"What we want is a small strike team to avoid a scene," said Erik, "The last thing we need is the Japanese authorities getting involved."
"Finally wary of causing a scene?" Charles joked.
The look he got in return made his follow-up joke die on his tongue. Erik had been irritable when he'd come in to discuss what he'd discovered about the Yashida Corporation, but that was nothing new. There had been many mornings when his friend had come in with an added tension in his shoulders. It was usually fleeting.
This wasn't.
"How many do you suggest?" asked Charles.
"Four maximum," said Erik, "Obviously I'd put myself on the team. I might raise some international flags on the plane, but I've been pretty good avoiding that so far. Mystique's mutation will be useful, and Logan will gut us if we don't let him go. The man's as subtle as a train wreck, but we might need to wreck trains at one point."
"I can charter a private plane, and we can use Cerebro to make sure no one raises any inconvenient questions at customs," Charles said, "Hank said it's ready for long-term use again. However, I assume the fourth will be Peter."
Erik didn't say anything, just crossed his arms.
"His gift would be useful in a stealth mission," said Charles, his words slowing as he watched his friend, "No one would be able to see him, or catch him for that matter."
"He's too reckless," Erik said, "The power is useful, but there are others with greater responsibility with similar powers. I'd thought of asking to take Kurt instead."
Charles stared at him.
"You're joking, aren't you?" he asked.
"I hear he's healed up," Erik said.
"To the point where he can be left unattended, walk and possibly teleport," said Charles, "But he hasn't been doing any strenuous exercises for five months! Hank's not going to clear him for a trip to Japan, and I'm certainly not going to either."
"Because he's your nephew?" asked Erik.
The tone used was enough to put a dent in even his good mood, buoyed by his son's successful birthday.
"In part, yes," said Charles, "But he's also not fit to be doing field work."
"Should we ask Hank?"
"He'd agree," Charles said, "And I'm not calling him. He's already told me he and Moira are running late, and I won't have him being distracted in the car."
Erik snorted, but Charles plowed on.
"Besides, I'd love to see you suggest this idea to my sister," he said, "Because I think she'd be very far from amused. Besides, Peter and Kurt's gifts aren't exactly the same. Peter is good at infiltrating secure facilities, and he has the most experience doing so outside of everyone we've already mentioned."
The look on his friend's face was rapidly growing more sour.
"Erik, what's wrong?" he said, "I thought you and Peter were getting on well."
His friend clenched one fist, his eyes focused on the wall.
"He's...been indulging in some loose talk," he said at last.
Charles raised his eyebrows.
"Meaning?" he asked.
"He's commenting on things he has no business meddling with," snapped Erik.
His family. Peter had talked about his family. It was the only thing Charles could think of that would turn Erik against someone this quick. Peter, no doubt, felt some sort of right to comment on people who were, in a way, family. However, since Erik was angry about the event, rather than worried or shocked, Peter hadn't divulged who he was.
That needed to change. Perhaps, now that things were more settled with everyone else, Charles needed to sit down and have a talk with Peter. No one's affaris were perfect, but they were all in a place where he could rest easy. It would probably have to be before he went on this mission with Erik, because he wasn't about to let Kurt go. Not with a stomach that was still healing.
"Erik, please understand," Charles tried, "He's young. I don't know what he said, but please keep in mind, he says things as he sees them-"
"He doesn't know anything!" Erik snapped.
There was a knock on the door, and Charles rubbed his head. It opened before he could ask them to wait though, and Moira and Hank stood in the doorway. Hank had turned to look at Erik, but Moira was looking at him, her face strangely blank.
Love, I'm glad you're back, he said, But I just need five minutes. Erik and I have to-
"We need to talk," she said.
Charles stared at her, but Erik gave a terse nod.
Moira, I just need
"The brat's on the team if you insist," he said, "But it's a mistake."
He pushed his way out of the doorway, moving Hank out of the way with his shoulder, but not going near Moira. Hank gave him a frustrated look, and Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. While he hadn't expected their discussion with Peter to go well, he'd hoped it would be longer, maybe plant the seed for something positive.
"I'm sorry about that," Charles said at last, "But I really did just need five more minutes. I-"
A cool hand touched his. He opened his eyes and saw that Moira had sat down in a nearby chair, taking his hands in hers. She took a deep breath as Hank closed the door, and all thoughts of Erik and his son fled.
Charles looked between the two of them, his face and expression a picture of shocked misery and disbelief.
"They called it pre-eclampsia," Moira said.
It wasn't an explanation, not a good one, but it was all she could manage. The words, she knew, didn't mean anything to Charles. At the same time, he was taking in her tone, her expression as she explained where she'd been this afternoon. She looked down at her hands.
"In the past it's also been referred to as toxemia," said Hank,"It's a...it's not uncommon, but the problem is...they think Moira's a little far along."
His voice was scholarly, but quiet. She saw Charles look at him strangely, his expression sliding further and further away from disbelief.
"No seizures, which is very good," Hank said, "But the baby isn't quite where they would feel comfortable delivering it, which is how this is normally resolved. This has to result in an early delivery though so she doesn't become eclamptic."
"Meaning?" asked Charles.
Hank breathed out slowly.
