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drizzling night sky

Darwin leaves the studio at one in the morning. Given the scarce three weeks before elections and the tip received from Moira’s sources, Darwin considers it an early night. It would probably be best to head home and sleep until Moira calls him in, but he forwent lunch, and although he can go days without needing to eat, he’s hungry and there’s a diner halfway between his subway stop and his apartment.

It’s raining as he walks up the steps from the subway, and he pops the collar of his coat collar up against the chill.

A bell chimes as Darwin opens the door. He steps on to the welcome mat, and tries to shake off some of the excess rain from his jacket and messenger bag. Darwin has frequented Vic’s Diner a dozen times in the past three years, give or take. The food is well-priced, their speedy take-out is genuinely speedy, and all the staff members – as far as Darwin knowns – are mutants.

The diner itself is small and cramped. The hostess stand is claustrophobically close to the entrance, especially with the three wooden-backed cushion-seated chairs that act as a waiting area. Six tables line the walls with the windows. Mirrored across them are a row of six booths, their closed ends butting against a faux wall. On the other side of the wall are eleven stools around the curved counter that overlooks the kitchen. It’s empty now, but Darwin has seen this place bustling at 9:45 a.m. and he knows how crowded it can be. The building could not have been built as a diner, and Darwin has always wondered what the initial stores had been. A few times he has remembered to research the subject, but Vic’s Diner has been around the sixties at least. Online reviews praise the decor for being 'retro chic' and Darwin wonders if the diner just hasn’t redecorated in the past fifty-four odd years.

The door to the kitchen is on the opposite corner of the diner, and Darwin watches as his hostess makes her way towards the stand.

She’s a pretty girl with pink hair, and she gives him a sunny grin. “Just one for you tonight?” she asks. The few times Darwin has been in recently, he hasn’t seen her. He imagines the morning and night shifts don’t overlap much.

“Just one,” Darwin confirms, then follows her as she leads him to the row of booths.

“This one alright?” she asks, tapping the menu down on the table, three booths in.

“It’s just fine, thanks.”

“Great! Your server will be out in just a moment.”

"Thank you," Darwin says. It's half past one in the morning, and Darwin spends a few minutes leafing through the menu. Online reviews weren't sure how to categorize the cuisine, but Darwin thinks the Dutch-Canadian-American diner food is the best way to sum it up. Darwin is at that odd stage where one side of his brain clamors for every other item, while the other side vetoes every selection.

He’s facing away from the kitchen, and so he doesn’t see his server approach.

"Good evening, I'm Alex, I'll be your–"

Darwin's head snaps up at the voice, and Alex stops, staring down at Darwin. It takes Darwin a moment to find his own voice. "Alex. Hey." A beat of silence. It sinks in – it’s Alex and it’s been nearly four years since Darwin has seen Alex – and Darwin continues, "It's been a long time." He smiles. Another beat. “It’s good to see you.”

"Darwin," Alex replies, his voice slightly strangled. "It– it has. Uh." He clears his throat. His hands clench his notepad. "Can I get you anything to drink, or do you just want a water?"

"Water is fine.”

"Are you ready to order?"

Darwin isn’t, but he knows that stiff set to Alex’s shoulder; if he doesn’t place his order now, he gets the feeling he won’t be able to place it for a while. "I'll have the turkey club, and the garden burger."

Alex doesn’t write it down. He just nods, and walks off quickly. He appears a minute later, a glass of water shaking in his hand. A wave of water sluices over the side as he jerkily sets the glass down.

"Alex," Darwin says, "are you–?"

"Fine," Alex says. He does not sound fine. He looks like he’s moments away from having a meltdown. He hurries back to the kitchen.

Darwin twists in his seat to watch him go. He knows Alex needs to sort this out on his own, but it doesn’t make it easier to not go after him. He sighs, and looks down at his messenger bag. There’s work he could look over, but it’s hard to imagine concentrating on his job when Alex is only meters away. He just sighs, leans back in his seat, and lets his eyes slide closed.

There's a clatter, and Darwin is awake instantly.

