Thank you to those of you keeping up with this slow burn of a story. Last week, I was sorely tempted to publish two chapters. I might this week.
Again, like always, I play with time and shifts in point of view. Hopefully, it will become clear.
Also, another shout-out to Hoodoo, my beta; reading a story and giving me feedback makes a world of difference. Also, bouncing ideas off another writer is extremely helpful.
I own nothing.
"Let go! You must let go! You'll die!" Charles was screaming at the top of his lungs. His crisp English accent coarse and pleading with whomever or whatever was in the murky water trying to prevent Shaw's submarine from escaping.
Charles ran to the other side of the ship as the sub sped underneath.
"Let go!" Charles screamed again as he ripped off his coat and dove straight into the water, ignoring Moira's screams. He landed behind a man with his arms out in front of him, a look of angry concentration on his face. He was rapidly running out of air, but he did not seem to care. Charles immediately grabbed onto his back trying to physically rip him away, but the unknown man's considerable strength was not deterred. Charles placed two fingers to the side of his head and in his best commanding voice, ordered him to let go.
The other man vaguely heard Charles' voice in his head.
You must go let! Erik, let go! You'll die! You're not alone. You're not alone! I know what it means to you, but you'll die.Erik, startled let go of the submarine fully and let the other man drag him up to the surface of the water.
They popped up in the shadows of the boat staring at each other, breathing heavily. Neither man said anything. The light of the boat finally found them and in the light they finally saw each other clearly.
Erik, who still did not know the other man's name, despite him knowing Erik's name, was struck by the intense blue eyes and his strong determination. The man's words finally sunk in. He was not alone. This man was like him.
And something inside Erik eased and his soul lightened.
They remained like this floating in the water, staring at each other until they were hoisted into a smaller boat.
Moira MacTaggert was not a foolish woman – despite what her superiors thought. She knew she was being followed, carefully watched…stalked. But she did not know exactly who was watching her. Nor could she necessarily voice her concerns to others. Without concrete evidence, no one would believe her. So, Moira went on with her life, hoping to draw the person out of hiding.
But deep down, Moira MacTaggert knew who was stalking her; even if she did not want to acknowledge it.
"Damn you, Charles Xavier," she bit out, not the first time since she had found herself in her apartment with her gray jumpsuit neatly folded beside her and a fading but still mean looking thin bruise around her neck. She did not know how much time exactly had passed between she last saw Charles and now but she had clearly underestimated Charles Xavier's power. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a string of very colorful curses until her voice gave out.
Moira sat in her car and passed a hand over her tired and aching eyes willing the oncoming headache to go away. Charles Xavier was not the only man she cursed. She also cursed her superiors at the CIA but that was an everyday occurrence since joining. She also cursed Erik Lehnsherr, that maddening, psychotic German that seemed intent to break everything and everyone around him.
"He needs a good hard fuck…or some serious medication," she muttered. "Fuck you, Charles Xavier," she cursed again. "Fuck you too, Erik Lehnsherr." Moira was clearly itching for a fight. She sorely wished that she could just talk to Charles. Ask him why he didn't trust her, why he had for all intents and purposes, banished her from his life. It was so rare for a man to take her as seriously as Charles Xavier had and while she did not have a mutant ability, she did consider herself intelligent enough to carry on a conversation with the Oxford graduate.
If pressed, she was not going to lie. Moira had fallen in love with Charles. She did not know when but had fallen irrevocably in love the very deceptively powerful man. She did not understand it, Charles Xavier was the type of man her mother always wanted her to find, but also embodied the type of man her father always warned her about. He was deceptive and really if she thought about it, Charles Xavier was not exactly the nicest of people. Oh, to be sure he could charm the pants and skirts off anyone he chose to (and he probably did,Moira thought drily) but for some reason, Charles held back on his incredible gift.
She stepped out of her car and approached her walk-up. After finding the spoon, the other night, she took extra precautions. But how do you go to battle with someone who could manipulate metal so easily and clearly had no value on human life, particularly her own? Moira knew that Lehnsherr did not like her (hate was too soft a word for what he probably truly felt about her) and could easily wipe the floor with her lifeless body.
