July 17, 1957
There was, Erik supposed, some sort of etiquette he was supposed to follow. His movements were preordained by it. It had been written down before he had even been born. He'd only signed the deal when he'd decided to help free the mutants imprisoned in Genosha. It had been finalized when he'd agreed to taken on the title of King.
He'd talked about it once with Charles. Being the only person in the same situation as him, he'd felt that it would be safe to discuss it. The two of them were friends and had never really expected to be doing the job that they were. Still, they had proved to be pretty good at it thus far. Only time would tell.
In the end they had realized something. Politicians weren't real people to their constituents. They didn't make mistakes, didn't feel the same things that anyone else did, and constantly thought of the good of others. They were invincible and strong, and even the smallest crack in the image would bring them down.
Admittedly Erik knew there were exceptions to this role. People didn't like leaders who seemed too robotic. Politicians who were too single-minded made people uncomfortable and were branded as 'fanatics' or 'wackos'. Constituents wanted people who were real and yet not real. Sometimes he could only look despairingly at the contradictory nature of those around him.
Emotions, in general, were the downfall of any leader. Or, at least, if they were seen to have them. There were exceptions to it. If leaders were seen exhibiting some positive emotion then they could get away with it. Defiance, love, bravery, courage, all of those were acceptable. It even made people admire them, seeing them as overcoming it all to be some noble creation.
Fury, disappointment, and depression were forbidden. Constituents complained about the weakness of candidates, about how they dared to give into temptation. It was no more than any normal person would go through, but it became a deadly sin when a politician gave in. Once more it was completely contradictory. A candidate of the people could exist. He just wouldn't get elected.
It was probably why so many politicians felt their sanity slipping. There was continual pressure to make the right decisions, speak in the right manner, and to present yourself in a certain way, and to have the people you were in a relationship with be a certain way. Charles had been the one to bring that up, his voice quiet. His reticence to elaborate had confused Erik, but he couldn't dig too deeply without his friend shutting down. He had his own suspicions, but they were for another time.
In the face of the landing plane he felt that pressure baring down on him. He didn't want to be there. His wife and daughter would not be on that plane. No one would ever know how he felt about that. Charles was the only one who'd known that he'd had a family. He would have to smile and grit his teeth inside while the others around him were reunited, given some sort of idea of what it was like to have a family again.
God only knew what had happened to his wife and daughter. He tried to hold back the barrage of feelings he felt when he thought about them. Susanna had been special; there was no arguing with that. She had been the first to give his life color after he left the camps, the first to try and bring him back in the world. She had stood by during his rages and while they were hunted, leaving only when he begged her to. Even then he felt that if he hadn't pled on behalf of thier daughter she wouldn't have left him.
Lorna was a miracle, his own flesh and blood filtered to preserve its innocence. They had been alike when she was growing up. Susanna had called her 'daddy's little girl' and he'd glowed with pride. It made him think that his old life was behind him, that there was something else that he was good at now. She was the best of him and now it appeared that she was lost to him as well.
Yet, he watched with a pleased expression as families ran to each other. The emotion didn't reach his eyes, but it was enough for the people around him. Azazel teleported to a couple with a son, pulling them into a hug. They boy yelled something about cousin 'Azzy' but the rest was obscured by the crowd. He watched Alison Blaire make tentative motions towards her mother before the woman pulled her into her embrace.
Memories flickered in his head. It felt like he was back at one of the many train stations after the war, watching families come for their lost members. The beautiful scenes had been burned into his memory, probably because he'd known that no one was coming for him. He'd gotten through it by holding onto Susanna's hand, the two of them there for a formality. Now she'd been taken as well.
Charles stood next to him, the success at what he had made happen marred by Erik's feelings. He brushed past him and walked up to the podium. There were words he was supposed to say. Erik couldn't see the CIA agents he was supposed to be thanking; they hadn't gotten off the plane yet. There was too much confusion, and he bet that they had stayed in the back to make sure everyone got off safely.
Still, he took a deep breath. A few people were looking at him now. Azazel was gesturing towards him with a smug smile on his face. That was it. Charles and he had made this happen, had made a safe world and then invited families to come. That was why he had to be there when he would rather not be reminded of his shortcomings as a husband and father. It was that wall, that image. It had to be maintained.
"I would like to welcome you all to Genosha," he said, "I know the trouble and the great sorrow that pervaded your lives since you were separated. But-"
His eyes scanned the crowd, landing on the plane that was just finishing unloading. Whatever else he planned to say died in his throat. Moira and Levine were stepping out of the plane, assisting two more passengers. His eyes focused on a woman carrying a little girl. They were both dressed in somber clothes, drab from use.
They looked as though she had come from a funeral or some sort of home. They were clothes that were worn to show how sober or upset the wearer was. Yet, the dark colors made the little girl's hair show even more brilliantly. He'd seen mutants with hair all the colors of the rainbow, and yet the peculiar shade of green caught his attention. Somehow he knew it was the same color of her brilliant eyes which found his.
And he knew.
Erik?
He ignored his friend and continued to stare. His mind went to another time, another place. He blinked and he was at a small house on the edge of town. It very little to recommend it. They'd been living on a small income, but he'd made sure that they were taken care of. It was the only thing that he was any good at, making sure that people were taken care of.