Alex is setting two plates down on Darwin's table. There is a slight flush high in his cheeks, and his breathing hitches slightly.

"Alex," Darwin repeats, voice going serious. "Sit down. It’s two in the morning. There's no other customers in here, and as soon as there are, I'll let you do your job, but for now... Sit, please."

Alex nods. "Ignore any texts you get from the Professor," he says, as he lowers himself into the booth across from Darwin.

As if on cue, Darwin's phone buzzes. He pulls out his phone and sees Charles's name, then sets it to the side of the table.

Alex just stares at him. "It's good to see you too," he says, finally, his voice close to breaking.

Darwin nods. An itch runs up his hand, and he fights the impulse to reach across the table. He still remembers every line of Alex’s body, and he remembers this – stay away. Darwin was once the exception, but four years has been a long time. As much as he wants to be welcome, he doesn’t know, and doesn’t want to chance it.

“How’ve you been?” Darwin asks, because it seems like a safe enough question.

“Fine,” Alex says, but it’s wooden.

Darwin plays with a fry for a moment. “How have things been since Sin-Cong?” Alex hesitates, and Darwin adds, “If you’re comfortable talking about it.”

“They've been fine,” Alex says, slowly. “I’m glad to be back.”

“How long have you been back?”

“A few months. I served the full tour, or as much as they have anyone serve a full tour. The last month they pulled me out, sent me through exit seminars. And since...” Alex drops his gaze, hands tightening to fists on the table. “I’m sorry I didn’t try and contact you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you…”

"Listen," Darwin says. "I’ll be honest, I wish you had been there when I had woken up, but I understand why you weren’t. I'm not mad at you." He's disappointed, perhaps, that something good had gone to waste, but Darwin has moved past that. Charles had helped – back when Charles had the hope he had spoken about.

Alex grinds his palm against the bridge of his nose. "I would be," he says.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not you in this case. I'm open to talking if you want–" Darwin's phone buzzes again. It’s a reminder of Charles’s message (his eyes darting to see the Call if you need to), and so he flips it back over, and shoves it away again. “Besides, you know how much I hated serving.”

A few deep breathes, and Alex seems to compose himself. He manages a weak smile. “They hire good people here. None of the jackasses you had to work with.”

“I imagine it’d be hard to find mutantphobes in an all-mutant workplace.”

Alex nods.

“You’re enjoying it here, then?”

Alex shrugs a shoulder. "It pays the bills. Mostly," he adds, begrudgingly.

Darwin finally pulls his turkey club closer, and takes a bite out of it. "You're welcome to my garden burger if you want," he says.

"Not a big fan of the garden burger," Alex says, with the face he has when he's trying to be polite.

"Then the other half of my club," Darwin says. "You look... tired," he says, finally. "And like you don't eat that well."

Alex shrugs. “A lot’s been going on lately.”

“Want to talk about it?

Alex shakes his head. “Not really.”

Not the answer he wanted, but Darwin nods. “Alright.”

“How–” Alex breaks off. He reaches over and takes a fry, and starts fiddling with it. “How have things been for you?”

“Busy,” Darwin says with a smile. “Election week is approaching. Personally, I kind of like the busyness of it, but I can survive with barely sleeping and eating, so it’s a bit easier on me.”

“Still with Moira?”

Darwin nods. “She keeps trying to promote me, get me a segment on the show, but I’m happy as an AP.”

“So you just do her research for her?”

“Some research for her, some research for segment hosts, I book guest speakers, fact-check… a little bit of everything.”

“As always,” Alex says, with half a smile.

Darwin knocks his ankle against Alex’s. “As always.”

Alex startles at the contact.

The door chimes and Darwin looks up to see a gaggle of newcomers. Alex likewise turns to look at them. “I’ll let you get back to your job,” he says, reluctantly. “I should probably head home, get some sleep. Moira’s going to call me in early, I know it.”

Alex gets to his feet. “I’ll get you boxes to go.”

overcast autumn stars

It’s two in the morning, and the same hostess from last night is at the stand. “Hello,” she greets, smiling politely. “You’re Alex’s friend, aren’t you?”

