Argh I hates finals. I can do them fine but stress is not fun and oi. Yeah those are next week so…just so ya'll know. The next chapters of everything may take a few more days. Or not. Sometimes I can write fast and sometimes I can't; it really depends on my mood, which makes so sense but anyhow… :P
I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter; I can't wait to hear from ya'll! Thanks so much for reviewing! It helps so much! (huggles all of you)
Chapter 5
Now
Mom? What was that? I felt that from here.
Jean, still at the library, calling him, and Charles lets out a breath and tells her what's happened. It's all right. Good news. Raven is pregnant.
Oh thank god, really? About damn time.
Language, Jean, he scolds.
Sorry…anyway, can I ask you something?
Of course. What is it?
It's Sean and Moira. Can I ask them to come for dinner? They keep doing that googly-eyed thing and then stopping and getting all sad and then they're googly-eyed again and then they're sad and it's depressing the hell out of me.
Jean!
What? Anyway, it's depressing. They need some cheering up, and there's nothing your soup doesn't fix.
Charles shakes his head to himself, glancing at the pot and supposing there's enough there for company. It's getting colder and when it's colder he tends to make more, hoping it will last a while. Soup is good for cold weather, for keeping health up and keeping warm, and he's been feeling a bit under the weather anyway. He has to admit that may be part of the reason he made it. Company will deplete the batch more quickly, but he can always make more.
Erik is looking at him quizzically, and he motions to his head in a familiar gesture to indicate he's speaking with someone telepathically.
"Do you have any aversion to the idea of company tonight?"
Erik's eyebrows go up. "What kind of company?"
"Sean and Moira. Jean is asking. And I suppose we ought to have Raven and Hank come as well. We have something to celebrate, after all, and Kurt is still here anyhow."
His husband shrugs. "Why not? Tell Jean to grab Alex on the way home, too. And she might as well bring that boy along if he's still with her."
Charles chuckles to himself. "That boy" has been a close neighbor since he was born, and Erik certainly knows his name, but since he's shown interest in Jean Scott has been "that boy." Perhaps it has something to do with said interest, and the fact that it's in Erik's oldest daughter.
Erik has nothing against Scott, of course, but Erik has always been protective of his children.
Bring them along, Charles tells Jean. Scott as well. And pick up Alex on the way here. I'll be asking Raven and Hank and Kurt to stay for dinner as well.
Really? Thanks, Mom! Making a party out of it, huh?
With only soup and bread it will be a meager one, but those too young to remember the world before the war know nothing else.
I don't see why not.
Any excuse to be happy, rather than discouraged.
Great. We'll all be there.
"They're coming?" Erik asks.
"Yes. Just let me see that Raven and Hank know."
He reaches out to his sister, and when she feels him she reaches back quickly and is glad that he's there.
I guess you know already?
Of course. You and Hank should come back here for dinner. There's enough, and everyone else is coming anyhow.
I'd already put something on the stove…
Well get it and bring it along. It can finish cooking here if it isn't ready, and we'll have more than way.
The equivalent of a smile in his mind, from his sister, and she agrees. We'll be there in an hour or so. I guess the kids won't be there until then anyway?
Likely not.
"That's taken care of, then. They'll all be here," Charles says aloud then, letting Erik know, and he nods.
Charles turns back to the pot on the stove, and the sudden reintroduction to the steam and the scent sets him coughing for a moment and he has to turn away again to avoid contaminating the food. There's some looseness in the back of his throat, and Erik gives him that look that has become so frustratingly familiar.
"The beginnings of a cold, I suspect. Nothing more," he says quickly. It isn't uncommon this time of year, but Erik is still thinking what he always thinks, whether or not Charles is supposed to be hearing it.
Could still be dangerous…
Anything could be dangerous in the world they live in now—the lingering radiation that both strengthens mutants and causes problems all at once, beyond killing humans—but that isn't what Erik means. That isn't why he thinks it, or why he still has that concerned expression on his face that's become so tiresome after more than six years. Charles's immune system has been weak ever since there were awful complications with Bobby and Kitty's birth, and with the pregnancy itself. Erik never misses a chance to ask him if he's feeling all right.
"I'm fine," he insists, and Erik relaxes a bit.
"Just make sure you eat plenty of this yourself," he says, nodding to the soup. "And stay inside for a few days."
"That was the general idea."
"Good." Erik's hand rests tentatively at his back for a moment before he moves off, and the soft shiver it sends up Charles's spine isn't at all unpleasant.
