I'm baaaaaaack! And I love you guys, thank you so much for wishing me good luck and supporting me!

I also was in such a rush a week and a half ago that I didn't realize that I had accidentally said the last chapter was chapter ten. Whoops. This is Ten, that was Nine. Sorry!

Okay, so this is sort of a filler chapter and is starting a couple of more plot lines for later. I know it seems weird, I know it seems like there are all these loose ends, but I have one more character to introduce after the two in this chapter and then we are going to move. This story arc won't be year by year by year anymore. I might do that again, but the way I saw it, it made no sense to do that while Anya was growing up because there wasn't a lot going on. Yes they were changing and growing as people, but they still had relative peace. Peace is over now and trouble is resuming now that Erik is back - and not just because of him.

This is Anya again, then Erik/Charles (because who doesn't love that?!), then Hank because... Hey... remember two years ago and black blood? Little bit of an explanation AND an insight into what's happening later. So yeah plot moves and thickens!

Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Ten: Honesty

There's something about running.

Whipping through the trees, my hair streaming in a ponytail behind me, the dark pressing in on my skin until it seems to glow in the moonlight and the few stars visible between the thick canopy above me… I've never felt more free than when I'm running. Jesse opted out of coming with me - apparently running three miles to get away from Erik and a sharpened garden trowel was too much for him - but I needed more. Need more. I trip over roots I can't make out in the dark every so often, but not enough to even really slow me down. Not enough to stop me. My sneakers are swallowed up in the dark, a reminder that there is no way to really know where I'm going. It's an eerie but heady feeling, enhanced by the puffs of mist from my breath and the tingles that come with being only two or so days away from Halloween. The little rush of danger coupled with the burning of my lungs and the thumping of my heart…

I live for this.

I need to stop though. My legs are burning, and my lungs have reached the point where they feel shredded even with the deep breathing I've mastered. There's a stitch in my side and the tips of my fingers are numb with cold. Still, even as my body has reached its limit, I want to keep going. So I make the last ten minutes count, giving my all and bounding back to the house with all the strength in the wiry legs I inherited from Erik.

Dad's not in the kitchen when I get there so I leap up the stairs two at a time, trying to be quiet. He will be soon. He always is. I know he knows what I'm doing, but he doesn't stop me. This is our stalemate; I don't mention the impending war, and he turns a blind eye to how I'm preparing for it.

I turn the water in my shower on to full blast, blazing hot, and strip quickly. I have a feeling that that's why Erik's here; I can't be sure, but it seems a little coincidental that at the same point where I'd be considered old enough to seriously think of my future, the possible outcome of it saunters into my house and is turned around from his goals. Not yet, of course, but I have yet to see anyone hold out against Dad's logic. I'm proud that he gave me that lawyer-ly ability to argue my way out of anything or into anyone's beliefs.

But man, convincing him to accept Erik… this is going to be one hell of a challenge.

I hiss at the temperature of the water before gritting my teeth and scrubbing the pale skin free of sweat. Erik's easy enough: convince him of his guilt, spin him around a little, and shove him at Dad. That's all it really takes with him. For a guy that's supposed to be as hard as metal and cold as steel, he's not so good about not hiding his heart. The second he walked through the kitchen door, all he had eyes for was Dad. But he was angry too; it was there in that greedy green gaze that was raking over my father like he wanted to take him… in a, you know, sense of oh-my-god that's my dad you're stripping with your eyes! I shake my head, my now loose curls whacking the wall repeatedly with wet slaps. Erik I don't even have to change the mind of when it comes to humans, really. All I have to do is get him to let go of his anger, or at the very least, redirect it from Dad. His affection for the man will win out after that.

No, Dad's going to be the problem. Because he's not mad exactly, but he's hurt. He's hurt very much. He feels deserted and abandoned and lonely, and Erik didn't really come back willingly - he came back because some idiots broke him out of the Pentagon and brought him here. The way my father looks at the man with my eyes… It's like he's waiting for him to walk right out the door with his suitcase trailing behind. Dad was forced to raise me and my brothers on his own, with no help, and the sense that his significant other was missing because he couldn't give a rat's ass about us over his cause. I wince.

It stings, yeah. I wish I could have known Erik, if only so I can get rid of my own anger at being abandoned, my own disgust with his actions. Right now feeling this core of molten rage is very distracting. I know this man is what Dad wants, for whatever reason, so I'm going to give Erik to him. But sometimes, when I'm playing my part… I'm not sure if I'm really playing. And it's scary to not be in control.

I mentally shake myself and turn off the water, done making myself presentable. Well, I look like a skinny lobster now, but that's better than sweaty and about to vomit for running for close to three hours. It'll have to do for now.

