she had spoken almost dismissively of her lover's previous warnings, she in fact took the visions very seriously. This latest prophesies had chilled her to the core. Irene's devastating words echoed relentlessly through her head like a dark mantra ---
---"It was Rogue that I saw. She's going to die."---
Despite herself, she shuddered.
Before this, she had managed to convince herself that Irene's unsettled feeling was down to her fears for Rogue's safety playing on her mind. This latest warning, however, she could not ignore. Her plan was so close to fruition ---- so close to completion ---- she could not afford to lose it all now. Not after she had worked so hard.
Scarlet lips pressed into a grim line, one azure hand running through her hair in a gesture of desperate thought. Everything had been going so well. Kurt had been easily integrated into the Brotherhood and it would have only been a matter of time before Rogue joined him. It had all been coming together exactly as she had predicted.
And now --- this.
What did it mean? Irene's vision was vague to say the least. There were no details --- no clues --- no specific times and dates --- Mystique had next to nothing to go on.
Kurt crying.
That had definitely unsettled her. After all that had happened, Mystique had hoped that Kurt's tears would be over. Even worse was the fact that he had been with Xavier in the vision. What did *that* mean? Was he going to go back to them, to the X-Men, after all her careful work to ensure otherwise? She wasn't certain, but it definitely raised some disturbing questions.
Terrible darkness? Mystique hadn't got any idea what that was about. And then there was the final part of the prophecy ---- the part that really chilled her ----
---"It was Rogue that I saw. She's going to die."---
Mystique snarled silently, hands curling into defiant fists. She couldn't let that happen. She *wouldn't* let that happen. Rogue was her daughter, and, alongside Kurt, she was the most important thing in her life. Mystique had failed in many things in her life, but this was something that she could not afford to lose. If it took her dying breath, she would keep Rogue safe from harm.
And in order to protect her, she was going to have to force her plan into motion swifter than she had anticipated.
She stared bleakly into space, pale eyes unnaturally focused. Resolve burned through her veins like a dark adrenaline. She was ready to do what she had to do.
By the time the sun set that night, Mystique would have her children back.
No matter what the cost.