September 4, 1974
"Moira, stay with me," Charles pleaded.
Her eyes were glazed over, her lips parted. Black fluid trickled out of them. She coughed, splattering the black all over the front of his shirt.
"Moira, love, it's going to be alright," he said.
Charles touched her face. He tried to bring her head up, give her some sort of leverage for her to cough, but her head bumped his mask. Charles swore to himself. He cradled her head in his hands, sitting her up straight. When he finished he reached up for his mask, determined to get it off.
Moira's hand stopped him. It was a weak touch, but its intent was clear.
"Moira?" he asked.
"Don't…" she whispered.
Charles shook his head.
"I need to," he said.
"Contagious…" Moira murmured, "David…"
Charles gritted his teeth, wishing that he didn't understand. However, he understood only too well. She was worried that the virus was contagious, which he admitted that it might be. They didn't really know much about it.
Worse than that she was reminding him that David needed a parent. Moira had already come to the conclusion that she wasn't going to make it.
"It's going to be fine love," he said.
Moira breathed in, her body jerking in a spasm. Charles tried to hold her still, feeling the cold sweat that coated her body.
"He needs you," Moira said.
Charles squeezed his eyes shut, the tears already spilling out.
"He needs you too," Charles said, "We both do."
He opened his eyes and saw Moira looking at him, the gray veins around her eyes becoming darker. He could see that the veins were prominent in her throat as well.
"Please, please," he said.
Moira didn't respond. She coughed again, more black fluid coming from her lips. Charles held her closer. He wanted to kiss her forehead, reassure her that things would be fine, but the mask was in the way. He wished that she hadn't reminded him about the mask, the barrier between the two of them.
He looked at her. He would have to be a fool not to realize that she was dying, something happening to her body that he couldn't comprehend. Charles had never felt so helpless in his life, not when the missiles had been fired at the beach, or Erik and Raven had left, or even when Sean had run from Maeve's funeral.
Moira was dying in his arms. There was so much left unsaid between them, so much that was supposed to have been fixed, so much he should have said or done. Instead he had let himself wallow in pity, and thus given him a new reason to hate himself. He was going to lose the one person who would never leave him.
"Moira…" he whispered.
The glaze over her eyes seemed to increase. He didn't know if she could hear him or not. Charles took a deep breath. He leaned his head down until his forehead touched hers. Charles could feel a fever burning skin that had been freezing a moment before. He closed his eyes, concentrating.
"Are we almost there?" Magnetrix asked.
Scott nodded and Warren sighed. He knew that they were taking too long, and he knew that he wasn't the only one frustrated. The X-men and Magnetrix were all looking anxious. The rest of the Brotherhood didn't really seem to care. Tabby or Boom-Boom still seemed a little shell-shocked, mixed with a healthy dose of embarrassment.
It was only fitting. She was the reason that they were in this mess. If she'd been able to attack or at least move when Sinister was coming at her, then Moira wouldn't have been taken. It did make Warren wonder about the Brotherhood though. He'd always seen them as vicious, not hesitant or scared.
"Has the Professor contacted you?" Magnetrix asked.
"If he had, you'd know," Alex said, "Trust me."
Magnetrix looked at him for a moment and continued running. Warren didn't feel entirely comfortable going back to Sinister's lab. He'd been more than a little scared although he hadn't understood much of what had happened in the lab. What he did know was that he'd remember his argument with Scott for a long time to come.
If things didn't go well, then it wouldn't just be a bitter argument with someone who had once been a friend. It would be his last real memory of Moira.
Moira got up. She looked around her at the ballroom, a special room rented out in a country club for what had been a very small wedding. She looked down at her gown, a simple, square-necked white dress that stopped at her shins. Moira looked around, feeling confused, her mind a jumble.
She knew that she wasn't at that club. She knew she'd been married to Charles for years. They'd had a son together. Only seconds before she had shaken with pain, fighting for every breath. Moira knew that she was in her mind somewhere, which meant that Charles was there too.
A hand came and grasped hers. She looked over and saw Charles, wearing the suit he'd worn on their wedding day. However, he was standing.
"Charles, what's-?" she began.
"Shhh," Charles said.
He pulled her closer to him and Moira complied. She could hear slight music from far away as he wrapped his arms around her.
"I wanted to have a proper first dance when we were married," he said, "You told me it wasn't important."
"It wasn't," Moira said.
"No. Not to you. You never cared about things like that."
She could hear a small, choked laugh escape his throat. He took one of her hands in his, his other hand snaking around her waist.
"Nonetheless, we can have one now."
