"Alright little one, be a good boy and go to sleep. Then mommy will know that daddy can do just as good a job as she can at putting you to sleep."
David looked at him with bleary eyes. At three months David was a quiet child, and rather prone to grabbing things. Several times he had pulled Charles' hair if he made the mistake of getting too close to him. Moira had also had several close calls and she had taken to pulling her hair back. He, of course, didn't have enough hair do that. Charles almost thought that it would be worth it to shave his head if it meant that his son would stop pulling his hair.
Yawning David reached out with his hand. He grabbed onto Charles' finger, his entire hand curling around it. Everything about his tiny son seemed unreal. Just the other day they'd been decorating the nursery. They'd used the room next to theirs; it had been empty for a long time since it was too small for a teacher. Now it had been painted a soft yellow and a cradle had been moved in for 'Baby X'.
Many of the students, or their parents, had sent congratulatory notes or gifts. Doug had gone out of his way to give his favorite teacher a book of fairy tales.
"My mother used to read these sorts of stories to me when I was little," he said.
Those were big words coming from an eleven-year-old boy. She had thanked him and put them on a nightstand in the room next to theirs. Moira had been the chief designer of the nursery. Charles had helped as much as he was able, and Hank, Alex, and Sean had also lent their skills in remodeling.
He smiled when he thought of his three students and their interesting attempts to help model the room. Hank had set up an innovative speaker system so they could hear if their child was crying. Sean had baby-proofed the room. Alex had blasted a hole through the wall so a door could be added that connected the room to theirs. Charles was starting to wonder if his newfound maturity was only applicable to select matters.
Even his first meeting with his son had seemed unreal. He had first seen him in person through glass, nearly an hour after his actual birth. Then he had been able to finally visit his exhausted wife; her hair sweaty and plastered to her pillow. He'd never thought she'd looked more beautiful and took the opportunity to remind her how wonderful she was.
His first three students, who'd waited nearly as long as he had, shuffled in after a few minutes. They brought with flowers and candy to congratulate her. When they'd gotten to see David they'd made complimentary remarks, but seemed too nervous to ask to hold him. They might be exemplary young men, but they seemed at a loss when it came to babies.
Soon after they saw David they had left, nonplussed by the family moment. Someone needed to tell the school and keep it running after all. Charles had made it quite clear that he was spending the night at the hospital. If he hadn't been allowed to be near his wife during the delivery, then he would at least be near her afterwards.
They'd left the next morning with David in tow. Together they had laid him in his crib, completing the nursery. They had the weekend with him before they had to return to work Moira had, of course, had bed rest for another week before she returned to her normal duties. All of these duties included a rather quiet David that she held with her.
David's hand let go of his finger before grasping another one. So much about him was small and fragile. The little boy felt like a doll in his hands; a doll that he could crush or break if he wasn't careful. It went without saying that he was always very careful whenever he handled his son.
Still being careful he gingerly laid David into his crib. David yawned again and pushed at his face with his tiny fists.
"Hey David," he said, "Ready to go to sleep?"
There was another yawn. David pushed at the air with his fists one more time before falling asleep. Charles stayed for another minute before wheeling into the room next door. The door had stayed open for the next week, but the radio system that Hank had built gave them the ability to hear it whether or not the door was open. That night he closed it gently; he never knew what action he did might wake David up.
Moira was reading a book when he came in. She closed it and slid off the bed. With a smile she walked over and laid a kiss on his forehead.
"How's he doing?"
"Out like a light," he said.
"Time we should go to sleep too," she yawned, "Now come on. "
She pushed the wheelchair so that it was next to the bed. Early in their marriage he hadn't wanted her to help him move from one location to another. It had been embarrassing for him. As time went on he had allowed her to do it on occasion, mostly when he was feeling tired or sick. With her help he got into bed more easily then he could have done by himself. On this one occasion it came as a great relief since he had been dealing with David for the past half hour.