Changing quickly into a pair of old yoga pants and a baggy black t-shirt, I bounce downstairs like I still have any energy at all rather than wanting to collapse from weak muscles. Dad's in the kitchen, rolled up to the table and staring forlornly at the stove. My heart squeezes at the frustration on his face but I force a smile. "Hi Daddy," I greet him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "What are you doing awake?" I smirk at the charade, but go through it gleefully anyway.

"Worrying about my daughter of course. Where were you?" He's smirking too. I laugh and get the cocoa ready.

"Oh you know." Because he does. We drop it after that - it's no fun to keep it going when the whole point is 'where were you' and 'you know that already.' We've tried to keep bantering for longer than that before and it falls flat quickly. I get the kettle boiling and dump mix into a couple of mugs. "So… how's living with Erik again?" I ask quietly. I turn around and see Dad is watching his hands very intently.

"Much as before, I believe. We have very different views on the world darling."

"Liar," I say softly. "I can kick him out…" I offer but we both know he won't take me up on it. Much as he's hurting right now, much as he must be angry… He is so grateful Erik's back. The kettle shrieks, making me jump and Charles laugh. Blushing, I turn it off and pour the water into the mugs. Stirring them real quick, I add cinnamon and milk.

"Thank you, darling, but I don't believe that's necessary." He's quiet for so long if it hadn't been for the fact that I can always hear his chair when he leaves, I might have thought I was alone. I watch the swirls of brown and red and white in my mug and think hard. Both of my fathers, real and biological, need to have their heads pulled out of their asses and actually talk to each other. Erik seems willing now that I've redirected him a bit. Also, he was kind of shocked to see Dad in a wheel chair. Why is that… Nevermind, not important. Suss that out later. Anyway, Dad is the stubborn one. He's the one who's got the barriers ten feet thick when it comes to Erik. But he'd also know if I tried to manipulate him like I do Erik.

So… I decide not to. Dad likes honesty, is thrown off guard by it. I go honest.

"Dad, I have a question. You said… You said you'd answer anything about Erik and this is… well this is kind of related." My cheeks heat because oh boy this is going to be awkward, but I soldier on anyway. Dad raises a dark eyebrow but otherwise is coolly collected.

"If I can I will. Though some of these you will need to ask him… If you can refrain from pummeling him," he adds wryly, glancing at the bruised hand wrapped around the mug. I blush again. Damn it I forgot to rebandage that…

"How do you know when you're in love?" I ask plainly. Dad blinks, his cerulean eyes wide and uncertain. Score. Never thrown him so off guard before...

"I'm sorry?"

"How do you know when you're in love?" I repeat patiently. Dad's mouth works a little as if he's trying to push words out but they won't come. I start talking, partly because I'm trying to goad him, and partly because ever since yesterday and the date with Jesse… I don't know. I guess I just need someone to talk to. "It's like… I like him. I like him a lot. And I know I'm attracted to him." A blush stains my cheeks and I wrap my hands almost painfully around my mug, but that's the truth. "I just… I feel wary, all the time. Like I don't trust him, which is stupid because he's supposed to be my best friend, you know?" I shrug. "Is that love? Liking but afraid all the time? Or is it something else?"

Dad doesn't look confused anymore. He's understanding now, a little hesitant, and compassionate. Also he kind of looks like he wants to cry. I almost wish I could take it back. But then he leans over the table and cups my face in one of his pal hands.

"No, darling. That's not love," he says gently. "Love is… love is hard to describe, just because there are so many kinds. There's the love I have for you, and for your brothers. Fatherly, I suppose. All-consuming is probably another word for it." He quirks a brow and smiles. "And rather irritating when I'm trying to ground you for blowing up the toaster or getting into a fight again." I smile cheekily and he gives a very put-upon sigh. The he sobers. "It's different for siblings too, friends…" He looks lost in memories for a moment. Did Dad have siblings? I know he must have had friends before his whole world became his children, but I don't even know if he had brothers and sisters. I place my hand over his and lean into the familiar contact, waiting until he comes back from wherever he is. Sometimes I'm bothered by how little Dad actually tells me about his life, sometimes I'm okay with it. I choose to be okay with it for now. "Being in love though… That's a completely different love, my darling. Hot and warm, for one. That sounds odd, but it's like your whole being is on fire with a need for something, yet you feel warm inside, safe." I nod because that actually makes a weird sort of sense, even though I've never felt it myself. Dad relaxes a little bit. "Calm without truly being calm, secure, content… It's like finding home. But in another person. All the emotions that come with being in that one place where you can be you, without fear. And in its own way those feelings are terrifying, because the one person who sees you can also be the one to hurt you so completely." He exhales shakily. "Yet you trust them not to, because you see them too." There's a grim smile and he sounds like he's quoting something. "It's the perfect balance between rage… and serenity."