-Sixteen Years, Seven Months Ago
"Hank, are you coming with us?" Charles calls up the stairs. He hopes the boy says yes, because as well-behaved as he is if he stays here it's still one more child Raven has to keep and eye on while he and Erik are in town. Raven is quite competent, but five-year-old twin boys and an eight-month-old girl are enough for any teenager, and he still hopes they won't be gone long. Sean and Alex alone are a handful, but it would be harder to bring them along.
It's the dead of winter anyway. They don't need to be out. Hank, however, is older, nearly seven, and has been begging to come for days.
"You could just stay here," Erik tells him. "It's the market. I can go on my own."
"Nonsense. It's the only place we go in winter, really. I need to get out of this house for an hour or two."
"You can get out of the house when we go for your next appointment."
Charles pulls on his winter coat and buttons it over the bump. He's barely five months along, but it feels like forever already. It's been rather rough this time, even with the hormone injections.
It's been harder every time.
"That isn't for weeks yet," Charles protests, and then has to pull in a deep breath because he pulled on the rather heavy coat too quickly, and needs the air.
Erik frowns and steadies him. "We may go in quite a bit sooner than that, if nothing improves. You're exhausted. Why do you want to go out, anyhow?"
Charles sighs a bit, and makes a face. "Because I'm afraid it will only get worse and soon I may not want to go anywhere."
"That isn't encouraging."
"I am fully aware of that."
Erik isn't happy, but he doesn't protest any further. Hank comes down already bundled up, and Raven comes down as far as the platform where the stairs turn to see them off. Jean is on her hip, fingers stuck in her mouth.
"Stay warm," she tells them, and then looks at Erik. "And you, keep an eye on him." She nods to Charles, and Erik's eyebrows go up.
"As stubborn as he is, that seems to be about all I can do," Erik complains good-naturedly.
"Really, are you combining forces against me again?" Charles protests.
"Only when you need it," Raven answers, smiling brightly.
She's fifteen—the same age Charles was when he and Erik married, he remembers abruptly—and thank god the pairing system has changed a bit. It will be another two or three years before she's considered for matching.
She still seems to so young. God, were he and Erik really that young?
They must have been. They are twenty-three and twenty-six now, respectively, and they have four children with a fifth on the way.
It's the weekend and the market is busy—or as busy as it gets in winter when one has to dress so warmly to go outside at all. Hank runs into several friends and they run about playing together. Charles makes him promise to meet them in the center of the market at a certain time so that they can go home.
Charles and Erik have nearly everything they need when they notice the crowds shifting away, drifting toward the city gates. There's some sort of commotion there. There's a gathering around the barely-working monitor that shows the feed from the old camera that is trained on the outside of the wood and metal gates.
"Does she know who's in here?"
"What the hell…?"
"How is she even alive out there?"
Charles catches the snippets of conversation as well as the thoughts that go with them, and looks up at the monitor quickly.
Over the noise of the crowd he can't hear it from here as he probably could otherwise, but on the monitor is a young girl in ragged clothes that can't be keeping her warm, banging the wood of the gates and kicking and shouting. He reaches out with his mind and brushes a panicked, terrified consciousness.
"What in god's name are you all standing about for? Let her inside!" Charles says urgently.
The young woman in the booth by the gates, watching the camera and monitor, looks until she finds him through the crowd and narrows her eyes. "She's human." The young woman is dark-skinned and can move at inhuman speed as well as sense other mutants and their powers. Or lack of powers. Even from a distance. It's why she has the job that she has, at the gates.
Charles pushes closer to the booth, and Erik follows him, helping to make way. "It shouldn't matter," Charles insists.
"You know the rules. Everybody does."
"That law isn't written, and if it was it would be wrong," Charles seethes. "Perhaps we are not allowed to mate with humans, but that does not means we cannot save this girl's life. If she's left out there she will die."
The young women just shrugs and turns away from him. Charles starts to protest again, but Erik drags him back gently, to the back from the crowd and away from the commotion.
"You're not going to get through to her."
"We can't leave that girl out there."
Erik hesitates. "Charles, we don't have room here to take in every stray human that comes along. I know you don't like it—"
"How can you!"
He scowls. "I don't like it. I wish we could save everyone, but humans…if we have to save room for anyone, it should be our own kind," he says carefully. "Humans usually die anyway. We found that out the hard way in the first years after the settlements were established. It was a problem; they were sick, and it made others sick when we took them in…I don't even think you were here then. It's why we stopped."
"Erik, she'll freeze to death for certain if we do nothing!"
He can still feel the girl's panic. He knows how cold and alone she is—how certain she is that she'll die if she stays outside those gates for one more moment. She stops pounding and shouting, no energy to do it anymore, and sinks into a ball in the snow against the wood.