“Darwin,” he introduces.

“Megan,” she say. Her smile brightens. “You gonna become one of our regulars?”

“That’s the plan,” Darwin says with a smile.

“Good plan. You one of those people who are particular about where you sit?”

Darwin shakes his head. “Nah, I’m okay anywhere.”

“Even better.”

She sets him at one booth further from the entrance than last night. And smiles wider than earlier. “I’ll get Alex for you.”

This time, Darwin sits down on the opposite side. This way, he’s facing towards the kitchen.

A minute later, Alex steps out of the kitchen and makes his way over. “Back already?”

“What can I say, I like the garden burger.”

Alex laughs, and leans against the booth seat across from Darwin. “I’ll tell Morty that. You want anything else?”

“Garden burger is fine.”

“For here or to go?”

“Here. If that’s alright,” Darwin adds.

Alex nods. “Coming right up.”

Darwin pulls out his folder of notes for tomorrow’s broadcast. With the Trask debacle going on, Moira wants all other segments as near completion as they can be, so all other energy during the day can be spent following up on Trask.

He gets about five minutes into proofing a segment on Symkarian Prime Minister Alphonse Gallatik’s re-election campaign (Moira is generally fond of Gallatik, and how his track record backs up his pro-mutant platform, if critical of the lack of mutants – and women – actually in Parliament) before he hears the click of a ceramic plate on the arborite tabletop. Darwin finishes the sentence he’s reviewing, then looks up. “That was fast.”

“You know that these aren’t made here, right? Morty just nukes them in the microwave.”

Darwin shrugs. “It’s still more than I’ve been having time to do as of late.”

Alex’s expression shutters. “I’ll leave you to your work, then.”

“No,” Darwin says, closing his folder and stowing it back in his messenger bag. “I’ve been at work all day. I could use the break.” He looks around the empty diner. “Join me?”

Alex slides down into the seat more readily than he did last night. He seems better than last night. His body language is more open, if also projecting exhaustion.

“How long’ve you been on your feet?”

“I usually work midnight to six, and it doesn’t really get busy until five or so. Just a customer or two every hour.”

“You work weekends?”

Alex grimaces. “Sometimes. The drunk ones get rowdy sometimes. They’re usually quiet by two or three, and we don't get as much business early Saturday morning. What about you? Still busy with elections?”

“Congressman Kelly is making another bid for the Senate, which should be fun. But really, the big story is Trask.”

Alex doesn’t react.

“I take it you don’t watch a lot of news?”

Alex shrugs, looks back down at his hands. “I watched a few news programs after I got back. But a lot of conflict restarted after we were shipped back, and it was – it was hard to watch. I listen to a few podcasts, but they run on a weekly basis.”

“Petey?”

Alex nods. “She’s great.”

She’s also an associate producer with Moira, and Darwin knows for a fact that she’ll have an interesting podcast regarding Trask. “You want to wait for her take, or want the up-to-date version now?”

“How depressing is it?”

“Currently, not very. One of Moira’s sources tipped us off that someone inside Trask Industries whistleblowed, and now the DSS is starting an investigation. We don’t know what about yet – with their history with mutants, we’re betting it’s not just fraud, and the details will be ugly. But for now, we’re all pretty damn happy to see them under investigation. A lot of mutantphobes have had Trask at fundraising galas. So it’s going to change the political game too.”

Alex nods.

Darwin finally picks up his burger, and takes a bite out of it. “Anything fun happen to you in the past twenty-five hours?”

Alex huffs a laugh. “No, serving isn’t nearly as riveting as the news is.”

“You’re not working every waking hour, so what’re you doing? Sleeping, partying, what?”

Alex shrugs, seems to curl in on himself.

Darwin wants to groan. “Don’t tell me I brought us back to the awkward stage. I thought we got past that last time.”

“I just don’t do much. I work here for six to eight hours, sleep it off, then spend my afternoons at the Troost Public Library. Sometimes I hang with my old army squad, but me and Morty usually have the same shift here. He’s our cook.”

