When the truck finally did stop it did so suddenly, causing her to jolt forwards. Moira nearly cut her lip and she pulled away from the wall, angry and disgusted. She was going to be used as bait, like some princess in a fairytale. Somehow it seemed insulting that they would dare think of her in that fashion.

She expected to be jerked out of her prison soon. Instead all she heard were muted voices and someone getting out. Then the door slammed and the truck started up again. Worry prickled her mind. They were trying to make sure that they could be found. And why shouldn't they? If Charles didn't see her die then Cain wouldn't have his revenge.

Moira took a deep breath. The thought of Charles watching her death was a terrible one. If Cain decided to kill him first then she'd have to watch. She quelled her own fears and tried to remain calm. It was the only part of the training that really applied to her anymore. They had never taught her what to do if she was kidnapped by super-powered mutants with fraternal problems.

Shaking her head she leaned against the cold metal. Charles had led a revolution. He wouldn't be caught up in a trap. She knew his feelings for her may blind him somewhat, but not enough to make him fall for it. He'd have some sort of back-up plan. Charles was always planning, always looking towards the future.

When he came she'd have to find out some way to help. Her mind set to working the probabilities and trying for the millionth time to slip her hands out of the cuffs. They didn't have much give, but there was some there. Moira could work that in a pinch. No matter what, she would have to be ready.

"Now this is insulting."

Charles stared down at what had been left in the snow. It was slightly buried underneath snowflakes, but it had been elevated to where he could plainly see it. Logan picked it up like it was something filthy, an abomination of some sort. In a way he was right. The rest of them were out too, brought by Logan's shout of frustration at seeing it.

Raven looked on with wide eyes and Neena shook her head. Janos simply seemed dismayed. Clarice stood behind him, her hands in her pockets and glaring at it.

"He left us a goddamned map," snarled Logan, "Laminated. He even circled where they're going."

There was a chorus of angry murmurs. Logan sniffed the map before turning it over. He let out another disgusted cry. Charles looked over his shoulder at the thick black letters, mocking in their size and audacity. 'COME ALONE CHARLES.' It had been no less than he expected, but somewhere inside him his spirit fell a little more.

"What the hell kind of guy is this?" Logan snapped.

"My stepbrother."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He didn't really much care though, not even when they turned and stared at him.

"Your what?" demanded Clarice.

"You heard me," Charles said flatly, "My stepfather sent him after us when we ran away from Westchester. He found us when we were in New York City."

"Why didn't you kill him then?" snapped Logan.

He looked up at Logan and thought about the question. Raven was there too, so he knew he had to come up with an answer that wasn't just about the sanctity of life. Everyone with him believed that unnecessary killing was wrong. However, they had been fighting for years. They understood strategic kills.

Even he did, although he didn't like them. He suspected that they didn't much either, but it was besides the point. Perhaps when they were younger they would have done the same thing. However, there was an unspoken rule among the X-men; people who took mutants from their homes and brought them in for experimentation had to die. The deaths would be quick, but they were too dangerous to let live.

It was a much harsher world than the one Charles had lived in when he was a child. Something about that struck him as being terribly unfair. Yet, he realized it was the way of the world. It hadn't become crueler; children were just less observant of their surroundings unless those observations were forced on them.

However, he remembered how he'd felt looking at the form of his stepbrother on the ground before him. There had never been any fondness there, no brotherly love. Charles had still felt like he couldn't kill him. How could he have looked himself in the mirror after that if he did something like that?

Even so Cain had gone on to become terrible. If one could see the future though no one would ever make any mistakes. Had it been better to err on the side of mercy? Charles couldn't say it one way or the other. Philosophy might have been his strong point, but on the road up to his knees in snow, chasing a maniac who held Moira captive, he felt it drifting away.

He became aware again of the questioning eyes on him.

"I've asked myself that ever since I saw his picture with the others," Charles said slowly, "And I suppose the answer was that I saw myself as better than that. I thought I'd neutralized him effectively that day."

"Damn wrong," Logan snarled.

The steel inside his veins dissipated and he felt the cold rush in. He didn't need Logan to tell him that.

"You're right," he snapped, "I was wrong. And now the woman I love is paying for it; possibly with her life. So could you please be quiet for a moment?"

His voice became slightly hysterical by the end. Charles turned away from the shocked looks of his peers. He'd certainly told them more information than they had expected that night. His own fears were reaching a fever pitch. This was his fault. There was no other way to think about it. If Moira was hurt, it was because of him.

Admittedly the person Cain worked for might have assigned the hit. Even so if it was anyone else her death would have been quick. He knew that Cain would want to draw it out, make it as painful as possible. The thought of that being his fault was nearly more than he could stomach. For a moment he felt the ground crumbling under his feet.

A hand slipped into his. He looked up and saw Raven's yellow eyes looking at him with a profound sympathy. Tentatively Charles squeezed her hand. She inclined her head towards the rest of the group. He looked and saw that they were all looking at him with a degree of sympathy over their shock. They knew what it was like to lose loved ones, to make the difficult choices. And there was no condemnation, only asking for instructions.

Charles took a shuddering breath and felt the steel reenter his veins. It was no time to fall apart. If anything was going to get done it would have to be led by him. These people didn't know Cain, and Cain would have surely brought his allies from his team with him. They were in for a fight, and he had always coordinated those.

