"Moira, can we talk?"
Moira shifted uncomfortably. She swallowed, finishing brushing out her hair and pulling it back. Trying to remain calm she turned around.
"What about?" she asked, "We went over our strategy on the plane."
"Not…not that," Levine said, "And I think you know what I'm talking about."
She set down her brush and sighed.
"Look," he said, "what the hell was that back there?"
"It was just banter between colleagues," Moira said, trying to keep her tone light, "You shouldn't over exaggerate its importance."
"And you shouldn't under exaggerate it," said Levine, "That wasn't just banter. I'm not exactly Einstein here, but he was flirting with you back there."
"Some guys do," Moira said, getting up and brushing imaginary lint off her dress, "We both knew he wasn't serious, so it was okay."
Levine's expression didn't change.
"It's a game," she sighed, frustrated, "We all play it."
"Not like that," said Levine, "You're quicker on the uptake than I am and I've noticed…"
He hesitated before giving a deep sigh.
"He likes you Moira."
There was no undercurrent of jealousy in his voice, no righteous tone. Levine wasn't bringing it up to chew her out. He was doing it because he was worried. Somehow that made it worse, because she knew that his concerns were valid. She had gone over them several times in her head herself.
"And…I know that you and he…are friends," Levine said slowly, "And I know you might, well, reciprocate-"
"I'm not stupid," snapped Moira.
"I'm not saying you are," said Levine quickly, "But neither of us wants things to get out of hand. Xavier seems like a good guy, but…"
"We already have an understanding," Moira said.
She regretted the words the minute she said them. Levine's eyes got wide and he sank down weakly on his bed.
"Seriously?" he asked, "Seriously?"
"I told him that things between us were professional, and that was how they were going to stay," she said, cursing herself internally, "And that it was going to have to stay that way. He cares about his country; he understands that Levine."
Levine briefly buried his head in his hands, murmuring inarticulately to himself. When he lifted his head up he said;
"Moira, this has to stop."
A lump formed in her throat.
"There's nothing to stop," she said, "Nothing's happening."
"I know that, you know that," Levine said, "It sounds like he does too. Besides, you're not like that."
She crossed her arms.
"Then what are you talking about?"
"The flirting. The banter," said Levine, "The whole…overfamiliarity of it all."
Irritation replaced her apprehension.
"Who are you, my mother?" Moira asked, getting up.
"Moira, you know I'm right."
"I know that you're being rather meticulous in this," she said, "You and Neena seem to be decent friends, maybe you're being overfamiliar too."
"Listen to me for a minute," Levine said urgently, getting to his feet, "I'm your partner. And that means that my first and foremost duty is to make sure that nothing happens to you. Okay? I'm here to watch you back."
The sentiment was touching and made her pause. Moira wondered what McCone would think of that if he heard it.
"Right now, we're in a really weird situation," he said, "We're the unofficial ambassadors to a country full of super-powered people and when we go back you know we're going to start looking for the MRD. That's crazy enough."
He waved his hands wildly.
"But…but this too?" he said, "I don't approve of how people view this kind of thing. Moira, if McCone found out there's one of two ways this thing can go."
Levine held up a finger.
"One is that you get fired," Levine said, "Your impressive record won't matter; you'd get dropped like a rock. You know McCone's not exactly a feminist to begin with."
He held up another finger.
"Two is that…two is that he has you seduce Xavier to get information out of him. He can't force you, but believe me when I say that it would be bad enough if he asked," he said, "I've been around longer than you have; I've seen it happen. And I don't want to see it happen to you."
She swallowed hard.
"I don't want to lose my job Levine," she said, "Not when I'm finally doing some good."
Moira hesitated and then sighed. There was too much she was feeling at the moment, too much pain and confusion.
"And I don't want to hurt him," she said, "I admit that I care more than I should. But I don't want…I don't…"
Tentatively Levine walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"I understand," he said, "But it's what's going to happen if it reaches the higher ups. Now, it will never come from me."
"I know it won't," said Moira.
He gave a brief smile.
"But we have to make sure it can't come from another source," he said, "I'm sorry that I have to be the bearer of bad news…but-"
"No," she said, "You did the right thing."
Moira breathed in and got up.
"I think it's time to go downstairs," Moira said.
"This is really pretty," Lorna said, tugging on her blanket.
Erik smiled, pulling it up so the blanket was tucked under her chin. She smiled slightly, yawning from the lateness of the hour. The smile was somewhat tentative. He understood that her memories of him were tenuous at best. He would work to rectify the situation.
"Can I see more tomorrow?" she asked, "This place is pretty big."
"Of course you can," Erik said, "But right now it's past your bedtime. Go to sleep and I'll show you more in the morning. Alright?"
She nodded happily and burrowed deeper into the comforter. He waited until she was asleep to leave the room, closing the door gently behind him. Clarice had been posted outside the door and he nodded at her. He was going to have to set up a guard for his family. He'd have to be more discerning then he'd be with Charles or himself; Lorna was young and he didn't want Logan or Emma scaring her.
He walked across the hall to his own room. Susanna was inside, taking a shower from the sound of it. She'd worked on making sure that Lorna was taken care of before he'd told her to try and take care of herself. She hadn't looked like she'd slept a wink during the entire plane ride. Besides, it would give him some time to spend alone with his daughter.