"If she becomes eclamptic, and it goes untreated, they...they both die," he said.
The look in Charles's eyes was devastating. His hands wrapped around her fingers, clutched them together so tightly. She could see his worry, worry for her, for the baby, a little soul he'd already talked with.
She forced herself to smile, to reassure him, but her throat was sandpaper and her heart was splintering. Her flippant attitude in the car ride to the hospital was gall in her memory. Even being told she had good chances, that they would just need to be very careful, was a gnawing worry.
"They want me to go in for 24-hour observation," she said, "As soon as I'm done getting my things I go back, and that took some convincing."
"That long?" Charles said.
Hank moved forward slightly, perhaps to save her from explaining. She looked at him gratefully, but Charles was already shaking his head, his eyes sad with understanding.
"No, no, of course," Charles said, "That…yes, that's safe. That's good. They'll be there if anything happens, yes."
He swallowed, his fingers starting to move over her hands. Usually his rubbing motions were be soft and smooth, comforting. This time they were disjointed and jerky, like the way her heart was beating and fluttering against her rib cage.
"Until the baby's born," she said.
The motions stopped. He looked at her, his blue eyes desperate.
"It'll be…you…you'll be in danger for that long?" he asked.
"Until the baby's born," Moira repeated.
She swallowed. It was like swallowing rocks.
"They said that it'll be a few weeks more," she said, "There's, well, I, they said they would want to deliver the baby immediately if they could. But...as long as I'm under observation, they want to wait a little longer. Gives the baby…"
The words died. He let go of her hands, instead cupping her face. Charles's hands were cold and clammy. Moira reached up, holding his hands in hers.
"…it gives the baby a better chance," she finished.
Silence hung heavy in the room. Charles continued to look into her eyes, holding her there, and his hands warmed as they touched her cheeks. She swallowed again, still a difficult motion, but one that she could just about manage.
"Then you have to go," said Charles, "We'll…we'll have to be clever, we'll have to be smart, but you need to be where they can take care of you."
Because I can't. The words were unspoken, even in her head, but she could see them in every line on his face. She let go of his hands, touched his face instead. He looked at her fingers, swollen slightly from her pregnancy.
Slowly, Charles turned and kissed her fingers. When he turned back, she could see his despair recede back into a desperate determination.
"You'll need to stay there," he said, "You'll need to stay there for as long as you need to until the baby's born in the safest way possible. And I'll be there, I'll…"
The hands on her face tightened slightly. She could see worry come back to his face, as well as a deep frustration. Moira curled her fingers together, already feeling something flutter deep within herself. It was almost like fear, but more physical. She didn't know if it was the baby, or her own feelings.
Because she knew, even before he spoke, what he was going to say. She might not know the particulars, but she knew what that look meant.
"There's a mission Erik's leading," he murmured, "To Japan. We think Essex is going to be there, or at least a large chunk of his operations."
"You're going to Japan," she said.
Her voice came out flat. Immediately she felt guilty, because she had tried to be calm, understanding. Instead, whatever he heard in her voice made him grip her face tighter, although not to the point of pain.
"No love, I'm not," he said, "And I would certainly never leave the country with what you told me. It's just…I'll be needed as a link to Westchester."
"You'll need to be in Cerebro," she said.
This time, her voice came out much calmer.
"I…I also need to be with you," he said, "You and our baby. You can't go to the hospital alone, not so far away without anyone. I don't know how closely Essex is watching us, and I don't know for sure he's in Japan.
And he wants our baby. Again, the words were unspoken, but they didn't need to be. She drew herself up, the numbness she'd felt since hearing the news receding. Yes, she needed Charles with her. But Essex and Stryker wouldn't be taking a break just because of the situation. They wouldn't be quitting because she wanted her husband near her during her birth.
But the bottom line was that she needed the medical attention, and Charles needed to be where there was easy access to Cerebro, not an hour away at the hospital. She also wasn't sure if Kevin would be allowed to stay with her in the hospital because of his age.
Moira had no idea how much pain Kevin would experience when he heard the news. He was excited about being an older brother. Hearing that he might lose that brother and quite possibly his mother too after everything he'd already gone through could be devastating. He would need Charles to be his rock while she was stuck in the hospital.
"I can go with her," Hank said.
They both turned their heads slightly. Hank had taken off his glasses, awkwardly polishing them as he stared at the floor.
"I'm one of the senior team members," he said, "I'm not a gynecologist, but I know enough medical terminology to make sure Essex doesn't try and embed anyone if he finds out what's going on. I can ask the right questions, and I can get her out if need be."
He put his glasses on, but continued to stare at the floor. It was, she realized, an attempt to give them some privacy.
"My presence won't be missed by those not in the know at the school," he said, "I have a preexisting condition, remember? No one will really remark if I go to teh hospital. Do what you need to do Charles, and I'll take care of things until you can take my place."
Charles turned from Hank and looked at her, his eyes full of desperate pleading. She swallowed, this time a little easier, and then nodded.
"You stay here Charles," she said, "Come and visit me when you can, but be where you need to be for the missions. Keep our world safe, and take care of Kevin."
She leaned in and kissed him softly on his lips.
"I'll take care of the baby," she said.