He straightened his back.

"He wants me to come in alone," Charles said, "That means he believes he can block my telepathy. He's always been afraid of it."

"They won't have one of the generators like the one at Genosha," Clarice said, looking grateful for an opportunity to change the conversation, "That thing took up too many rooms. And they wouldn't risk inhibiting their own powers."

"So what's he got?" asked Neena.

Despite the poor weather he felt like he were around a table, looking down at the plans for a new battle.

"In all the pictures he had a helmet," Charles said thoughtfully, "I don't know of any metal that could block me, but it's worth a shot."

"Even if it isn't you're going to have to get that thing off," Logan grunted, "It's too big and unwieldy. Think it was Summers who said he was built like a brick shithouse. Seems to be an apt term."

"And we know he's strong," said Charles, "We don't know too much about his companions."

"We know a little," Janos said, "I think Neena can take care of the one with the guns."

"Yes," said Neena firmly, "I can."

"And I can get sword boy," said Clarice, "At least for a while. I haven't seen him in combat. Wish Azazel were here."

"Means we're out of luck on the teleporter though," observed Janos, "Not sure how Logan would do there; I've sparred with Azazel enough times to know that strength is pretty useless against them. I'll see what I can do without blowing the rest of you off course."

"Which leaves me to get the helmet off the shithouse," said Logan.

"I'll be helping you," Charles said, "Not sure how much I would be able to do against that level of raw power, but I'll be in there too. If my attacks can affect him then I'll be able to bring him down. I've done it once before."

"Only one question is how we're going to get in there without anything happening to MacTaggert," Neena said.

Charles furrowed his brow.

"Obviously I'll have to go in by myself," he said, "We can figure something out from there but-"

"They'll kill her too fast," Logan said, "Or you. Or both. We need to be in there, and we can't have you being a target from the beginning. Telepathy's too important here an' we can't have 'em knowing what to expect from the start. An ambush ain't gonna work either."

"I could just teleport you out," Clarice said, "But then you'd have to deposit her and move back into the fight. I don't have a great range either."

"Um, can I say something?"

They turned to Raven whose hand was half-raised. She blushed under their stares but rallied and said;

"I've got an idea. You might not like it Charles, but it'll work."

He looked down at her hand, still in his. He couldn't allow her to be involved in the fighting. He'd worked too hard to keep her out of it in the past few years to fail.

"Charles," she said quietly, "I'm not trying to prove anything. I just…I just want to help."

Sighing deeply he looked up at her.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Out."

Moira gave Cain a disbelieving look. She was chained, how did he expect her to move? With a grunt of frustration he grabbed her arms with one hand and the chain with another. Tugging sharply the chains broke and the manacles snapped off. There was little chance of escape though as immediately afterwards he dragged her into the cold. Her wrists were bruising under his grip as well as the rest of her.

"You really think they're gonna be here soon?" Wade said, blowing another bubble.

"Positive," snapped Cain, "just get ready."

"And you think he's going to come alone?" the man in the cowboy hat asked.

Cain jerked her in front of him, holding her by her arms. She glared in disgust around her, trying to ignore that she couldn't feel her feet anymore.

"We've got her," Cain said, "He'll come."

He pushed her forwards, sending her face first into the snow. She managed to land in a way that didn't aggravate her injuries, but her skin burned with the cold of the snow. Moira pushed herself up and glared at Cain. He gave her another sickening smile and then jerked his head upwards. The entire clearing was still as a branch cracked.

Reaching out Cain pulled her back to her feet. Wade drew his swords and another man took out his guns. The man in the cowboy hat merely shifted from one foot to another. Moira took this all in as Cain wrapped one arm around her neck. From his earlier display Moira knew that he needed only to increase the pressure to break her neck.

She struggled at first, but he grabbed a handful of her hair. Leaning down he whispered into her ear;

"You will not ruin this for me. I can always pretend you're alive when he comes you know."

Moira swallowed and allowed herself to go limp with his arm around her throat. Her mind was furious even for this acquiescence, but all her defiance would buy her at this point would be death. Her senses were dulled from the cold and the pain in her limbs, making her see double and leaving her feeling week.

Footsteps approached. Charles stepped into the clearing, his face composed and his hands in his pockets. His eyes moved over all of them before settling on Cain. He couldn't actually be doing this. Still looking ahead Charles shifted his feet. It almost made her frown; it wasn't like him to do that. Moira brushed it aside. Whatever happened next, she had to be ready.

"So glad you could make it," Cain said, "Come closer."

"I can't say the same," Charles replied, "And let go of her first."

Cain shrugged and shoved Moira into the snow. Once more she felt the stinging crystals all around her body. She looked up as Charles approached. He knelt down next to her, his expression concentrated. Moira squinted her eyes in confusion. Something was wrong, although she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

He smirked at her and she felt like he was congratulating her in some way. The image of something being wrong was only solidified when he grabbed her wrist. He never touched her.

"Alright," Cain said, "Get up."

"You know Cain?" Charles asked conversationally, "You always were the dumbest shit I ever came across."

Charles' skin rippled, turning a deep blue. His blue eyes became yellow, and his hair lengthened and became red. Wade let out a low whistle. Moira stared at Raven for several seconds before a pink crystal flew at them. The next thing she knew she was several feet away from the clearing, and bullets were flying.

A/N: Only two more chapters to go.