Charles pales. "Erik, please!" He's nearly doubled over now, from the girl's pain and sorrow, and Erik catches him. Inside him the baby shifts and kicks, agitated along with him, and that only makes it worse.
Erik panics when he cries out.
"Charles!"
"Erik, she's dying," he gasps. "Oh god, please do something. Please! You have to do something!"
Erik pulls him to a bench at the edge of the market where he can sit, and drops the bags at the foot of the bench and sits with him, arm still around his shoulders to keep him steady. "Charles—"
"I'll be fine! Help the girl!"
Erik looks at him for a long moment, Charles gasping harshly and willing his husband to trust him. To be with him on this.
"Erik, please," he whispers.
Finally Erik nods slowly and stands again. "Do you know her name?"
He pushes his fingers to his temple for a moment, his other hand still splayed over his stomach as if that might calm the baby. It isn't really.
"Moira. She's ten years old, and her name is Moira…and hurry."
Erik goes, pushing through the crowd and growling at anyone in his way. When he reaches the gates he brushes past the booth and opens one of the heavy gates on his own, pushing it by its nail and metal hinges. It's easy for him.
The monitor is too far away now to see clearly, but Charles can see everyone staring at it in shock. He knows what they're seeing because he's stayed with Erik, using his eyes and ears to know what's happening.
Erik finds the girl crumpled on the ground against the other gate, and bends to gently scoop her up. At first she struggles a bit, but he uses her name.
"Moira? That's your name, isn't it? It's all right; I'm here to help you…" And despite his protests before he's gentle and caring now—of course, because it's Erik, Charles thinks. He smiles to himself as the small human girl calms in Erik's arms and lets him carry her inside. The gate closes again behind them, latching just as it was, and everyone is glaring at them or simply stunned but no one makes a move to stop Erik as he brings the girl back to where Charles is.
The baby has calmed now, because Charles has calmed. The girl is no longer panicking; no longer sure she's going to die. He lets out a breath and gets to his feet. He's a bit unsteady, but not enough to need help to pick up the bags.
"I'll tell Hank to meet us now, instead of later. We should get her home," Charles says. Erik nods, and Charles does what he says he would do and heads for the center of the market, in the direction of home. Hank is obedient and is there when they get there. He stares at the girl in his father's arms, wide-eyed.
"Who's that?"
"She's going to be staying with us for a while," Charles says.
There isn't an extra bed in the house, but though they have their own beds Sean and Alex usually sleep in the same one anyway. They'll simply have to continue to do that until they can get another bed. The boys are still small enough; it won't be a problem.
Once home Charles ushers all of the children downstairs and then follows Erik back up, where he pulls the covers down on the last bed so that his husband can tuck the girl into it. They both pull the covers back up, and then Charles sits on the edge of the bed, watching her. She's asleep now, and warm. She can be fed when she wakes. She needs it.
"How did she end up out there?" Erik asks quietly, perching on the other side.
Charles grimaces, going back over what he'd gathered from her mind.
"Her family has survived out there for years. Near here. There were never many of them, and the last of them are gone now." He reaches to smooth her straight auburn hair from her forehead. "Her mother died three days ago. She knew the mutant settlements didn't usually take humans in, but she had nowhere else to go. This was the nearest city."
Erik makes a face now. "God…"
Charles looks at him, and reaches across the girl to close his fingers over his husband's hand. "Thank you," he says quietly. And Erik does something that isn't so usual; he turns his hand over so their fingers intertwine, and he smiles back some.
"You'll make a good man of me yet," he chuckles quietly.
"You are a good man."
Erik blinks at him, the smile gone in confusion a moment before it returns sheepishly. Over the years he's learned to really do it—smile—even if it still isn't quite a common thing for him. Usually when he does it it's directed at the children. They make him so happy, which in turn makes Charles happy.
When Erik does smile it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.
Even if there are perhaps a few too many teeth involved.
When they leave the girl to sleep Charles stops halfway down the stairs, dizzy, and Erik's hand is at his elbow when he leans into the wall.
"Are you all right?"
The dizziness passes quickly, but he still feels as if something is weighing him down all over. He's felt like that quite a lot recently.
But he nods. "Just tired...all the excitement, I suppose."
"Maybe you should lie down yourself." Erik is quiet for a moment, and neither of them moves. "I've noticed, you know. How it gets harder for you each time, no matter what they do. Have the doctors said anything to you that I don't know about?"
Charles shrugs a bit, twisting so his back is against the wall and it offers more support. "I uhm…it's hard to say. They've always been afraid that perhaps the mutation is a bit unstable, but the children have always been born all right…"
"What if that changes?" Erik asks worriedly.