“What’s the rest of your squad up to?”

“Evans works as a grocery stocker, and Eric’s apprenticing for a tattoo parlor.”

“Eric,” Darwin repeats.

“Private First Class Eric Gitter. Yeah, I know Lehnsherr’s policies on tats, can’t see him apprenticing as one. And Sean – I haven’t seen Sean yet. Keep meaning to,” Alex adds, quietly. “But I haven’t.”

“He has a recital coming up in a few weeks. It’ll be after elections, and I was thinking of going, if you wanna come with.”

The door chimes, and Alex nearly bolts out of the seat.  He looks back down at Darwin. “I’ll think about it. It sounds... nice.”

Darwin peels the strip of paper from his roll of silverware, and jots his number down. He leaves enough money to cover the bill and the tip.

Megan’s at the hostess stand, counting the tip jar, as he looks through his messenger bag to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind.

“We going to see you tomorrow night?” she asks.

Darwin smiles. “I hope so.”

you have one new message

Darwin wakes up to the chirp of a message from an unknown number. He reaches out, gropes around, and grabs his phone off the nightstand. Hey. It’s Alex. It’s been good to see you.

He has to talk himself out of immediately texting back.

The time reads 8:17, which means he’s been asleep for three hours, and he has another thirteen minutes before Moira calls him in.

It’s 8:30 on the dot, and he’s adjusting his tie when Moira calls. “Bring me a coffee and I will promote you.”

Darwin rolls his eyes as he tightens the knot. “Good morning, Moira.”

“I stayed up late, I came in early, I’m leaving late tonight.”

“Want me to get you a scone?”

“I will make you my temp anchor for when I take my December vacation.”

Darwin huffs a laugh. “Not interested in anchoring, Moira, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, camera shy, you’ve said. Offer’s there, though, if you ever want it.”

“You want your usual, or is it time to start your election usual?”

“Time to start the election usual. I’ll pay you back.”

Moira’s election usual is a small six-shot americano with two sugars and whipped cream, and she looks pathetically grateful when she sees the to-go cup in his hands. “Thank you,” she says, as he presses the cup into her hands.

“You want the proofs for the show first, or should they go to Ollie?” he asks, watching as she downs half the drink.

“I’ll read them once the caffeine hits.”

“Need me to do anything until then?”

She shakes her head, and holds out her hand for the scone. “Just do any investigating into Trask that you couldn’t do at insomniac hours of the night.”

With Moira’s announcement on the investigation into Trask Industries, a series of announcements have been made to deny the claim. There’s a brief press release planned for the afternoon, and Darwin sketches out rough drafts for the start of the segment. Moira wants some degree of delicacy with the investigation, and Darwin spends his morning looking for any lead, following up on any questions he came across when back-reading articles about Trask Industries.

Eleven o’clock approaches, and the rest of the news team starts to trickle in.

Christie Nord stops by Darwin’s cubicle at quarter after, and drops off Alison Blaire’s Mutant Corner segment. “Everything alright?” he asks, glancing the sheet over. The Mutant Rights Campaign released their voting guide yesterday, and tonight’s segment discusses it. Christie doesn’t look pleased.

She cocks her hip against his desk. “She doesn’t mention Trask.”

“Moira will.”

“Moira doesn’t think there’s a lot to say at present,” she says, airily. “She doesn’t have a mutant perspective.”

“And I have a mutant perspective, and I agree there’s not a lot to say at this point.”

“Trask’s under investigation, you know Trask’s involvement with mutants, he could be–”

“Could be,” Darwin repeats. “We report the news, not speculate our way into a slander lawsuit.”

Christie frowns. “And I have a mutant perspective, and a father who was murdered in Genosha, and I disagree. Trask could be–”

“Could be,” Darwin repeats. “Listen, I don’t disagree that Trask’s probably up to all sorts of shady shit, but Tonight’s News isn’t the place for talking about it. You’ve got a good podcast, and a good audience, channel your anger there.”

