September 3, 1974
"This place is awesome," Warren said.
Jean smiled at Warren as she readjusted the cuffs to her blouse to make sure that they were exactly the same length. Scott had told her that she didn't need to do it, but she couldn't help it. The nerves were bubbling under her skin as they wandered through the conference center, booths set up and discussions filling the air.
It didn't help that this was her first time in New York City. Jean had always declined field trips, staying behind to learn more from Hank about doctoring. She had come from a quiet town and the idea of lights and noise hadn't appealed to her. She had realized just how much she'd been missing out when they arrived.
It was exactly as big and busy as she'd thought it would be. She had nearly been run over three times on the way to the convention center. However, she was standing in a room filled with people willing to discuss mutant equality. She had been selected to represent her school in the city of the United Nations. Jean wasn't scared by all the people. Instead, she felt oddly comfortable.
She looked over her shoulder at Moira, who began shuffling inside her purse.
"Alright, you two have your money in case you want any snacks or anything right?' she asked.
"Yeah," Warren said, still looking around the center.
"And you have your maps?" Moira asked.
"Yes," Jean said.
"Both of you?" Moira asked.
"Yes mother," Warren said, rolling his eyes.
Moira folded her arms.
"When you get lost in an unfamiliar convention center in an unfamiliar city, don't come crying to me," Moira said.
Warren rolled his eyes again, but didn't say anything.
"Now, you're meeting me at five for dinner in the main hall," Moira said, "I'll see you at table 12. That's ours."
"Got it," Jean said.
"Alright," Moira said, "You two go and have some fun, okay?"
"We will," Jean said.
Moira nodded and walked off. Jean watched her go. For months she had gotten the strangest feeling that something was wrong with Moira. Whenever she'd try to express how she had an idea how people felt to the professor, he'd told her that it had to do with her telepathy manifesting itself.
She couldn't tell feeling without any conscious thought, and it did take some effort. The only reason she'd tried in the first place was because she'd seen Moira act odd from time to time. So Jean had reached out slightly, not enough to see her thoughts, but enough to get an idea if something was wrong.
For the longest time she had felt a great sadness from Moira. Jean wished that there was something she could do about it, but she also got the feeling that Moira didn't want to talk about it. She had considered saying something to the professor, but she'd felt the same sadness rolling off of him as well.
Uncertain of what to do Jean had remained silent. The feelings had become increasingly strong since they had come to the conference though. Jean couldn't say how the professor felt, but there was an alarming amount of anxiety mixed up in Moira's sadness. Once more she wished she could do something, but she had no idea where to begin.
Next to her Warren walked up, his expression bright. Jean wondered if she should tell him what she was thinking. She soon dismissed the idea. She had learned the hard way that you couldn't have too many close confidantes. Warren had been shorn off the list when he had gotten into a fight with Scott when she had started going out with him.
Their wounds had healed, but there were still scars. Jean smiled, trying to mask the small flicker of discomfort that she still felt around Warren. She wished that things were different, but they weren't. As such she had to hide her feelings from a boy who had once been her best friend. She'd had to pick her priorities, and she cared more for her relationship with Scott than she did for Warren's friendship.
At the moment she had managed to maintain both. She hoped that she could continue to do so. Jean knew that Scott, despite his protestations otherwise, was uncomfortable that she was going to the conference with Warren. It was irrational to feel like that, and she knew that Scott knew that.
However, common sense and feelings didn't always talk to each other.
"Ready to go exploring?" Warren asked.
Jean inclined her head.
"Sure thing," she said.
Moira walked outside of the convention center, taking deep breaths. She couldn't help the tremble of anxiety she felt. At that moment Charles was thinking about whether or not their relationship was worth salvaging, whether or not he would fight for it. It was something that he had to do alone, but the idea of not knowing what he was thinking was driving her insane.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. Why had she asked him to decide? Part of her was angry, angry that she couldn't be happy with what she had and move on. She could have continued on pretending as though nothing was wrong. Then she wouldn't have the burden of knowing.
Besides that, what about David? If Charles didn't want to continue their marriage, then their son would suffer for it. He would grow up without both of them constantly at his side. He would have to be ferried back and forth between them. The thought made a sob rise to her throat, but she choked it back down.
There were more questions. If Charles did say that he wanted a divorce, would she leave Westchester? It would be his house, not hers. She had worked for the school for over a decade. She couldn't imagine leaving it, leaving the dream that she had started to build for mutants.
At the same time, the two of them would need their space. In time she would probably be able to come back and resume her duties at the school. Charles wasn't the type to keep grudges. He couldn't even get angry at the sister who had abandoned him when he needed her most.