"I don't know…I hope that doesn't happen."
"They told you to rest more toward the end with Jean; if they tell you that this time you actually should listen."
"I know, I know…" He sighs and rubs at his eyes, where he's beginning to get a headache. "I don't think I'll have a choice."
More uncomfortable silence, before Erik speaks again. "Maybe we should see if the Summers or someone else we know will take the girl in. The last thing you need is more stress right now—"
"Having her here isn't stress. I want to help her."
"But she's another mouth to feed, and another child to look after."
"She's older than the boys; I imagine she could help Raven watch them, and I don't suppose she would mind helping around here in other ways once she feels better—if she wants to; I wouldn't make her, of course."
Erik shakes his head. "Of course you wouldn't. You're you." He looks away for a moment, and grimaces. "I'm sorry…it's not helping you that we didn't really wait long enough this time. You didn't have much chance to recover beyond what they suggested before we…"
Charles chuckles quietly. "That is hardly your fault alone."
Erik colors a bit, which isn't something that happens often, and Charles finds it incredibly endearing.
"Oh…" Charles blinks and reaches for Erik's hand, to hold it to his growing middle. "There. Can you feel that? It's only in the last couple of weeks that I have really been able to feel it; I'm not sure if you can…"
The baby kicks again, not as violently as in the market but just a normal movement, and Erik really relaxes now, smiling more brightly than he has in a while.
"I take it you can," Charles smiles.
"I can." And he squeezes Charles's hand. "Can you make it down there now?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." Charles continues down the stairs, and when he makes it there the boys are playing on the floor and Raven is at the table with Jean in her lap. When Jean sees him she holds out her arms. She hasn't quite begun to say anything yet, but a small, emphatic telepathic feeling that has always seemed to mean Mom pushes into his mind.
He would take her immediately, but right now he's afraid he might drop her. He looks at Erik, nudges the feeling at him along with his own concern, and Erik goes to Jean instead and plucks her from Raven's lap.
"Not now, mein Schatz. Mom needs to rest," he says gently. And it's all right, because she's just as happy with her father.
Charles takes the chair next to Raven, who looks at him with concern. "Charles?"
"I'm all right."
"How's the girl?"
"Sleeping. I believe she'll be fine as well."
Raven nods, glad, but suddenly gets to her feet. "Sean come back here!" When Charles looks he sees the boy clambering up the stairs. Raven goes after him, and both of them disappear for a moment or two before she carries him back down.
"She's pretty," Sean is saying, looking back up the stairs.
Charles, Erik, and Raven can't help but laugh.
-Now
Moira hugs him enthusiastically when she arrives with Jean, Scott, Sean, and Alex. "Charles, I never see you anymore," she complains, arms around his neck.
"That would be my fault," Erik admits.
Charles rolls his eyes as she finally releases him. "You know he hardly lets me out of the house anymore."
"I'm only concerned for your health, and you could ignore me if you really wanted to, you know. You do it often enough," Erik chuckles.
Charles ignores him now, and turns back to Moira. "You could always come to see us here more often."
"When I come here you feel like you have to cook something."
"Do you not like my cooking? After four years living in this house you might have said something." She was fourteen when the council grudgingly offered her the position at the new library, because none of the other young people really wanted to take it. None of them cared enough. Charles begged her to wait a year or two, until she was a bit older, but though she loved them all she was always fiercely independent, too. She took the position then.
She laughs. "You know that's not what I mean; I don't like to put you out, that's all."
"You could never do that," he says, and kisses her cheek. "We still miss you here." It's been twelve years since she left, but it's still true.
"You can say that again," Sean says, coming up beside her and slipping an arm around her shoulders.
Raven and Hank return soon, Raven carrying a pot of her own, and by then it's getting later and everyone is more than ready to eat. The first floor of the small house is somewhat crowded with twelve people, and the table only has room for half of them or so, but Jean and Ororo don't mind sitting on the floor with Bobby and Kitty and Kurt, and it works out well enough.
It's the first time they've all been together in months. There was once in the summer and Christmas before that, but strangely enough though they all live in the same city it's hard to get them all in one place like this, in recent years—since Hank and Sean and Alex moved out, certainly. They're adults now, they have their own lives to live, and Charles misses them. He knows Erik does too. The thought of Jean and Ororo leaving the house soon too hurts just as much.
It's natural. He knows that. Children grow up, and they move on.
That doesn't make it much easier.
It doesn't help, not knowing if they'll be happy. At dinner he watches Sean and Moira sitting far too close, and he knows Jean and Scott are holding hands under the table. Part of him is happy that they've found love the way it should be, and the rest of him is in pieces worrying that they won't be able to keep it.