Moira slipped in next to him. Her head rested in the crook of his neck and her arms wrapped around him. It was a pleasant sensation, warm both physically and mentally.
Sighing he nuzzled her gently.
"So, how was your day?" he asked.
"Things have been busy," she said, "But that happens now that we've got a baby."
"Yes," he said, "You still haven't answered my question though."
"Well, Doug's making incredible progress in history," said Moira, "I'm glad; he's so good with math and science it seemed like a shame that that should be the only thing holding him back from having good grades."
"I'm glad too," said Charles, "And I think that I've finally gotten Sean to focus his voice into one specific area. That way it won't impede his teammates so much in the future."
There was a pause.
"You know, the boys were talking to me earlier," she said.
He turned his head.
"And?" he asked.
"Alex suggested that we maybe recruit a few more members," Moira said tentatively, "I'm sure that some of the students would be interested."
Charles pursed his lips.
"You know my views on that sweetheart," he said, "You know that I can't let that happen. I won't make children fight for me."
"A lot of your students aren't children anymore," Moira pointed out, "Many of them have been through more than most adults."
"And you think that I should put them through more?" demanded Charles.
She gave a frustrated sigh.
"Charles, we're outnumbered," she said, "The Brotherhood is growing. They only mentioned it because they're worried about facing bigger odds. Last time-"
"Was nearly seven months ago," he interrupted, "and it was a terrible plan to take over an airfield."
"Last time it was Hank, Sean, and Alex up against five of the members of his Brotherhood," continued Moira, undaunted, "If those they had faced had been any better trained then things would have gone horribly wrong."
"But they weren't."
"But they will be," said Moira, "I just don't think that we should make them fight alone."
"I'm not making them do anything."
"You know what I mean. They're a big part of this and they'll be the ones to get hurt if they're outnumbered."
He gave a deep sigh. She did have a point, one that he himself had thought of on several occasions.
"I'll think about it," he said, "But I make no promises."
Moira looked relieved and she snuggled deeper into his neck. The motion sent shivers down his spine and he stroked her hair. She looked up at him with a question in her eyes but a smile on her lips. Then the phone on the bedside table rang. He cursed his luck at the inanimate object's inopportune timing.
Moira leaned over and picked it up.
"Moira Xavier," she said.
She smiled.
"Hi Aunt Rose," said Moira, "It's good to hear from you. Why're you calling at this hour? It's not exactly the best time."
Charles propped himself up and watched as Moira became puzzled.
"Pink chintz? Pearls?" she asked.
Her frown deepened.
"Okay, I'm glad for you. But what-?"
She pulled the phone away from her abruptly.
"She hung up on me," Moira said, "She never does that."
Charles tilted his head. He had met Moira's aunt Rose during the preparation for their wedding. She was a talented geneticist, if not a smidgen eccentric. However, it had been nice to talk to someone who was receptive of his theories. Rose had also been very close to Moira, which was all Charles needed to know to try and get on her good side. She didn't seem to be the kind of person who would hang up on her favorite niece.
"What were you talking about?" he asked.
"Shopping," said Moira, "but she doesn't shop. And she hates pink. And pearls. She thinks that they're disgusting. She also mentioned a skirt. I've never seen her wear a skirt."
Biting her lip she turned to him.
"Something's wrong. I need to get down to Massachusetts."
"I thought she lived in Scotland."
"She does. She's doing a research project up there," said Moira, "I need to check on her."
"What about David?" Charles asked, concerned.
She hesitated.
"He's so small I couldn't possibly take him with me. Especially if something's wrong. You're good with him, I can make arrangements," Moira said, "But if I took the Blackbird then I could be back within the day. He'll stay here. It's safer for him."
Charles felt something twist in his stomach. This wasn't something he wanted to hear.
"Do you really think something's wrong, as in dangerous wrong, over there?" he asked.
Her hands cupped his face.
"She doesn't talk like this Charles. Something's wrong. Either that or she's gone insane."
Moira gave a nervous laugh.
"I'm not ruling either out."