Moira nodded slightly. The lights in the room were dimmed and soft. Outside she could see upstate New York, although it was nighttime.
"I can't do anything," Charles whispered, "I can't, Moira, love, I can't save you."
She bit her lip.
"I know," she said.
Charles held her closer.
"All I can do is numb your pain receptors and stretch out these moments in your head," he said.
Moira felt tears in her eyes. A few slipped out and fell onto Charles's chest.
"I'm so sorry," Charles said.
Moira swallowed and looked up at him. His face was full of pain and regret. She reached up and touched his face.
"There's nothing to apologize for," she said, "This wasn't your fault. Don't you dare think that it was."
"You would say that, wouldn't you?" he said, his voice low.
Moira managed a smile.
"You've said the same thing to me," she said.
Charles nodded. He looked at her, his expression full of desperation.
"I was going to change things," he said, "I was going to…Moira, I was going to make things right. I swear I was. I'm not just…I'm not just saying that-"
Moira turned her face and kissed him, his lips soft against hers. She pulled back.
"I knew that too," Moira said, "I heard it when you came. You…you're so easy to read Charles."
She managed a smile, but he didn't laugh.
"I love you," he said, "I'm sorry for not always showing it, for not doing what I was supposed to do, for all of those words that I never said when I should have-"
Moira kissed him again. This time it was shorter, and she kept her head closer to him.
"Charles, there are things that we have never said," Moira said, "But here's something for you to take with you."
She looked up at him.
"I love you," she said, "And nothing is going to change that. Even if things had…turned out bad, I would've still loved you. I would have just felt like we couldn't continue on."
Charles closed his eyes.
"I wasn't good for you," he said, "No matter what you say, you can't say that I was good for you."
"I can say that, because it's true," Moira said, "You changed my life Charles. I want you to know that before…"
Her final words got stuck in her throat. She pressed herself closer to him.
"You changed my life for the better," Moira said, "You showed me that my life could be so much more than I'd thought, that there was a world out there that needed my help. And our marriage, our marriage holds the best memories of my life."
She smiled, remembering. Moira wondered if Charles could see what she was seeing, the thousands of moments of laughter, tears, joy, and love. From the way he took a sharp breath she knew that he could. Moira was glad. He needed to see that, needed to be able to look back on their time together and remember their love.
"We have a beautiful son," Moira said, "A good life, a good school, doing so much in this world."
She grasped his hands.
"David needs you," she said.
Charles nodded, the gesture so small that she almost missed it.
"Take care of him," Moira said.
"I will," Charles said.
"And don't give up," Moira said, "Don't ever stop fighting Charles don't…don't retreat…don't run away…"
She thought of Sean, of the way he had hidden from them all. Charles couldn't do that.
"I won't," Charles said.
He let go of her hand and wrapped both of his arms around her.
"I won't," he said.
Alex ran into the room with Scott and stopped short. He saw Sinister sprawled out, alive, but with blood coming from his ears. It appeared that Charles had done a number on him. He looked further up and saw Charles and Moira. His first instinct was to call out to them, but then he took a closer look.
Moira's eyes were slightly open, her breathing only the faintest whisper. Black trickled aimlessly from her lips. Charles was bowed, his forehead touching hers. One of his hands was wrapped around one of hers tightly. Alex understood immediately, feeling as though the ground had been ripped out from under him.
Sean pushed his way to the front, his eyes widening.
"Oh my God," Sean said.
Alex swallowed, his head bowed. Next to him Scott began to understand, his whole body going rigid. He saw Lorna and the rest run into the room. Lorna stopped like he had, her hands hanging limply by her side. Boom-Boom gave a little gasp and turned her head away. The rest of the X-men filed into the room, stopping one after the other. They all knew that they were witnessing Moira's final moments.
Alex breathed in, feeling curses and screams welling up in his throat. It wasn't supposed to be this way. They weren't supposed to find this. He thought of Moira at the CIA compound, explaining which parts of the building that they weren't allowed to go into, thought of her coming back to the Institute, helping him as he tried to break a code, marrying Charles, walking into the Institute holding David.
Now it was over.
Moira slumped in Charles's arms. He knew that they didn't have much time. He could barely keep her on her feet and her breathing was becoming labored. Charles held her tighter, the idea that he was going to have to let her go soon too much to bear. It wasn't supposed to end like this.
Outside Charles could see the lights begin to dim, the night blanketing the landscape of Moira's mind.
"I don't have much time left, do I?" Moira murmured.
"No," Charles whispered.
The word felt like bile in his throat. There was a slight pause as one of Moira's hands came to rest on his chest.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
Charles swallowed.
"Until the end," he promised