Raven had never told that story to anyone before. Not even Charles. She had told him she had left the child, but not with who, or where, and insisted that Charles respect her directive that he not read her thoughts without her permission. She knew that if she didn't, he wouldn't be able to resist reaching out for him, trying to bring him home. Raven couldn't allow that. Karol – or whoever the boy who had been her baby Karol was now – deserved better than that. His life, whatever that was, was all he'd ever known – it wasn't fair for her to drag him back into the past, to a mess of a mother and dead father, just because she had failed to achieve the goal for which she'd given him up.

That was what she told herself; how she justified it to herself. But sometimes she wondered if the real reason was that she was just too afraid to find out if her son still lived at all. What if because she had to have her vengeance - because in a shameful corner of her soul she had blamed her son for her lover's death – that her little boy had come to grief years ago, had long ago been buried in the earth, because the people she had trusted him to hadn't been able to protect him, because she hadn't protected him?

She came out of her disturbing reverie to realize that Maddy was biting her lip. Her face was not usually so easy to read, but her struggle not to judge Raven was so clear the blue girl instinctively drew away, her chin jutting defensively.

"Well now you know. Go on, tell me how heartless I was, how wrong. I can see what you're thinking."

Maddy flushed, reached out a conciliatory hand and then let it fall as Raven flinched away.

"Please, Raven, don't be like that. I didn't mean to be hard on you. How could I? The things I've done…" the younger girl broke off suddenly. "It's just – I couldn't help feeling for him. Growing up without his family. Without a home. I know what that's like. But I don't know how it was for you, and I shouldn't presume to judge."

Raven hesitated, and then nodded. How, after all, could she deny that?

"Fair enough. I should have realised you'd see it that way. And you're right. I didn't do right by Karol. Or Azazel. I made a lot of mistakes." And sometimes I even made them twice, she thought, thinking for a moment of the other child, the child she hadn't even told Erik about, much less Charles. The child borne of a lost year when the reality of all she'd given up had smashed through her like a wrecking ball, a year of depression, drinking, and casual sex in bar-room bathroom stalls, a self-destructive cycle only broken by the horrified realization that she was somehow four months pregnant by what could have been any one of a hundred anonymous fucks, and that this time she didn't even have Azazel to protect her.

She had gone through the rest of the pregnancy in a haze of despair and dread, finally giving birth alone in a dirty motel room in the Deep South, mosquitos rattling furiously behind the window screens. She remembered her contradictory feelings of disgust and relief when the child she birthed turned out to be a perfectly normal human baby girl, white skin, brown hair, a perfect little rosebud of a mouth. She could have been anyone's child. Raven had felt no regret when she left her well wrapped up on the porch of a children's home in Jackson. The kid had bucked the odds already just by coming into the world, and somehow dodging Raven's genetic bullet – after such an auspicious start, Raven was confident she wouldn't have to struggle in this life. But it had been a wake-up call, a reminder of how important the work she still had to do was – and that nothing could get in the way of that. Nothing.

Nothing except Charles, she thought wryly, Charles and his faith and his hope and his future. Trask still walked the earth and Azazel did not, and every now and then, even after everything she had heard about why that had to be, her soul screamed at the injustice of it. She didn't really know where that left her now; or any of them for that matter. Even Charles, for all his renewed zeal for creating a school, a sanctuary for mutant kids, didn't seem to know what to do with her. He was so happy to have her back; but how did she fit in to his vision? Come to that, how did she fit in to hers? The blue girl sighed and shook her head, turned back to Maddy.

"Yeah, a lot of mistakes. We all did. Me. You. Erik for damn sure. Even Charles."

Maddy nodded slowly. Raven cocked her head.

"Are you going to go see him now?"

Maddy hesitated.

"I think so. I never thought I would, after I left. He let me down, Raven – I know I shouldn't say it, but he really did, so badly. I didn't think I could forgive him. But… a lot has changed since then. I've changed. And from what little I know of what's been happening the last few weeks, he has too. And anyway. If anyone knows where Erik is – or even where to start looking – it'll be him."

Raven did her best not to roll her eyes. So that old flame was still burning, was it?

"You'd best go on inside then. He probably already knows you're here. His powers aren't what they were, not yet, but they're getting stronger all the time." She sprang up lithely, offered the younger girl a hand up, which she accepted. They shared a last, slightly awkward but nonetheless heartfelt hug. It would take a while, Raven realised, for both of them to come to terms with what they now knew about each other. But the bedrock of the bond between them was still there, and in time, she felt sure – or as sure as she was of anything nowadays - they'd get there.

Maddy gave her a quick, nervous smile.

"Wish me luck," she said, and started for the house.

"Good luck," Raven called after her obligingly. Then before she knew she meant to, she cried out.

"Hey Maddy!"

Maddy looked back enquiringly.

"I know you want to find Erik. But trust me when I tell you, he's changed. I was closer to him than almost anyone for a while. But I don't know who he is any more. Or what he wants. Or what he's capable of. None of us really do. Please remember that. Please be careful."