A/N: I had someone ask me in a comment about a conversation between Charles and Raven about Jean in "On a Beach in Cuba." They had their private messaging turned off, but I was referring to what happened in Cairo. Raven would've seen Jean had tremendous power, but she didn't use it in her daily life. I think that would've been confusing to her.
Hank leaned against the vending machine and rubbed the back of his neck. When he'd left, they'd said it wouldn't be too much longer. He knew there wouldn't be much time to see the child because, even though this was planned, the baby was being born around a month early. They'd need to go into the proper room, have their temperature and weight taken.
They'd want to whisk the baby away as soon as possible, all things considered. He couldn't blame them for that, the most important thing was the child's health. At the same time, Charles and Kevin would get priority. He didn't think even Kurt and Raven would be able to hold the baby tonight.
He'd been a little surprised to see her arrive in the hall, but she'd explained Peter had found out where they'd gone from another one of their teachers. Hank had given Raven his seat, explaining he needed to get a soda. Honestly though, she would be the baby's aunt. She would get preferential treatment. That was the way this worked.
"Are you alright Hank?"
He turned his head, not at all surprised to see Carly standing there. She had a wonderful habit of finding him, even when he didn't know he wanted to be found. He smiled at her, then looked curiously up at the clock.
"Shouldn't you be off shift?" he asked, "Putting your feet up, something like that?"
"Hank, I live here," she said, "It's not much of a stretch for me to come a few halls down."
Hank looked at her for a moment longer, debating on whether or not he should call her out. Her apartment, as he understood it, was on the other side of the hospital. The place she clocked out at was even further than that. Coming back up here would have been a forty, almost fifty minute round trip.
It was a nice thought that she'd come all that way just for him, one he doubted was true.
"How's Moira?" asked Carly.
"Good," Hank said, "She's…I mean, she's still out, but they told us it'd be over soon."
"You should be down there," said Carly, "I'm sure she'd want you there."
Hank managed a smile.
"There won't be much time after the baby's born," he said, "She'll want that time to go to her husband and son."
"After maybe? You were the one who helped her while she was at the hospital," said Carly.
"After, definitely," Hank said.
He leaned against the wall. Carly's hands started to move over each other as they rested on her cane.
"I wanted to um, well, all things considered, I thought maybe, um, well," she said.
He frowned and Carly swallowed.
"Given that tonight or tomorrow night's probably your last night at the hospital, I just, well," she said, "I wanted to make sure you got a proper goodbye."
For a moment, Hank had no idea what she was talking about. It hit him like a tidal wave: after the baby was born, there would be no reason for him to be at the hospital. He should've started packing the moment Charles told him Essex was taken care of. He'd only been there as a protector, someone to help in case something happened.
Carly reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear. Her tongue darted out, whetting her lips.
"It's been nice having you here for the past few weeks," she said, "I just…long shifts seemed a little less lonely. I'm going to…I'm going to miss our talks."
Hank swallowed, wondering where his tongue was. He wanted to tell her he was going to miss more than their talks. Hank would miss the way her hair fell over her shoulders when she cocked her head or how her entire face changed when she smiled.
"And…I'm just sad I won't see you after tomorrow," she said.
"Who says you won't see me?" asked Hank.
She looked up, her lips parting in surprise. He swallowed again, his hands and forehead sweating, stomach fluttering. It was now or never and he knew that, if he was left to his own devices, he'd pick never.
But he'd taken those steps toward her, ignoring the urge to run down the hallway. He'd known it was scary, he'd never been good at things like this, but he'd seen no reason not to then. Hank still didn't see any reason not to that wasn't based in cowardice.
So he stepped forward.
"I mean, after this," he said, "I thought, maybe, well, maybe Monday, round six, I could come back. There's this nice restaurant in town and I thought you might want to…"
His voice sounded thin and reedy in his ears, but he'd gone too far to back out.
"…thought maybe you might like to go with me," he said.
She breathed in slowly, and one of her hands reached out. It rested on his shoulder, and it felt like her fingertips were radiating spirals of pins and needles. She looked down at his shoes, and Hank closed his eyes.
"I would love to."
Her voice was quiet, shy. He opened his eyes and saw Carly biting her lip.
"I…that…that's really great," he said, "I um, I'm really, yeah. I'll be here at six and we can, I don't know, whatever we want. I'll knock or intercom or-"
"I'll know it's you," said Carly.
He laughed, more nervous and joyful than anything.
"You'll have to tell me how you do that someday," he said.
Her fingertips left his shoulder and, lightly, touched his lips. Any hopes he'd had of coherent thought disappeared.
"Honestly?" she breathed, "It's…it's your aftershave."
"My…?" he said.
He wanted to ask more, but her fingertips were still on his lips. They weren't silencing him, but the sensation was so heady he barely wanted to breathe.
"I like it," she said.
She hesitated a moment, then removed her fingertips. Hank wanted to sigh, to bring them back just to feel her skin on his. But then he saw that she was leaning in uncertainly, her lips drawing in and then flattening, and Hank realized what she wanted to do.