I feel weirdly… heavy, after he finishes. Like this love thing might not be all it's cracked up to be in stories and romances, and that wanting it is pretty damn scary. For a second I want to stop pushing my dad and Erik together, because whatever this crap is it doesn't seem pleasant at all. But I look at Dad's face, so vulnerable and open and lost, that I know I need to keep pushing. Because rage and serenity has got to be better than feeling empty and alone.

"I don't love Jesse," I say softly. It's true, too. Whatever this is, it isn't that. It's kind of tickly, and cute, but it's not real. It'll fade. Real love doesn't sound like it does that.

"No, I don't believe you do," Dad agrees quietly. "I don't believe you two would be good for each other anyway. Jesse is too soft and controlling. You need someone who is strong, can hold you when you need it, but will let you be who you want to be. Jesse is too set on what path he thinks you should take to allow that." That's certainly true, and for some reason I feel tears well up when Dad admits what I've been secretly thinking. "What's brought this on, darling? You said it had something to do with Erik…" he prompts. I throw caution to the wind and jump in.

"You love him." Dad inhales sharply and lets go of my face to grab his now cold cocoa. "You do, don't you? That's why it hurt so much. He was home and he left you."

"Among other things," he admits softly. Dad exhales shakily. "Anya it's not as simple as that."

"Isn't it?" I challenge him. "If he hadn't left you to raise four kids on your own, where would the two of you be right now, hm? If he hadn't put his 'cause,'" I put quotes around the word with a scowl, "above us would you two be friends… or lovers right now?"

'Neither," he says, voice hard. "We would probably both be in jail and you'd be in foster care or the hospital when they try to find out if we inflicted lasting damage on your mind."

Yeah, okay, thanks for that reminder Dad, I think sharply. He flinches and I soften my mental voice. You know none of us would tell. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks - we love you guys anyway.

"Anya the rest of the world has the power to take you away from me."

"I don't care what they think," I say aloud. "I don't care what the law thinks, there's nothing wrong with you for liking and loving men. It doesn't make you any less of a man or less of a parent."

I have completely lost control of this conversation. Instead of talking about Erik, we're talking about the acceptance of homosexuality in society. Damn it. Should've gone with manipulate…

Ah well. At least he admitted he's a dude that likes other dudes. That's something at least.

Unfortunately, Dad's eyes are narrowing, and I know I'm in trouble. "Is that what yesterday was about? Was that part of a scheme to get the two of us together?" he demands. Busted races across my mind faster than I can stop it. "Anya Lehnsherr, this a tense enough situation as is. Please do not go making it worse."

"I'm not sure how making him less of a homicidal maniac could be making a situation worse," I mutter. Dad sighs slowly.

"Don't do that," he begs. "Please. He is not a villain in this, he is just… unguided."

"What does that mean?" I ask. But Dad doesn't reply, pulling back, shutting down, and coolly collected once more.

"It's late Anya. You should get to bed." And just like that I'm dismissed.

XXX-XXX

"Okay, remind me again why you are having me look through the New York Public Library's actually pretty impressive collection of physics and chemistry books? I swear, the diffusion of intelligence into my brain is going to make it explode," Andrea "Annie" Pryde complains at the top of her not inconsiderable lungs. A woman working at one of the nearby tables hisses a "Shhhh!" at her. Annie scowls, flips her brunette locks over her shoulder, and makes a very rude gesture in Italien.

"Diffusion only occurs until the solute concentration is equal on both sides of the membrane," I say absently, flicking through the book on physics resting in my lap. Nope, nada, no… "Diffusion would stop before your brain had the chance to explode - more likely given the integrity of the paper versus the solvent concentration of grey matter your brain would leak out your head."

"Another example of why learning is bad," she shoots back with a smile. "You become a walking dictionary." I snort and throw the book onto the ever-growing pile. "I should've gone and gotten high with Elliot."

"Considering he's smoking near the more expensive collections of books and is going to get caught, it's a good thing you didn't," I remind her. Annie makes a face, her brown eyes laughing, before sighing and getting back to work.

"So why are we looking up metals again?"

"I told you, I'm doing a scientific study on the nature of diamagnetic versus paramagnetic metals in relation to an electromagnetic field while still keeping their integrity under extreme physical trauma," I tell her. She wrinkles her nose.

"English, superbrain."

"That was English."