She'd understood and, after saying goodnight to Lorna, had left. Erik hadn't expected her to take so long, but he knew why she was. Although it wasn't always the case, Genosha generally had hot water. It was becoming clear to him that Susanna and Lorna hadn't been living very well in his absence.
He could understand it. She had been a single mother taking care of a girl who would become hunted. Any money they'd saved had been spent to destroy their records and staying under the radar. For nearly three years she had struggled with the weight of a responsibility she had to shoulder alone, never allowing herself to get too close to anyone.
It had all become clear when he saw the clothes that they had packed. Everything they had wished to take with them was packed into one suitcase. Some things he understood; a few heirlooms from Susanna's parents, a necklace he had once bought her. It had been a silver necklace in the form of a rose, her favorite flower. Even at the time he'd been ashamed of its cheapness, of it being all he could afford, the closest thing to a rose he could give her. He could see his sentimental wife keeping it, and was more touched then he could say that she had done so.
The rest of the suitcase had nearly made him blind with rage. It hadn't been directed at his wife or daughter, but it had been there just the same. All of their clothes were well worn and patched over. It had been all they could afford, he knew that. Still, if they had this little money to spend on clothes then he shuddered to think what they had for food or shelter.
He rubbed his temples. He should have been there for that. Erik should have been taking care of his family. Admittedly they were safer in America then fighting alongside him in Genosha, but the guilt lingered. How could it not? No matter the reason they were his responsibility and he had left them.
They had been his responsibility ever since the day he decided he wanted Susanna's smiling light for himself. It hadn't been love exactly; more a feeling of possession. He'd wanted those smiles and that ability to live her life for himself. So he had sought her and for some unfathomable reason she had been satisfied with the gruff words and embraces of a broken boy.
He hadn't asked her to marry him out of love. He still felt guilty about it, but love hadn't factored into his decision. Erik had been raised with the belief that if you got a girl into trouble you would take the responsibility for it. Seeing her face light up when he had asked her to marry him had been confusing; he hadn't understood it entirely. Erik had finally settled on the idea that she was glad that things were going to be taken care of.
It was only on their wedding day that he saw her become sad over their situation. It started with a vague puzzlement on her face during the ceremony, which descended a worried thoughtfulness. Finally, when he had taken Susanna back to their small house, it had turned to sadness.
He'd been confused until he'd gone into the bedroom that night. Susanna was already lying there, the blankets pulled up under her chin. Her pregnancy was only two months along, so she hadn't begun to show yet. He'd figured it was just her tiredness over the day that had caused her to retire early. She had her back to him and he hadn't thought much of it.
Then she had said the words that changed everything.
"You don't love me."
Erik had stopped, confused.
"I thought you might not," she said softly, "I guess I didn't want to think about it too much…didn't want to dwell on it. But you don't have to lie. You don't love me. You married me because of the baby."
It was true. She pulled her blanket closer around her.
"I love you. I just think you should know that. And...you should know that I don't expect anything back," said Susanna, her voice barely more than a whisper, "I just…I want to know if you think that you might love me. Not today or tomorrow, but one day."
Her voice caught at the end and Erik had swallowed. Such a question deserved a good answer, but he knew lying would only hurt more in the long run.
"I don't know."
A long silence stretched between them.
"Thank you for being honest," she'd said at last.
Feeling like scum he'd left the room. Only once he'd closed the door could he hear the faint sounds of her crying. His loathing of himself had reached a pinnacle and he'd striven to make her happy over the next few months. She would smile, but she seemed to have a sadness rooted in her. After a while it gave way to her usual light, but he knew it was still there.
He knew he could make her happy by telling her that he loved her, yet he didn't know how he felt. It was only when they placed Lorna into his arms that he knew. He'd looked from Susanna to Lorna. He'd been struck by the gift he'd been given then; the gift of the child in his arms, the gift of love from a girl who knew he didn't love her back.
Suddenly he'd understood and his chest had tightened. He'd turned to Susanna and whispered;
"I love you."
Her face had changed and she'd begun crying. After that he'd striven to be a family with her, because that had been her gift. He'd taken care of them because he loved them and wanted them to be happy. It was just another gift that she had given him; the gift of knowing what it meant to love someone again.
The door to the bathroom opened and she came in, her hair slightly damp. He'd called for new clothes for them immediately, and she was wearing a silk dressing gown. He got up and touched her face. She met his hand, grasping it. Erik noticed how calloused her hands were and held them tighter.
"Lorna asleep?" she asked.
"Safe and sound," he said.
She smiled, something his soul had been aching for. He reached out with his other hand and pulled her to his chest.
"There's something I want to show you," he said.
Susanna tilted her head and he led her to the balcony. Below them stretched the gardens, barely lit by the lights from the palace. She stopped and he pointed downwards, resting his chin on the top of her head. She looked down and her lips parted in surprise.
"You...you remembered," Susanna whispered.
He nodded and glanced down at the roses. He'd had every variety he could planted there.
"I had hoped that I would see you again," he said, "I had always wanted to give you roses."
Susanna smiled again, her hand clenching his tightly.
"I love you," Erik said.
In his arms she shuddered, turning away from the garden and grasping the front of his shirt tightly. She was crying. Gently he pulled up her face to kiss away her tears. There would be no more of that. Not anymore.