Barely thinking, he leaned his head down and closed the distance between the two of them. Her lips were soft, hesitant but, at the same time, welcoming. It had been so long since he'd done this, and he knew he'd probably never done it right. He wanted to do it right so much for her.
Carly breathed again, her lips parting slightly as she moved to his bottom lip. He stifled a sigh, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head. Between the softness of her hair, lips, warmth of brightness of her skin, the rushing of his blood, it felt like a sensory overload.
Intoxicated, he tilted his head so their foreheads touched. Her breath was still so soft, but so very warm on his face.
"Six?" she asked timidly.
"Six," he agreed, "I…I won't be late."
She smiled.
"I know."
Everything in Moira's mind felt hazy. Colors swirled, smoothed and warmed in her eye. So much was going on around her, but the activity in the back of the room made her want to take a look. The baby, her baby was wailing at the top of his new lungs. She wanted to take him into her arms, to tell him that everything was okay now.
However, the ache in her abdomen stopped her. She bit her lip, trying to calm down, to move past the heaviness and overwhelming warmth. She hazarded a peek down, saw the line of stitches travelling across her stomach. Moira pulled down her hospital gown to cover it, trying not to think about the surgery that had gone into creating those stitches.
The wailing continued. Moira tried to remember if Kevin had cried and screamed this much. She didn't think so, but nine years had created such a barrier. A nurse next to her clutched the side of her head. So she wasn't just imagining the volume.
Suddenly, the warmth in her head grew stronger. Something almost sharp hit her head: a headache? Everything was so fluid that she barely knew. She felt love then and, still hazy, she leaned into it, smiling. Joy bubbled up in her head, flowing through her. Moira felt herself relaxing, leaning further into the bed's pillows.
The screaming stopped, turning into excited coos. A nurse was walking toward her, holding something in a soft yellow blanket. Moira reached out, accepting the precious bundle into her arms.
"It's a boy," the nurse said, "Congratulations."
She looked down, and saw a face wrinkled and red from screaming. Small fists were clenched by his head, twisting as he wriggled. He was tiny, much tinier than Kevin. Her first son, however, had been born right on time. Her child now had been born early, still a few weeks from reaching his appropriate height and weight.
He looked up at her, and she saw her husband's beautiful blue eyes. Moira smiled and leaned forward, kissing him with trembling lips.
"I think it's time for him to meet his father and brother," she said.
The nurse walked off, and Moira traced her son's face with a finger. She moved her head down.
"Hello," she whispered, "You'll never believe the life we've got waiting for you. It's going to be wonderful."
The door opened and Charles pushed himself in, his eyes wide. Kevin trailed after him, focused on her. Moira straightened up, propping her son up in her arms.
"Come and meet your little brother Kevin," she said.
Kevin moved forward, his eyes wide. He looked at the baby in Moira's arms, and the baby blinked back.
"He's wrinkly," Kevin said, "Like a walrus."
Moira laughed, and Kevin flushed.
"I'm not saying he's ugly," he stammered, "I'm not complaining. I like him. I think-"
"I know," Moira said, putting a hand on his head fondly, "All babies look like this right after they're born though. You did too, more or less."
Looking relieved, Kevin nodded thoughtfully, resting his arms and head on the edge of her bed. Charles moved closer, his face pulled down and away. This was his first and, in all likelihood, last, birth. His eyes continued to look between her and their new son.
She took her hand away from Kevin's head, reaching out to her husband. He took her hand, moving closer.
"My love…you…you…he's so…he's beautiful," he murmured.
Moira smiled and shifted him.
"Would you like to hold him?" she asked.
Charles nodded mutely and, slowly, she handed him the newest addition to their family. The baby felt so small, so light, but she felt the loss of his warmth almost immediately.
Her husband took him securely in his arms, gazing down as though entranced. For a man who had seen teenagers fly and sparkle like diamond, a man who could find any mutant in the world, had helped save the future, she knew, in that moment, he'd never seen anything more amazing than their son.
She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Do you still like the name David?" she asked.
"Yes," Charles said hoarsely, "Yes, very much. He...he looks like a David."
Moira smiled, her hand gripping Charles's elbow. One of his hands reached around her, his fingers touching her temples.
Moira, Kevin, he said, I think it's time for something else now.
She closed her eyes and smiled. For a moment, there was nothing.
Little one? Charles said, We're here now.
A small feeling of excitement filled her and she could almost see David looking at them through his new eyes.
I'm your big brother, Kevin, said Kevin, I'll teach you how to play baseball, and I've got a lot of cool friends now. We'll have a ton of fun with them.
She smiled wider, remembering the boy who had shrugged when she asked him if he wanted to play with other children.
I'm your mother, she said, I'll make sure Kevin doesn't get too carried away, and that you won't either.
Charles chuckled next to her.
I'm your father, he said, I'll be there to help you however I can. We all will, because we love you so much.
And, in the silence, they felt David's love crash over them in a wave.