August 7, 1992

Kurt teleported himself and David into the hall outside of the med-bay's doors. His brother's eyes were wide and Kurt could tell that his hands were shaking. He ran a hand over his hair and looked up at Kurt.

David looked so uncertain, more so than Kurt had ever seen him. He didn't look as though he had gotten much rest from persistent dark circles under his eyes. Then again, he had been talking to Sharon when Kurt had come in.

It didn't really look like they had been talking though. David had stared resolutely forward and Sharon had just kept blinking. Kurt filed it away. He'd ask his brother about it later, when there wasn't so much going on.

He'd also have to ask about the cut on the forehead.

"Mom told Jean that we could come in," Kurt said.

David smiled, but even that expression was uncertain. Kurt wished that he could do something to make him feel better, but he had no idea what to say. What did you say when you knew that your brother'd had conflicting feelings towards your father for ten years?

When David had first told him just what the voices in his head had done to his life, Kurt hadn't known how to respond. The only thing he could do was offer up a silent prayer that everything would be alright, and it was the only thing he could really do now. His prayers about their father's healing had already been answered. Kurt knew that not all prayers were answered, but it never hurt to ask and have faith.

He patted his brother on the shoulder. David nodded and took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the doors in front of them. Together they walked into the med-bay, the doors opening automatically for them.

His father was sitting up, his hand entwined with his mother's and the two of them talking in hushed whispers. Both of them looked at them when they entered. His father smiled gently and Kurt hurried to his side.

He knew immediately that David hadn't followed him. Kurt tried not to make a big deal of it, hoping that his father wouldn't notice if he didn't call attention to it. From the hurt in his father's eyes though, he could tell that he had.

Kurt wanted to shout at David to hurry up. He didn't know why his brother was hanging back, not when he'd been so worried. His calm exterior during the whole thing might have fooled anyone who hadn't grown up with him: Kurt knew exactly what David looked like when he was worried.

David's reactions to situations had always confused Kurt a little bit. He'd admired his ability to keep cool under any circumstances, but this was much more than that. Right now he was keeping himself distanced, as though he was an outsider at his own father's sickbed. Kurt hoped that his brother wasn't going to avoid being near their father just because he was awake.

His father was looking at him though, and Kurt had to say something.

"We were really worried about you," Kurt said.

His father smiled.

"There's no need," he said.

"You always say that, but you were out for a couple of days," his mother said, "I'd say that there was quite the need to be worried."

His father just shook his head slightly. Kurt cleared his throat.

"Jean said you were poisoned," Kurt said, "Something about Cerebro?"

"Poisoned might not be the right word for it, but I suppose that it's close enough," his father said.

"How would they get the access codes though?" David said.

Kurt inclined his head towards him, glad that his brother had finally spoken. It wasn't what he wanted: David's voice was clinical and slightly detached. He wasn't meeting anyone's eyes. It was a start though.

"I mean, I was under the impression that Jean and Hank installed retinal scanners into Cerebro a few years ago," David said.

His father looked uncomfortable, his eyes flitting around as he searched for words. Next to him Kurt's mother's mouth hardened into a thin line.

"We'll have to look into that later," his father said at last.

"Much later," his mother said, her voice sharp, "You need to rest right now."

His father sighed and gripped her hand tighter.

"I'm fine," he said.

He turned his head to Kurt and David.

"I am curious how the two of you got here so quickly though," he said, "I believe that you were in Boston the night that...Cerebro malfunctioned."

Kurt smiled, knowing that his relief was pouring off him in waves. He glanced back over at David, who still wasn't meeting anyone's eyes. From what little Kurt could see, he looked torn. Kurt swallowed. It was time he took charge of the situation.

"We were. It was about midnight when David called the Institute, and Scott told him what had happened," Kurt said.

"You called the Institute?" his father said, looking at David.

Kurt wondered why his brother had called the Institute too: it should have been the other way around in an emergency situation. David hadn't elaborated, and at the time Kurt had been too concerned with what David had found out from the call to bother himself with how the call had originated.

"Yes," David said.

He didn't elaborate though, his eyes flitting around. Kurt decided to take control of the conversation.

"You should've seen David," Kurt said, "As soon as he heard he made sure that he got to me and had me teleport everyone down here."

His father looked directly at David. Kurt felt his breath catch in his throat.

