The mansion had changed drastically since he'd last seen it. More trees had been planted and benches installed. As he walked through the halls he saw classrooms labelled and numbered. Erik took care not to be seen as he entered Charles' study. He hadn't come to cause any trouble that day after all.
Nothing much had changed there at least. On one of the shelves was what he assumed was a wedding picture of him and Moira. Apparently things really had progressed. The urge to go through the desk and find out what else he was up to was nearly overwhelming.
He sat down in one of the chairs in front of Charles' desk, wondering how much longer it would take before his friend appeared. Mystique was waiting in a hotel in the village with Azazel. They were there in case any government agents got any clever ideas. In them he had both back-up and an easy way to leave.
After waiting for a few minutes he heard the door open. Charles wheeled himself inside, closing the door and locking it before proceeding.
"Afraid of something happening Charles?" asked Erik.
"Afraid of Hank coming in. I don't think his reaction to your presence would be positive," Charles said, "The only people who know you're here are Moira and I."
"Hm. From your wedding ring and the picture I can only assume she's the current Mrs. Xavier," Erik said.
"Around two years ago actually," Charles replied.
He cocked his head.
"I told you that you didn't need the helmet," he said.
"Yes; I heard that when you used Angel as a mouthpiece for your invitation. Don't do that again Charles."
Inwardly he shuddered. Seeing Angel's eyes roll in the back of her head and then start speaking with his old friend's words had been horrifying.
"It was the only surefire way I knew I could contact you," Charles answered.
"Well, you'll understand if after that display I prefer to err on the side of caution," Erik said, tapping his helmet.
Finally his wheelchair settled so that it was next to Erik's chair.
"It's strange. I haven't worn the helmet for years without the cape," he added.
"They're both over-theatrical," said Charles, "I hope you trust my word more over the next few days. Otherwise things will be awkward."
Erik's eyes narrowed.
"The next few days?" he asked.
"Your decision," said Charles, "I'd like to start this conversation by asking if you were ever acquainted with a woman named Susanna Dane."
Something in his brain sparked. He shoved it down but Charles had already seen the surprise on his face.
"I'll take that as a yes," Charles said, "How so?"
"Why?"
"No need to be so suspicious," sighed Charles, "I'm just asking a question."
Still wary Erik said;
"She was a nurse in the ward that took care of refugees from the camps. We were around the same age. I didn't have any family so I ended up staying there for several years."
"And the two of you were romantically involved."
It wasn't a question. His hand formed into a fist.
"My past isn't exactly the smoothest stroll down memory lane," he said, "And if you're just going to ask these questions, then I'd ask that you stop. Then we can start up a game of chess. At least there would a point to that."
"There's a point to this," said Charles.
He cleared his throat.
"A few weeks after you left Susanna found out that she was pregnant."
The word 'pregnant' clanged in his head and turned his insides to lead. Far off in the distance he heard Charles continue to speak.
"Nine months later she gave birth to a girl named Lorna."
Mutely Erik shook his head.
"No, that can't be right. You've made some sort of mistake Charles."
"I'm afraid not," he said, "Susanna died some months ago but she left documentation naming you as Lorna's father."
Erik buried his head in his hands. The metal of his helmet was cool, and for once he was grateful for its frigid temperature. At least that way there was something to contain his now-feverish skin.
"It was rather, shocking when we found out," Charles said, "But we should have seen it. I think I did, just hoped that it wasn't true. She does look a little like you to be honest."
Through his confusion Erik gave Charles a helpless look.
"You've met her?" he asked.
"She's one of my students," replied Charles.
His mind was racing, corroborating everything he had heard over the past few months with the new information.
"Is she part of your 'X-men'?" he asked.
"Yes," said Charles, "She fought her way onto the team. Literally. Managed to do quite a bit of damage before she was confirmed as a member."
Erik gave a bitter laugh.
"If it helps, she doesn't know that Erik Lensherr is Magneto," said Charles, "There was no real reason for us to name you before this point."
"Thank you for that much," Erik said, "But…she controls metal, doesn't she?"
One of his eyes opened in time to see Charles nod.
"Riptide told me about it," said Erik, "At first I was furious that there was someone out there who was exactly like me. But now…she's my daughter?"
"We're positive," said Charles, "I thought that the ability to control metal was just a coincidence; some mutations repeat. But with her mother's information it's certain."
Suddenly it all seemed too much. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Erik hadn't had any family since his parents had died. He'd lost his chance to gain one when he'd spurned Susanna and her father's offer to take him with them to America. He couldn't have gone though. If he had gone to America then he never would have been able to find Shaw or any of his associates.
Susanna had never seemed to understand that. The more he talked about hunting down those who had wronged him the more uncomfortable she became. It was why he'd never revealed his mutation to her. In her mind things were black and white, good and evil, no middle ground. That had been one of the things that convinced him that they were too different. When he was seventeen he told her that he cared about her but it was time for them to part ways.
Over the years he had grown more and more distant from the rest of humanity. He was tied down to no one. When he had met Charles the offer of family was again put on the table. Again he had spurned it, though he realized that he did want Charles to be his brother in more than just their cause. His reason for rejecting family was just that time. He was doing it for the sake of mutantkind.
Any time someone had tried to make him their family he had shoved them away. Now though, now he had already made Lorna his family. She'd been his family from the moment she'd been conceived. It didn't matter if it took him a long time to find out about it or not. She was his daughter.
"I…this is a lot to take in," he said at last.
"I'd imagine so," Charles said, "But Lorna has expressed an interest in meeting you."
He blinked.
"She wants to…she…she'd want to…?"
"She came in here the other day with her assembled information and asked me to try and find you. It's how I found out in the first place acutally," Charles said, "I felt that I was in no position to deny either her or you."
"You were in every position," Erik said, suddenly feeling a surge of irrationality, "She's a member of your team. For all the times we play chess we're still on opposite sides of the board. Why would you do this for me?"
Charles gave a wry smile.
"Erik, on my desk there are several pictures. Do you see the one with the silver frame? It's new, the frame I mean. It was an anniversary gift from Moira's mother."
"I see it," he said warily.
"Turn it."
With a glance he had the frame rotate so he could see the picture. His eyes widened. The picture portrayed Moira, smiling. Yet, he barely even noticed her. In the picture she was holding a chubby child with a few strands of auburn hair. The child's periwinkle blue eyes gazed with interest at the camera.
"You're a father?" he asked.
"Yes. His name is David, David Charles Xavier," replied Charles, "Moira wanted to name him after me but we negotiated so it became his middle name. He'll turn seven months soon."
"I'm glad for you," Erik said, the sudden excess of paternity feeling like a punch to the gut, "but I'm not sure how this relates to our conversation."
"You don't?" Charles said.
His friend gave him a sad smile and leaned back in his wheelchair.
"It has everything to do with it," he said, "And I'll tell you why; if Moira had given birth to David and I'd never met him, never even known him, then I know I'd want more than anything to rectify that."
Swallowing Erik looked down.
"Now Lorna doesn't know you're here," he said, "You can have as much time as you want to think about whether or not you want to meet her-"
"No," interrupted Erik.
His hands touched the cool metal of his helmet. He took it off and laid it on the desk. When he looked up his face was set.
"I'm meeting her as soon as possible, and not as Magneto," he said, "It's high time Erik Lensherr met his daughter."