The house had been bought a few weeks before Susanna had given birth. Lorna had grown up in that house, seeing the world from its windows. He'd been amazed by the purity of her childhood, by her questions about the world. Bolstering this all was the knowledge that murdering Shaw and his torture in the camps had had no impact on her. Somehow he had mixed with Susanna to create a child of perfect innocence.
Erik, is something wrong?
Continuing to ignore Charles he began stepping down. He saw Lorna point, her expression questioning. Her gesture caused her mother to turn her head. Susanna's mouth opened, his name framed by her lips. Erik stepped into the crowd, pushing through them. The crowd parted, puzzled at his actions. Their eyes were following him, trying to figure out what was going on, but he didn't care. All he could think about were the figures standing next to the plane.
They met a few yards from the plane, Susanna just stumbling down the last steps. Lorna reached out her arms just as he met them.
"Erik!
"Daddy!"
Erik took the two of them in his arms, his daughter's small arms around his neck. He bolstered Susanna in his arms as well, feeling their combined weight. Lorna was heavy; children grew up in three years. Erik nearly sobbed with the thought, the years he had missed and could never get back. Where had the time gone?
The years and passed and now she was seven instead of four. Lines of stress and anxiety had scarred Susanna's face. He had no idea what had happened to Lorna's hair or when it had happened for that matter. Perhaps it was part of a greater set of mutations. She had always been like him. It didn't matter though, because she was here with him and not going through some hellish experience.
By some act of God she had been spared that. He could tell. No child could go through that and come out rosy-cheeked and happy like she was. Lorna began crying and he wondered if he was too. Vaguely he registered clapping and a few cheers. An even vaguer thought reminded him about the assembled group of reuniting families, but he brushed it away. What did it matter? His family was safe and he didn't care who knew it.
"How on earth did you find them?"
Levine shook his head and rested his hand against the glass of the window. Two cars had been brought up to the landing strip for Erik and him, one of them originally to be part of a motorcade. The original plan was for the agents, him, and Erik to be in the same car and make small talk. Now that Lorna had appeared Charles had, without any discussion, moved them to the second car.
It was an unexpected development, but one that he appreciated. His friend had been reunited with his wife and daughter after three years. The least he could do was give them some privacy. Things would be changing for them soon enough. Erik was a king now, and that would change thier lives drastically. The public spotlight would be thrust onto them. Susanna would have to prepared to be a Queen and Lorna would have to be prepared to continue her line as her father's heir.
Yet, for now they were just a family who had missed each other terribly. There was no need for reality to intrude.
"I didn't find them," he said, smiling, "Credit for that goes to Moira here."
"You dug up the names," Moira said.
"Yeah, but I wasn't going to go anywhere with it," Levine said.
"Why not?" asked Charles.
"Because I didn't think it was them," said Levine, "Moira here figured it was worth the risk. She drove three state lines on a rumor and a hunch."
He shook his head.
"All we had was a last name and a place."
Charles gave Moira a wondering look, feeling his chest contract painfully. He'd been right; there was something amazing about the woman in front of him. She was a one of a kind creation and he knew he couldn't be the only one who saw it. He felt the urge to whisper congratulations, to reach for her, keenly.
He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he knew that he'd failed by Moira's face. Beneath the look in his eyes Moira ducked her head.
"It was the closest we'd gotten in months," she said, rubbing her eyes to keep herself awake, "If I didn't look into it and left it for later then it would take months before we could organize another trip."
"You did all that for a family you didn't know?" asked Charles.
Moira gave him an even look.
"We needed it politically," she said, "And...the was described as being about seven."
He caught the connotations. Rahne was eight.
"It didn't seem right to me to have her be separated from her father when it was possible that I could fix it," Moira siad.
"Good thing you go with your morals. Who'd have known?" asked Levine, "You just gave Genosha its Queen and Princess."
She shrugged and gave a tired smile.
"I won't lie," she said, "I did have my suspicions when I saw her about whose daughter she was."
Moira hesitated before continuing.
"Alright, maybe a little bit before," she said, "Magnus did seem more than a little upset when I said I couldn't find them."
Charles winced at the memory.
"But I was only really sure when I saw her in person," she said, "They look a lot alike."
"I hope you use that line again when you see him later," said Charles, smiling, "I'm sure he'd enjoy it."
"Now don't go sharing state secrets with me," Moira said, "I'll be out of a job if you just keep spilling everything to everyone."
"Not to everyone," he said, "Just to you."
Moira rolled her eyes. She tensed suddenly and Charles wondered what was the matter. He suddenly realized that Levine was looking at them, slightly puzzled. Charles was puzzled himself until he remembered that they had never spoken like this around anyone else. They had always been a bit more reserved, a bit more careful.
Their separation had lowered their walls a bit. He swallowed, realizing just how desperate he'd been to talk to her again. The desperation had been enough for him to forget how he should act. However, he knew that she was going through the same thing. Otherwise she wouldn't have done it either.
Charles swallowed again.
"In any case," he said, "You'll be staying in your old room. We figure we'll keep that hotel open for conferences and such."
"Thank you," she said, "There's going to be a lot that we need to discuss."
He felt his chest contract again.
"Yes," Charles replied, "I do believe there is."