A/N: There is a last name in this chapter which sounds...bad. It is a real last name, and all I can say is, I feel sorry for anyone who has to go through life with it.
Magneto woke, and smiled to himself. Brilliant sunlight poured in the windows of the guestroom, making the bedclothes blindingly white. At his back, he could feel Grace, warm, solid and not a dream. I don't usually enjoy carrying out my plans as much as this.
He rolled over to look at her face. Lovemaking and sleep had smoothed out the strain and washed away the worried look, reducing the purple shadows under her eyes to a mere smudge of lavender. Rosy color bloomed in her cheeks, and as he watched, she drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes.
"Good morning." she said, drowsily.
"A very good morning." he replied. "I have a question to ask you. Why does such a beautiful woman bother with makeup? You don't need it."
She smiled. "Flatterer. That's good…My eyelashes disappear. "
She did have sandy, pale eyelashes. "Eyelashes. What are eyelashes compared to the rest?"
"You're laying it on thick for this hour of the morning…Let's see what you think in a few minutes, when I get up. I'll turn greenish-white and spend the next ten minutes sitting on the edge of the tub with my forehead against the wall, waiting for the nausea to pass."
"Don't forget, you have those crackers Jean sent."
"So I do…" She leaned over and started munching them. "Can I trouble you for a glass of water? These are awfully dry."
He got her one, and went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returned, she was looking around the room with a puzzled expression on her face. "Do you know where my nightgown went?"
"It's probably caught up in the bed linens. How are the crackers working?"
"They're helping. Ah, you were right. Here it is." She slipped it over her head and put on a robe. "I'm going to go shower and dress." She kissed him on the cheek, and went.
About twenty minutes later, he knocked on her door. "Grace?"
"Come in." She wearing a beige satin bra and a pair of slacks, and she was looking at her waist in the mirror. "Two days ago these fit perfectly. Yesterday, they were snug, and today they're a little tight. It's isn't fat, it's the baby." She sounded happy.
"You'll be the only one who can tell, I assure you."
"I'm not insecure, I'm thrilled about this. I waited twenty years for this to happen. He needs room to move—even if he's only the size of a bean right now, according to the book I read."
"Are you hoping for a boy, then?" he asked.
"My little friend the lamb told me it's a boy—and a mutant." She shed the slacks and reached for a pair of faded, threadbare khakis.
The smile which broadened his mouth and stretched his face until it ached was completely involuntary. A mutant! It is, it is a mutant! He is a mutant…
She caught him smiling, and asked, "Is that because it's a boy, or because it's a mutant?"
"Because it's a mutant, of course! What do you take me for? One of the many things the mutant gene does is to eliminate sexism. There is no inequality of strength between the sexes—between individuals, perhaps, but many mutant women are as powerful as—or more powerful—than men."
"I never thought of that." She pulled a short sleeved turtleneck over her head, white flecked with beige.
"Is that one of yours?" he asked. It looked professional—there was nothing awkward or lumpy about it. At the same time, his sense for metal told him 'Adamantium. About a mile away and getting closer.' Ah. Logan has come home. It did not worry him.
"Uh-huh—an old one." She picked up a brush and sleeked her shining hair. "I'm dressed for getting dirty today."
"Well, be careful not to over do it. Let them do all the straining and heavy lifting."
"I will." She smiled at him. "I'm starving—what about you?"
"I have a good appetite myself this morning." They went downstairs to the dining hall, where an array of breakfast foods was laid out buffet style.
Grace looked over the various foodstuffs, the chafing dishes keeping scrambled eggs and bacon warm, the loaves of bread waiting by the toaster, the line of cereal boxes and pitchers of milk and juice. "You don't suppose they have chocolate pudding, do they?"
"For breakfast?" He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Food cravings." she explained.
"Of course." As it turned out, they didn't, but she was willing to settle for chocolate milk instead. As they filled their plates, Grace and Erik greeted various students and staff, making their way along the tables until they reached the end.
"Where would you like to sit?" he asked her.
"Somewhere away from the cereal boxes."
"You have an aversion to things which go 'snap, crackle, and pop'?"
"Child-targeted cereals often have animal mascots. I'd like to eat breakfast in peace. If they need to get a message to me, I'm sure they can come up with a way."
"I see. Over by the windows?"
"All right." They sat, and began on their meal.
"In the interest of getting to know one another better," Erik opened the conversation, "is Engstrom your maiden name or your married name? I've no idea."
"It's my maiden name." She flashed him that impish grin. "I never took Jack—my ex's—name. Not so much out of feminism, as because he had a horrible name. Too horrible."
"What on earth could it have been?"
"Stenchcum."
"…Would you care to spell that?"
"S-t-i-n-c-h-c-u-m. You understand why I felt couldn't take it."
"Completely." A shadow fell across their table. "I never actually asked you if I could tell Pietro and Wanda about you. May I?"
"Will they keep the secret?" She drank milk and wiped away the mustache.
"When it comes to anything concerning me, they never tell anyone anything whatsoever. I'm going for another cup of coffee—can I get you anything?"
"Some more of the fresh pineapple would be lovely. And yes. You can tell them."
He was returning to the table when the doors at the end of the hall burst open, and a furious Logan strode in. "All right, Mags. I've had about enough of you."
"Logan," Charles said, warningly. "You don't know the whole story."
"I know I was coughing up dirty water for hours. I know I nearly flamin' drowned, is all." He crossed the intervening space with angry strides.
"Logan—." Jean got up and hurried to head him off. "Things are different now—."
"They're going to be real different in a minute here—."
Erik set his coffee and the bowl of pineapple down on the table. "That is Logan." He explained to Grace. "If his wits were as sharp as his claws, he would be a truly formidable adversary. As it is—." He locked up all of Logan's joints at the same time. "he doesn't learn very fast. I'm afraid I shall have to forgo that second cup of coffee, my dear. I'm not about to let him go until I'm on my way, as he's too agitated to be reasonable, and leaving him as he is would only distress people and strain the cooperative spirit."
"Then I'll see you tonight." she said, and rose to her feet to kiss him goodbye.
A/N: Next chapter, Erik goes back to his headquarters, where Pyro will greet him with the words, "It's not my fault.', and Erik will call both his children and break the news. Expect explosions, if only the emotional kind.