She had requested special non-metallic bullets for her gun but only received strange looks, whispers and was soundly rejected. Moira was growing a little desperate. She thought about running away, but there was only so much running she could do. If the CIA file was correct, Lehnsherr was responsible for almost two dozen murders in connection with Nazis that had escape Germany.
Moira had only her wits to do battle with Lehnsherr and she knew she was going to lose.
The moment, however, she opened her front door; Moira knew that she was not alone. She took a deep breath and, Moira, against her better discretion, stepped into her apartment and locked the door behind her. If she was going to die, she was going to make damn sure that Lehnsherr died with her.
After meeting Charles Xavier, that night in the Oxford pub, Moira thought long and hard about the charming and enigmatic man. She was quite sure of two things: one was that Charles was quite the ladies man – just his startling blue eyes assured him of it (and not to mention the amount of charm and sexual appeal the man had) and two was that he was keeping something from her. Moira could not quite place what exactly he was keeping from her. But when he came out of his reverie, he quietly declared that she already knew the answer to her own question.
But how exactly could he have known? The answer to Moira's question eluded her and therefore frustrated her greatly. She was quite sure that it had nothing to do with Charles' many charms and his sincerity to take her seriously and at her word without even knowing her for five minutes. She sighed again and closed her eyes. What was Charles Xavier keeping from her? Her brow frowned in thought but nevertheless she fell asleep that night with a slight smile on her face.
Her initial reaction to Erik Lehnsherr was not so positive.
Moira silently observed her darkened living room letting her eyes adjust, when her eyes fell on the tall German sitting in one of her chairs.
"Hello, Erik," she said quietly and flicked on the lights.
"Moira," he said, just as softly and menacingly. His eyes were dark and his face unreadable. Lehnsherr was dressed in his usual dark pants, black turtleneck and black leather jacket.
"Come here to kill me?" she said turning away from him, shrugging off her coat and setting her purse down. Erik did not answer her. Moira turned to look at him and found that he had stood up and was standing directly behind her, inches away. Her breathe caught in her throat and she flushed angrily, taking a step back. "You never did answer my question," she whispered, her voice turning cold, eyes narrowing. Her hands were clenched at her sides. Moira's determination to keep her voice neutral was rapidly failing. She could feel her insides beginning to boil and her head was turning murky with the thoughts of how she wanted to hurt the man whom she loved (Or thought I loved).
"You are the one who hurt him," Erik answered just as softly. His eyes seemed to turn a darker shade of green, his face remaining cold and closed. Moira had read his file and knew what the man could do without the use of his powers. He was close enough to her to throttle her. But yet…he remained closed off and still dangerously close to her. Erik was starting to feel the effects of being this close to Moira; Moira who held some sort of space within Charles' heart, his face hardened and his breath quickened.
"You are the one who left him," she answered, feeling her back stiffen. He took a step forward as she took a step back. They continued this short dangerous dance until Moira's back hit her bookshelf.
"Afraid?" Erik asked in the same dangerous tone. He leaned forward, inches away from her face.
Moira's eyes narrowed further and she leaned forward, tired of being physically intimidated. "You know that Charles is paralyzed, don't you?" She said using the only weapon she had left.
Erik's own eyes widened in shock and horror at her words, his face turning red with rage. He took a step back as if Moira had struck him. "You're lying," he spat, his fists were clenched. The metal in the room began to vibrate and turned to Moira.
"Am I?" She challenged. "You don't know; you left him there." This is a dangerous game you're playing, Moira.
"You lie!" Erik roared as the metal started visibly rattling. Outside, the lamp posts began to sway.
"Prove me wrong then," she said. Moira was taking a gamble, trying to buy herself some time. The devious part of her personality took over. If Lehnsherr could find Charles Xavier, Moira was going to find him as well through him. "Go find him. Tell me what you see. If I'm wrong, I won't stop you from killing me."
He waited for her to continue. "And if you're right," he bit out.
"Then I'll hunt you down and kill you myself," Moira returned and smiled wolfishly.
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