"Erik, I'm pregnant."
Raven was so happy she had finally prevailed over Azazel's protests, snuck into Erik's prison one last time. It was as much on point of principle as anything that she had argued – after all, she couldn't just let Azazel wrap her up in cotton wool for the next nine months – but Erik's face at her pronouncement was worth the risk all by itself. First he went red, then white, then red again, all the while gasping like a landed fish. Eventually, he managed:
"Azazel?" she nodded. He sat down heavily on his bunk. "How?" She smothered a laugh.
"Well, I'm assuming I don't have to draw you a diagram." Erik shook his head hard.
"Definitely not. I just meant-" Raven decided to put him out of his misery.
"I know what you meant Erik. And to be honest, I really can't tell you. I always thought I was infertile; I never had periods or anything like that, and I never fell pregnant with any of the guys I hooked up with in Oxford- Erik, are you blushing?"
She tried to hold down a hysterical giggle at the stoic German's discomfiture. This was a man who could calmly contemplate blowing up a government facility, but got embarrassed talking about basic biological facts. She felt a great swell of boisterous affection for him, with a chaser of tenderness which made tears start in her eyes. She dashed them away surreptitiously. Damn hormones.
At least she had some good news for him. Telling him about the attack on the Brotherhood had been hard. Although it was almost two months ago now – long enough for them to feel safe, unwatched, to risk another visit to Erik's prison – the psychological wounds of having their only safe harbour destroyed were still raw. Telling him about Sean's death was worse. She had spared herself nothing, steeled for Erik's judgment for allowing her comrade to die in her place. But he had simply gritted his teeth, and pronounced in a grim voice "they will all pay one day. A hundred of their lives for every one of ours." It felt good to agree with him, to let go of the burden of her guilt and shame, to pin the blame where it rightly belonged – onto the humans who were hunting and attacking them for nothing, out of fear.
Erik was making an attempt to regain his poise.
"I'm not surprised you never got with child by any human partners. Your mutation is one of the purest that I've seen. Does a tiger breed with a house-cat?" Raven smiled.
"A tiger? I like that. Not sure how the various guys I've been with would have taken to being described as flea-bitten moggies, though. Azazel was saying he's pretty sure this will be the only child born to two mutant parents – the only one he's ever heard of, anyway. A genetic first for our kind. Charles would have had a field da-" Raven stopped, tripped over the forbidden word they never talked about, her brother's name.
Erik smiled tightly, ignored her slip-up.
"And how is the proud papa?"
She picked up on his anxious tone, knew he was wondering what she herself had before telling Azazel – whether he had the stomach to support her through a pregnancy, a birth. Whether he would just disappear. She shook her head at the unspoken question.
"Proud. Excited. Wants to celebrate the birth by firing a Kalashnikov off the roof of the hotel. You know Azazel. He keeps vanishing and reappearing with half the contents of the Macy's infant section. I've tried to tell him there's no point buying diapers until we know whether the kid's going to have a tail or not, but he won't listen-"
Raven knew that she was talking too much; Erik had gone very quiet, was looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite identify.
"Anyway, that's part of the reason I've come here today, to tell you I won't be able to visit for a few months. You'll notice my rendition of Mr Franklin here is sporting a bit of a paunch – seems my ability to change appearance doesn't extend to covering a three-month baby bump. So I'm going to have to go off-grid for a while."
His face fell, and then instantly went blank. Erik would never admit it if there were days when he despaired, his loneliness, his fear. She knew better than to try and make him. What good would it do, after all? He himself had been the one to insist they take no risks, that they do nothing to try to free him until they had acquired a telepath, or something else happened to give them an unequivocal upper hand. But to face the prospect of being shut away indefinitely was one thing; to know for certain he'd be stuck here for at least the best part of a year was something else again, and it would be hard for him. She knew it, just as she knew he would cut out his own tongue before he would say so. She rushed to get her request out, hoping it would go some way towards cheering him up.
"The second reason is to ask you to be godfather."
Once again, Erik's face was a picture. He honestly looked like she'd hit him with a brick. She grinned, pleased.
"Azazel and I have talked about it, and there's nobody else either of us would rather have watching over our child." Nobody else but Charles. The words hung in the air between them, fell unsaid to the floor. Erik passed a hand over his face, looked up at her solemnly.