It was the time away that she was worried about. She could take David with her, but she didn't want David to be tossed from parent to parent. More tears welled behind her closed eyes but she took another breath. She managed to suck them back, putting them behind the wall that she had built for the sake of her own sanity.
Part of her was angry even for giving Charles the choice. If she was willing to fight for their marriage, then she could fight alone. Charles seemed to have sunk into a kind of apathy, and she could fight apathy. It wasn't beyond her. She knew that she could use what she had and try to wage a war for her marriage.
It had taken her a long time to realize that she couldn't do that though. A marriage was a union between two people. Both of them had to want it. It had to be a mutual decision to keep it going. Charles had to want to be with her for the rest of his life, to continue to love her, if he still did.
Moira felt lost. There was no one to turn to for advice. Instead she was left in a situation that was out of her hands. If she returned and Charles told her that he wanted a divorce, then she would argue with him, try to change his mind. Of course she would. Moira wouldn't be able to help it.
However, knowing that she was in a marriage that her husband didn't want would, eventually, be enough to do her in. She would leave because, as much as she loved Charles, she wanted him to love her too. She wanted him to care about her, about what they had built together, their life, their partnership, their son. Him caring about any of those at all might be enough to save their marriage.
At the same time it might not. She didn't know what he was feeling or thinking. It should have been the easiest thing in the world for her, and at one point it had been. Now it was gone, and if he didn't want to be married to her, then it was going to end. Moira could do many things, but she couldn't be with someone who didn't want her to be his wife.
Her mind echoed her wedding vows, ones that she knew were common but binding. She had told him that death itself would be the only thing that would part them. At the time she couldn't imagine how she wouldn't be telling the truth with those words. Now Moira wished that she wasn't going to be made into a liar.
She took another breath before turning and walking back into the convention center.
"I'm telling you, it's them!"
Lorna sighed and looked over at the two teens that Lance was pointing at. She shrugged, tucking a stray piece of her blonde wig behind her ear.
"So?" she asked.
"So?" Lance said, "That's Archangel and Marvel Girl."
"Keep your voice down," Lorna murmured.
Lance turned away from them. Lorna wondered where Tabby, Toad, and Senyaka were. She hoped that they were having a more productive day than she was.
"They're X-men," Lance said.
"Congratulations on looking at the briefing slides," Lorna said, "But I fail to see your point."
Lance gaped at her. She could tell this would take more than just a few brief words. She motioned away from the booth that they were at and towards a side hallway. When she was sure that no one had followed them and they were alone, she turned to him. She could see that he was still confused. Lorna searched for the correct words, stamping down the urge to just smack him.
"The X-men are at a mutant peace conference," Lorna said, "Seeing them here means nothing."
"It most definitely means something," Lance said.
She nodded.
"You're right."
His eyes lit up in triumph before narrowing in suspicion. He wasn't dumb enough to fall for that. Good.
"Of course," Lorna said, "It means that they're doing exactly what we'd expect them to do. You're only stating the obvious."
"That's not what I was saying," Lance said.
She raised an eyebrow.
"What were you saying then?" she asked.
He gestured around him.
"They're here," he said, "Probably without back-up."
Parts of Lorna's brain shut down. She clenched her jaw and counted to ten before answering.
"Are you suggesting that we attack them?" Lorna asked.
"Look who's stating the obvious now," he said.
Lorna stared at him, her brain flipping back on and heating up. She struggled to keep her expression icy.
"Let me get this straight," Lorna said, "You want us to attack them at a conference for mutant equality while they're minding their own business, ignoring the additional fact that a strange story like that will be on the news and give a twisted image of us?"
Lance frowned. He opened his mouth but Lorna cut him off.
"You sonuvabitch," Lorna said.
He blinked, looking offended.
"Hey, no need to get-" he began.
"I don't know what group that you think that you're with," Lorna said, "but the Brotherhood isn't filled with monsters. The last members who went after X-men outside of combat ended up getting taken off missions for months. One of them turned out to be a psychotic killer that we had to take down."
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she had to say it. She had to make sure that he understood what he was suggesting. Her mind went to Alex, of his low opinion of the Brotherhood's honor in battle. No wonder he thought so little of them when there were members who would casually suggest attacking the X-men at a conference.
As with most thoughts that included Alex, it bothered her.
"So you think very hard about what you suggest," Lorna said.
Lance glared at her, but his eyes glinted at the same time. His look made her uncomfortable, and she hated feeling like that.
"Do you understand?" she snapped.
He nodded, the strange glint still there.
"Now let's get back into the conference center," Lorna said, "And don't you dare leave my sight once we're in there."
He nodded again and Lorna turned on her heel.
"Good," she said.