Christie’s frown deepens and she walks off.

Darwin sighs, and turns to Alison’s proof. It’s solid, as they always are, but it lacks her usual lyrical writing style. The MRC suggested voting for a candidate who has a long record of pro-mutant voting, as well as a long pro-life record. He adapts to her writing style, and rewrites a few sentences to make them less severe, and runs them over to her.

The producer’s meeting goes well, though Darwin drifts off a few times, prompting Oliver Black to ask how much reading Darwin did to catch some of the lines.

“I don’t need that much sleep,” Darwin says, to the sympathetic chuckles around him.

It takes an hour for Moira to corner him after the meeting ends. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Darwin just shoots her a disarming smile. “You know I don’t need as much sleep as the rest of you do.”

“That’s what you said last year, and you spent five days straight sleeping afterwards. I don’t want you over-extending yourself.”

“You work the same hours I do.”

“I take power naps in my office during the day. Head home after lunch, got it?”

Only Darwin’s lunch is usually around four in the afternoon, and Trask’s press release was at three. On the surface, it’s the same content as the brief comments, only drawn out, and Darwin has to watch the recording a few times to catch all the implications.

Darwin hands in a proof at seven, and Moira nods.

“Thank you, Mannes,” she says, in her even, professional tone. Then she smiles sweetly, and says, voice no longer professional, “Now go home before I have security escort you off the premise.”

Darwin laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a twenty-five minute commute home, and if he can gather his things and leave the building in two minutes, he can catch the 7:08 east Grijs line, immediately transfer to the 7:13 north Indigo line, and be home by 7:33, which then allows him to crash for a solid six hours.

subway sunset

Angel usually leaves work a few minutes before seven, allowing her time to change and walk over to her Wednesday night street jazz classes. But come six o’clock, Evangelina Whedon, Esq., strode past Angel’s desk and told her to reschedule all of her Monday morning appointments. Angel stared after her, dumbstruck. Vange’s hours with the MRC fill up quickly. The following fifty-seven minutes were not fun.

“You heading to class?”

Angel sighs. She kicks her heels off, and searches for the socks in the bottom of her gym bag. “Yes.”

Betsy frowns as she leans back against Angel’s desk. “There’s a meeting tonight. Big talk about the Infringed.”

The Infringed is code for Trask Industries. Angel’s been following Moira’s show. She knows something is going down, and it’s not going to be pretty. The Omega Gang meets on Thursdays normally, and if they’re meeting a night early, they’re going to be baying for blood.

Angel enjoys spending time with some Omega Gang members – Betsy and Calli work at the MRC, and Angel joins them for drinks with Philippa and Max on Fridays, and it’s nice. But Angel has spent her time with the Brotherhood and with the Hellfire Club and she’s fine without any alliances to radical mutant groups. She’s doing work with the MRC, she’s proud of the work she does.

“This is important,” Betsy says. What Trask’s doing, yes. Agitating and fear-mongering, not so much.

“I’m fully aware,” Angel replies. “But you’re not going to change my mind.”

Betsy’s eyes narrow. “I’ll leave you be, then. Wouldn’t want you to be late,” she says, frostily, before walking off.

Angel is already behind on her walking schedule. She shoves on her socks and dancing sneakers. She would like to change her outfit entirely, but she won’t have the time.

She only barely manages to catch the 7:17 north Indigo line. The subway train car is nearly full, and Angel does a quick scan of the compartment, looking for the safest person to sit next to. Her gaze snags on Darwin.

He notices her, smiles, and waves at her.

She squares her shoulders, and walks over, and sits down at the empty seat next to him.

His smile is genuine and she can’t help but smile back. "Hey," she says. It's the first she's spoken to him since Christmas, nearly four years ago.

"Hey," he replies, and he knocks his shoulder against hers. "It's been awhile. How have you been?"

"Fine," Angel says, and it feels defensive. She tells herself to relax. "I've been fine. You?"

"I've been great."

Angel feels skeptical, and it must show on her face.