"You both do me a great honour. Thank you. But it is an honour I must regretfully decline."
The rejection was delivered so gently it took her a moment to recognise that was what it was. When she did, it hit her like a kick in the gut – the injury, the insult to her child. She put a hand protectively over her belly, then crouched down over the cell, put one hand on the glass panel appealingly.
"Erik, if you're saying no because you're still stuck in here, don't be such a dope – we will find a way to get you out of here one day, I promise you." He smiled up at her affectionately, looked suddenly so strangely like Charles that Raven had to bite her lip.
"I know you will, my dear. I'm counting on it. But that isn't the reason." She shrugged helplessly, tried and failed to keep the hurt out of her voice.
"Then why?"
Erik's looked seriously at her.
"I can't stand as godfather to your child because I can't take responsibility for somebody so helpless. I'm fighting a war, Raven; I can't afford that vulnerability, that weakness. And to be frank, neither can you."
She flinched away as if she had been struck. Erik winced almost apologetically, but then set his jaw and carried on.
"I forget sometimes how young you are, Raven. You're so strong, so brave, so committed, I underestimate how soft you can still be. But you have to see that this child is a mistake. If it were possible, I'd be advising you to get rid of it before it's born. But you can't go to a clinic – they'll do a scan, and who knows what they'll see? As it is, the best thing you can do is to give it away as soon as you can. There'll be some family or orphanage somewhere who may be willing to overlook whatever… gifts the child may be born with, at least until it gets older. And then… well, if it's anything like its parents, I'm sure it will be strong enough and smart enough to take care of itself."
Raven stared at him, her pain turning to fury like kindled paper turns to ash.
"How can you talk like this? This is my child, mine and Azazel's. It's a mutant, one of us. How can you tell me it would be better if he were never born, that I should give him up to be raised by humans? What the hell, Erik?"
Erik's expression darkened.
"You're a soldier, Raven. Both of you are. And you're needed. Not just by this mutant child, but by all of our people. This baby will make you weak. You'll put it first, even when it's strategic suicide. Fear for the child will hold you back, distract you from the hard choices you have to make. Don't you understand? Loving this child could get you both killed."
He hesitated visibly, then squared his shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.
"Be honest with yourself. It's already got Banshee killed."
She felt her mouth drop open in shock that he would put it so baldly, a blow on an open wound. But Erik carried on without mercy.
"I've watched you and Azazel form a bond, and I always thought it was a bad idea – attachments like that only cloud commitment to the cause. But at least both of you are strong, and know that about each other – you don't let fear for one another stop you fighting, stop you from doing what must be done. This is different. The child will be completely helpless, utterly dependent on you to survive. It's only a matter of time before it undoes you."
Erik's urgent face below her blurred. She noticed that she was crying, her tears dripping onto the glass between them. She glanced over her shoulder warily, checking that the other guard wasn't coming to take over from Franklin. Then she turned back on Erik furiously.
"You're wrong. This child will make us stronger – more determined than ever to make a better world, for him or her! We're not all like you Erik – we can't all survive on hate forever. We need hope as well."
Erik raised a scornful eyebrow.
"Please, Raven, don't insult your own intelligence. You're too well-versed in harsh realities to take refuge in fairy tales. Your brother had hope once. Where did that get him? Where did it get any of us?"
His words had touched a weakness that she hated in herself. Ever since the Brotherhood had been attacked, she and Azazel had been on the run – moving from city to city, staying in hotels or empty apartments Azazel found them for a week, two weeks, until Raven insisted they move on, for fear the CIA were catching up with them. So many times in the past months she'd longed for safety, in a way that chimed with long-buried memories of her childhood on the run; and with those memories cam the memory of how everything had changed – how she had landed up at Charles's house, and been drawn in, loved, protected. By day, she was in charge of her fate. By night, she fought a shameful longing to just go home, to bring her troubles home to Charles and let him make them disappear with his wealth, his love, his power. By mentioning him now, Erik brought it all boiling to the surface at just the moment she was most vulnerable. Raven's mouth twisted, tears still streaming down her face.
"Fuck you. You're wrong. You're wrong."
Erik put his hand under hers against the glass, and she saw a look in his eyes that chilled her blood – pity.
"I wish I was. I truly wish I was. Good luck, my dear. You're going to need it."