"You were always good in a crisis," his father said, his voice soft.

David ducked his head even further down.

"Thank you," he said.

Kurt's mother squeezed his father's hand before getting up. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. Kurt only then noticed that she'd been crying, the dark circles somehow deeper under her eyes. He wondered how long she had stayed by their father's side, talking to him as he slept, watching him like a hawk for any signs of improvement.

She walked over and put her hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Come on," she said, "You don't look like you got much sleep. We don't want you dead on your feet over the next few days."

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but then his mother's eyes flickered over to David. Understanding dawned and he nodded. Kurt yawned too, hoping that it didn't sound too fake. His father laughed softly.

"You didn't need to stay up," he said, "None of you did."

"Charles, they're both our children. That means that they have quite a bit of me in them," his mother said, "Which, of course, means that they worry about you more than you do."

She inclined her head and smiled.

"Don't forget that," she said.

His mother smiled once more before steering Kurt out of the room. The doors opened for them and closed immediately behind them. His mother let go of his shoulder and put a hand to her forehead.

"Do you need me to teleport you to your room?" he asked, "You don't look so soon."

"That would probably be smart," she said.

She sighed and gestured to the room.

"Sorry for taking you out of there so quickly," she said, "But I think those two need to talk. I think that they've needed to talk for ten years."

His mother smiled.

"From David's expression, I think that he might be finally ready," she said.

"I hope so," Kurt said.

He tightened his grip on his mother's shoulder and, in a flash of black smoke, they two of them were gone.


David swallowed and looked at his father. The two of them stood in silence for a time and David could feel sweat gathering on his palms. He'd hoped that he would have this chance to talk to his father, but now that it had come he wasn't sure that he had the right words.

He was scared, more scared than he'd been for years. He raised his eyes to meet his father, his tongue feeling like lead.

"Father..." he said.

His father smiled at him, a smile that David knew well. It was the smile that his father gave when he tried to reassure someone that everything was going to be alright. David took his hands out of his pockets and took a seat by his bedside.

"Father, I called the Institute because I wanted to talk to you," he said.

"What about?" his father asked.

David looked down before looking back up again. He'd almost missed his chance to tell him everything that he'd been feeling, things he should have said years ago. There was no reason not to say any of it now.

"About everything," David said.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I know that...in the past few years...I haven't exactly been a model son-" he began.

"David, stop."

David started. His father was still smiling at him gently, but his eyes told a different story. There was hurt there, much more than David had expected. There was something else though, something that seemed strange to find in his father's eyes.

It was compassion. There was no sympathy or pity, only a strange amount of empathy. Somehow or another, his father seemed as though he understood. David stared, transfixed, as his father began to speak.

"David, life hasn't been easy for you," he said.

"It's no excuse-" David began.

"Please," his father said, holding up a hand.

He gave him a wry smile.

"You're not the only one who has things that they need to say."

David fell silent.

"I know that we haven't always seen eye to eye," his father said, "And I know that some decisions that I've made have hurt you in the past."

His father sighed. David knew he was thinking about the day that his father denied him entrance to the X-men, the day that David had run from his office, his vague anger and resentment towards his father solidifying into something that lasted for years.

"And I won't say that those have been perfect decisions," his father said, "Lord knows I've made mistakes. But...David...everything I've done...I've only tried to protect you. That's all I've ever wanted to do."

"And I know that now," David said, "I wanted to tell you that."

His father leaned back.

"David, I know that some things that I've done...you'll never quite agree with," he said, "I know that you've felt that I've held you back, but I was just worried about you. That's all it's ever been. It's had nothing to do with anything that you had done."

Only your defects, a voice in David's head chuckled.

David slammed back on the voice, hitting it as hard and far as he could.

"Because I know that you're capable, that you're strong," his father said, "And I will always be proud to have you as my son."

Tears built up in David's eyes and he wiped them away.

"All this time you've tried to take care of me and all I did was push you away," David said, "I-"

"David," his father said, "Please don't apologize to me. There's no need."

His father reached out and touched David's shoulder. David wanted to tell him that, yes, there was a need for him to apologize. However, he was too scared to press he issue, too happy to hear that his father was willing to move on. So he locked the words inside of him.

David leaned forward and hugged his father. His father hugged him back, and the two sat in silence.