Darwin notices, but he doesn't push. "Where you heading to now?" he asks, nodding at her purse and gym bag.

"Dance practice," Angel says, feeling far more defensive than warranted. Everyone used to pity her for being a stripper. Darwin had been one of the few to understand how much she genuinely enjoyed it. Enjoyed owning her body, owning her sexuality. "Running late. I never see you on this line."

"Normally don't take it. Moira just heard that I hadn’t gotten any sleep in thirty hours and ordered me home.”

“Thirty hours?” Angel repeats. With the Trask story, she’s not all that surprised. “Still with News Tonight?”

Darwin nods. “Are you still with the MRC?”

The use of still rankles Angel. There's no judgement in his tone, but it still raises all sorts of habitual defenses. "Yes," she says, turning to look in front of her.

She still sees Darwin frown in the corner of her eye. "Hey," he says, and gently nudges her with his elbow. "I know – I know about what happened, I have an idea of what was said, but you should know that no one really blames you for anything that happened, and those that do.... well, they're wrong."

Angel turns back to look at him. He's talking about Alex – Alex was the one who really blamed her for everything, she knows. And Alex was fucking Darwin, as much as he was trying to keep himself in his closet and keep everyone from knowing about it. The fact that Darwin is defending her against his boyfriend is reassuring.

Ex-boyfriend? Angel wonders. The last time Angel had seen any of them was that first Christmas after Cuba, and by then Alex and Sean had already been shipped halfway across the globe. “Have you seen Summers yet, or is he still in Sin-Cong?”

“He finished his tour a few months back. Just started seeing him the other night.”

“He come back alright?” she hazards. For as little as she cares for Summers, everyone knows what happens to mutants in the army. She lets out a sigh of relief when Darwin nods. “You know, the MRC has some good VA services, if Summers needs to call them.”

Darwin seems to melt back into his chair a bit. He’s pleased, and Angel is glad she could do that for him. "I think that would be nice. We only just got back in touch, but I think it might help him out. You know who to call over there?"

Her stop is approaching.

"You have your phone on you?"

"I work in the news business," Darwin says, with a laugh. For a mutant who adapted to survive, and makes every movement look graceful, grabbing his phone out of his pocket while sitting down is still as inelegant as everyone else. Angel doesn’t laugh, but judging by his look, Darwin knows she wants to.

Angel plugs in the best MVA number for him to call, as well as her own. "It's been nice seeing you again," she tells him, as she gathers her stuff to leave.

It’s not fleeing, she tells herself.

The R-School is a five-minute walk away from the subway stop, and a minute in, Darwin texts her.

Does it make me look desperate that I’m texting you so soon? ;-)

Angel laughs. A bit she tells him. You wouldn’t be the first.

Or my first time  ;-) ;-) ;-)

There had been a time, back in their first semester together – before Darwin had realized Alex swung his way and before Angel realized she probably didn’t – that they had flirted outrageously. He made her feel sexy. She made him laugh, and his laugh made her smile. It was great.

Angel had made peace with losing all her relationships, and she has no idea of what to do with the idea of possibly regaining one.

Dancing helps take her mind off it. That class feels smaller, with Calli and Max at the Omega meeting, and multiple students out sick, but it allows for Joey to pay more individual attention to each of them.

Joey smiles as he watches her slide through tonight’s routine. His gaze flicks to her wings tattoos, visible in the loose tank top and sports bra combo she’s wearing. “This is a good song for you,” he tells her. “Want a solo in the recital?”

Angel isn’t even certain if she’ll be in the recital, but she smiles. Still slightly breathless from the routine, she says, “Sure.”

He beams. “And any chance you want to help me with the beginner class? Xue Hui is sick.”

Angel rolls her eyes. “Sure,” she repeats.

Joey’s classes start with warm-ups, then Joey runs through the routine twice, coaching everyone through it, and filming at the end.

For the beginner level classes, students are encourage to warm up while Joey finishes filming the intermediate group. For the first time in weeks, though, the filming has concluded by the time 8:30 has come around for the hour-and-a-half long beginning class.