He doesn't know if it's the emotions warring in his chest or the cold he's coming down with or the fact that the house has grown stuffy with so many people in it, or a combination of it all, but by the time dinner is over and the others are trickling away and the children are retreating upstairs Charles is horribly nauseous. He excuses himself and retreats to the bathroom.
The bathroom isn't large, and with the limited resources the only fixture with running water is the toilet and even that harkens back to older designs. There is a chain to pull to flush it. The tub has a hand pump, and the sink is merely a washbasin with a mirror over it that is a broken piece of what was once a much larger one.
Charles leans over the washbasin and squints at himself in the mirror, realizing he looks tired. He wishes he knew exactly why that was, why he feels sick, but then again it hasn't been uncommon since Bobby and Kitty were born.
There is at least one thing it can't be: he and Erik haven't been together recently enough.
In truth, they haven't been together at all since Bobby and Kitty's birth, and he wishes he knew why that was, too.
It's only a moment later that there is a quiet knock on the bathroom door. Charles knows it's Erik, and he sends a brief thought that tells his husband it's all right to come in. Erik does, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
Charles lets out a breath, and it comes out a bit unsteady. "I…I don't know. Just nauseous…tired. It's probably just the cold."
Erik's hands goes to his back again, like earlier, a gentle pressure between his shoulder blades, and he feels the same shiver. "We should take you to the infirmary tomorrow."
"I thought you wanted me to stay inside," Charles retorts good-naturedly.
Erik raises an eyebrow. "That was when it just a little phlegm. This is something else. It may not be just a cold."
"Erik, I'm all right…"
"You always say that. What if you're wrong?"
"You worry too much."
"I have every right to worry! How many times do I have to remind you that we almost lost you six years ago?" Erik is already close—the small bathroom doesn't allow for much distance anyway—but he presses closer now, his lips hovering over Charles's forehead, brushing it gently after a moment. "I don't want anything to happen to you," he whispers.
Charles's body is reacting to the proximity. It's a sensation he's familiar with and he's never connected it to feelings—always considered it completely biological, and the only reason they were, occasionally, together at all in the years between Ororo's birth and being asked to try to for one more child. But right now he can feel Erik's concern for him, thrown together with other pleasant things that he isn't as familiar with, and he isn't certain but he thinks the physical response is happening more quickly because of it all.
Does that mean something?
Part of him wants to believe it does, but they've never spoken of such things.
They turn into each other without a word, and Erik is breathing against his mouth now, rather than his forehead. They're both breathing more heavily and Charles is growing hard, and against his hip he can feel that the same is true for Erik.
"If I'm sick…" he protests weakly. "You don't need a cold. You know it throws off your powers. If the work schedule falls behind they won't be happy…"
Erik growls a bit against his cheek. "Let them be unhappy. Who the hell do they want to keep out with metal walls, anyhow?"
God, they need this. Even if it's only physical. Even if it doesn't mean anything. It's all right. Charles is growing tired of keeping himself satisfied, and having to do it in the bath because it's the only place he can. He's relatively sure Erik feels the same.
Erik is breathing in the scent of his hair now, gripping his shoulders, holding him closer. They press together and Charles bites back a gasp.
"Bedroom," he manages.
And that seems to snap Erik out of it rather than help.
He pulls back suddenly, still holding Charles's shoulders but looking at the floor now and trying to calm his breathing.
"Erik?" Charles asks anxiously. He tries to get close again, automatically, but Erik holds him off gently, though firmly.
Erik shakes his head quickly. "Sorry…I'm sorry…" And he pulls away as if he's going to leave. The feelings are all still there, but they're dampened by something else now—something like pain, or regret—and Charles doesn't understand. Why the hell is he leaving? They both want this.
Or they did. But Erik is upset now, rather than hard, and he goes quickly and shuts the door again, leaving Charles alone and hurt.
It shouldn't matter. Erik, for some reason, doesn't seem to want him anymore, despite the other things Charles senses from him, but it shouldn't matter. It's only physical. It isn't important. The physical doesn't matter anymore. They're not being asked to have any more children; certainly not after what happened six years ago. Their relationship is just fine otherwise. So it doesn't matter…
He has to satisfy himself yet again, before he's able to emerge from the bathroom, but it leaves him disappointed. By the time he goes upstairs to be sure the twins are in bed and makes it to the bedroom for the night Erik is already asleep—or feigning sleep, but Charles knows he's awake—and he changes and climbs silently under the covers on his side of the bed and faces the wall, cursing himself for the lump in his throat.
The next day they act as if nothing happened, but they only speak to each other when they have to.
