Xavier's School for Gifted Children
"Magneto? Are you certain she's with the Brotherhood?"
"Quite certain, Hank. After all, it was Raven herself who invented the ridiculous phrase herself. And we don't have to remind ourselves which side she chose." Charles grimaced as the fine scotch he'd downed burned his throat. With the bottle between them on his desk, both men had themselves comfortable by the fireplace in Charles' office, periodically downing a glass each. Hank didn't bother to mention that the professor had drunk far more tonight than he usually did. It was probably for a good reason.
"True. But if Katarina were with the Brotherhood, why did you let her stay here? Couldn't she be a spy for Magneto?" Hank pointed out. Charles didn't answer right away, his lips pursed as he stared into the crackling fire with distant eyes.
"I don't believe so." The older man finally replied, his voice raspy from the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, and turned to look at his colleague. Both of them looked miserable, Charles noted faintly, and set down his glass. After a moment of silence, he turned his chair around and smoothly made his way over to his desk, where he produced a thick file from apparently out of thin air.
"Now, when I say I don't believe Katarina is a spy, I truly mean that. I am confident that her position is one of great misfortune. However, that is not to say that she may not have been with the Brotherhood." He supplied, opening the file and laid three picture on the desk.
The first person in the file was almost unrecognizable. It appeared to be dead, though it was hard to tell in black and white. Then, Hank recognized the slicked back hair, the scar that ran through his left eye, and the darker skin tone.
"Azazel…he's…he's dead?" Hank found himself at loss for words.
"Indeed," Charles remarked with a pointed look, and then replaced that picture with another. This was much easier to recognize. With the cobalt blue skin, yellow eyes and crimson red hair slicked back away from her face, the person in the photograph was most definitely Raven. For a moment, Hank found himself suddenly overcome by his young love for the mutant girl in the picture, the first girl who had ever loved him unconditionally. Even with his 'condition'.
Finally, he put the photo down, willing himself to push aside his feelings. "Charles, if you don't mind me asking, what does this have to do with Katarina?" His answer was nothing more than a simple rearrangement of the photos, including the third one, a picture they had taken of the young girl who has currently sleeping in the next room.
"I had assumed it was a coincidence – another genetic flux. I was wrong. I took blood samples from Katarina, and compared them to samples from Raven I'd taken years ago. They match, Hank. You know what that means."
"Match? Then that means…oh, star and garters. Charles, surely not…it can't be." Hank breathed. It was far too personal to both of them to be real in any sense.
"I'm afraid so. Katarina is undoubtebly Raven's daughter. And if I'm right, Azazel is her father."
Nothing was ever going to be the same again.