By the time the class is wrapping up, Angel is exhausted. Happy, but exhausted – even more so when Joey wheedles her into dancing for the final filmed group.

A few friends and ride-homes have trickled in during the filming, and Angel smiles at the applause.

Then she sees Erik in the crowd.

Her good mood evaporates.

She packs her bag as quickly as she can, and makes her way over to him. His eyes track her on her way over. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she hisses at him.

“Let’s talk outside,” he says, casually.

She glares at him. She gives Joey – caught up in a conversation with the blond guy who had hit on her before class had started – a wave, and leads Erik to the elevators.

“Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?” she asks, trying to temper some of the anger from her voice. “You were the last person I was expecting to see.”

"I can say the same," he says, as he follows her out of the elevator. "I thought your prior job was a means to an end. I did not know you enjoyed dancing."

"No, you didn't," she says, and it feels bitter. For all of Erik's involvement and passionate fury in the mutant cause, he cares very little for mutants themselves.

Erik’s expression is that one Angel remembers all too well. Guilty, feeling as though he should apologize.

He doesn't. "I'm looking for Raven," he tells her.

"Haven't seen her."

"Nor I.”

The quip makes Angel snort. They're out of the building by now, and Angel wraps herself in her sweatshirt. It does little against the chilly nighttime air. "She finally break up with you?" she asks, as she starts her way towards the subway.

"We were never together, despite what many seem to think," Erik says, voice dark.

"She finally break up with your ideology?" she asks, even though she thinks they amount to the same thing.

Erik takes a longer stride and steps in front of her, grabbing her wrist as she stumbles into him. It's late for a weekday night, and they're far enough from the subway station to draw any attention. "This is serious, Angel," he tells her, voice going low. "If you find her, you need to tell me."

Angel parted ways with Hellfire, with the Brotherhood, with the radical mutants and radical means. She breaks his grip on her. "No, I don't."

Erik's steps in closer, but makes no move to touch her. "She may be injured," Erik says, voice dropping down into a whisper. "I am trying to look out for her safety."

The argument that Raven can look after herself – that Raven kept reiterating after she was denied going on mission after mission – disappears from Angel's mind, replaced instead by a distant worry. Raven doesn’t injure easily.

“I haven’t spoken to Raven in years.” That she knows. Raven has a penchant for interacting under different skins.

“If not Raven, have you spoken with Emma?” Erik asks.

“What’s Emma got to do with this?”

“She might be able to find Raven.”

“Or you could ask Charles to find her.”

“There is no need to concern Charles.”

Angel wonders when the last time Erik saw Charles was. “Why? What job did you send her on?”

“None. We are not working together, more… parallel.”

"What job were you on, then?"

"Trask."

Angel stares at him warily. "What were you looking for?"

Erik gives her a sharp smile. "Something that would be admissible in court."

“Did you find anything?”

“Raven said she’d go to Trask Industries, that it would be best if I waited. I feel quite certain that she found something.”

“Erik–”

"Hey, everything alright?"

Erik steps back.

Angel turns around to see the blond who had tried hitting on her earlier. "Just peachy. An old friend and I were just catching up." In the corner of her eye, Angel sees Erik wince.

The guy doesn't look convinced. "You two have any plans for later?"

"No," Angel says, short, to keep herself from making a regrettable dig at the fact Erik is going back to as empty as a bed as Angel is. “He works a graveyard shift at a gas station, and I have to go in early to my job.”

"Want me to walk you back?" the guy asks, angling more towards Angel.

Angel gives him a tight smile, the kind she used frequently in her prior job profession. "No, thank you." She glares at Erik before turning and continuing down the way to the subway station.

"Hey," comes a voice, as soon as she's going down the stairs.

Angel keeps walking.

"Sorry to bother you like that, that guy just didn't seem like good news. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Angel looks him up and down, and aside from the arrogance, there's nothing too worrying about him.

"And," he continues, "I had wanted to tell you that you are a really great dancer. R-School is nice and all, but you could totally make it in a professional dance studio."