"No, that was let's-torture-the-stupid-girl. English is where you explain what the fuck para-whatsitoya is," she says, smacking my head and going back to her book on chemical properties. The woman who shushed her huffs and gets up, glowering at the language no doubt. Annie just smiles and waves. "Okay, so you don't want to tell me exactly what it is you're doing - so long as you don't blow up a toilet again -"

"I didn't realize the compound would react so violently with water!"

" - I'm good. Wanna tell me why?" Annie's eyes are intent, her Detective face on and perfectly focused. I shiver a little and look down. She's the only person I've met that can read people almost as well as my dad. And she's human. "Because this means a lot, to you whatever it is."

I hesitate. It's Annie, and I want to tell her, and I trust her. I know I can tell her part of it and it won't be a big deal, but the other… Yeah that wouldn't be so good. I bite my lip and she frowns. "C'mon, Ahn. What's up? I've never seen you so desperate before," she says softly. I exhale. I glance around, making sure no one can hear, then beckon her forward for good measure.

"I'm trying to get my dad a boyfriend." Surprise flickers across her face briefly, then realization.

"Oh. So that's why…"

"Yep."

"And finding metals with these properties helps with that… how?" she asks. I shrug. "Not something you can tell me?" I nod. "Okay then. Where do you need me to look now?"

I smile. This is why Annie is such a great friend. She knows what I can say and what I just… can't.

It takes two hours and frantic hair pulling before Annie comes up with an idea. Actually she gives up and gives me an idea. "This is so stupid" she huffs. "All of these metals and they all are magnetic or toxic!"

"Yeah I know," I sigh. "Half of these don't have magnetic properties but would probably kill me if I handled them."

"Be so much easier if you could just mix them for what you want…" she mutters angrily. "But nooo has to be this or that -" The lightbulb dings and I jump up in excitement.

"ANNIE YOU ARE A GENIUS!" I shriek. Several people glare. "Sorry!"

"What? What did I… Ahn you can't -! Jesus put those down before you -! ELLIOT!" Elliot runs over, red eyed and so doped he looks ready for a nap, only to be bowled over when I run past with a rushed sorry, an insane amount of books on metallic properties in my arms and bumping my face. My friends chase after me with concern and laughter and much yelling. By the time they catch up to me I have half of the books checked out and security is kindly asking them to leave for being so disruptive. We do, laughing the whole while.

"Jesus Christ Genius, I did NOT sign up for this," Elliot groans under the weight of some of the books, I snort and switch my much larger stack around.

"You are such a whiner! That is not that much!" I tell him. He glares and raises a foot, wobbling precariously, to kick my arm. It's a light tap and I barely feel it.

"That's because you have fucking body-builder arms. Seriously, do you live in a boot camp? You've got arms as big and strong as your brain!" I go quiet, because kind of yeah. I've been able to hide a lot of what I do to train for the war I know is coming from my Dad. If he knew the full extent…

I clear my throat and look at Annie, who is watching us shrewdly. But she just smiles when I look at her and punches Elliot's arm. "Stop being such a drama queen, Elliot. It's why you can't get a date."

"No no no, girls like drama queens!" he drawls, then hesitates. "Well, normal girls." We both hit him and he laugh, blue eyes bright and mischievous though still bloodshot. "Is it the lack of arms? The good fashion sense?" Gotta hand it to the kid, he has a point there. Having money helps with that. "Or is it my dazzling personality that makes girls not want to date me?"

"I'm pretty sure it's the smell of pot, Elle," Annie deadpans. I laugh and Elliot pretends to scowl.

"Mark my words, Andrea Pryde, I will convince you that I am dating material." Poor guy doesn't realize that crush he has on Annie is really not going anywhere.

"In your dreams Elliot," she responds, pecking him on the cheek and then smacking his head. He whines and she laughs, glowing with happiness.

I look at her, with her dark hair and dark eyes and pretty smile, and I ache. Dad, for all his powers and abilities and understanding of the human mind, is so blind. He talks about understanding, and acceptance, and forgiveness, but he doesn't seem to realize that that extends to more than just mutants. There are so many groups that need a voice too.

That are ready to fight for what they want, because hiding is so much worse. And he has this chance, but he's willing to let it slide by, even though these voiceless people are ready to rise up and could make a change. I shake my head and finger my stack of books. He might be willing, but I sure as hell am not ready to see my father spend the rest of his life alone and grieving for a relationship he could have.

If this plan works, then neither of us will have to endure that.

Pryde, huh? Hmmm... Annie's my favorite next to... well... everyone, and I hope you guys love her as much as I do!

Like? Don't like? Let me know!