Angel shrugs. "Not interested," she says, in a much different tone from earlier. "I dance as a hobby, after work. Stress relief. Fun. Nothing to pursue as a career, or anything like that."

“What is your ideal career, then?”

The question catches her off-guard. The last person who had asked her this had been Charles, all those years ago, when he had been her academic advisor. There’s no exact profession for what she wants to do – help mutants – but a hundred ways to do it.

She just hopes she’s one of those hundred.

“I’m happy where I am,” she says, distantly. The southbound Indigo line slows to a halt. “This is my stop.”

radical bar bathroom graffiti

Betsy doesn’t talk to Angel the next day. Her only acknowledgement when they pass in a hallway is a cold glare. Coupled with Vange rattling off more dates she needs Angel to reschedule, it's not a pleasant day.

By the time her Friday afternoon comes to an end, Angel is considering forgoing the weekly tradition of hitting up rBr. It’s the only time she gets to see Janos and talk about non-work related things, and the only time she gets to see half of the residents of her social circle. Unfortunately, most of the circle has Omega members, and while Angel cares for them, she knows they hold grudges.

So she’s pleasantly surprised when Betsy stops by her desk. “I’m heading out early, I need to stop by the bank. But I’ll see you later?”

It’s not an apology, but it’s something. “Of course.” She leans back in her chair. “Flirting with your bankers?”

Betsy snorts. “I wish. The tellers like me. The loan officers…” she trails off, nose crinkling.

“Say no more. First drink is on me.”

Betsy slowly nods.

rBr is a bar-slash-dance club on the south side of the Mutant Plaza. Proudly mutant owned and operated, and almost aggressively mutant-friendly.

“Como?” Janos greets, as she slides into their booth.

“Thirsty.”

Janos laughs. “Vange?”

Angel rolls her eyes. “Vange is a great lawyer, and the MRC is lucky to have her, but she is relentless and ruthless and sometimes a complete–”

'Language,' Betsy chides. 'Though I applaud your alliteration.'

Angel raises her middle finger to the approaching Betsy and Calli. Calli laughs.

“How was the bank?” Angel asks.

“Ask again once I’ve got a few shots in.”

Max and Philippa arrive bearing shots for everyone.

Betsy launches into a tirade of the shithead mutantphobe loan officer at her bank, it segueways into Max talking about getting stopped on his way home after their Wednesday meeting.

“People suck,” Angel says.

“Homo sapiens suck,” Calli corrects, voice going icy. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Angel raises her hands. “I’m not arguing.” She finishes her drink. “I am, however, going dancing. Anyone want to join?”

"I'm game," Phillipa says. She takes Angel's arm, and leads her to the dance floor. “Are you trying to piss Calli off?”

“Whatever issue Calli has with me, that’s her problem, not mine. I’m sorry if I’d rather spend my time worrying about our livelihood during the time I get paid to do it, and enjoy myself on my time off the clock.”

“Calli can’t compartmentalize like you can.”

“You don’t say.”

“She just–”

“Less talking, more dancing.”

Phillipa frowns, briefly, but then her arms snake around Angel’s waist.

Songs pass by. Philippa leaves Angel to grind down on Calli, and Max spends a few songs as Angel’s partner. Dancing at the club calls on more of the moves Angel learned as a stripper than what she’s attending night classes for, but when she’s in a crowd, she doesn’t mind as much.

The happy buzz is winding down, and Angel looks around. Max has left to pursue different partners. Betsy is closest, but the music is pulsing too loudly to talk over, so she just thinks of violets, then, 'Where’s Janos?'

She gets a flash of him at the booth, scowling.

However, Betsy’s image didn’t show that the reason for the scowl is Erik.

“Fuck off, Lehnsherr,” Angel says as she approaches.

“Eso es lo que dije,” Janos says, with a thin grin.

“Gracias por el piropo,” Erik replies. “I was just catching Janos up on the situation.”

“And now that he’s caught up, you’re leaving,” Angel tells him. After a moment, she asks, “Weren’t you banned from here last year?”

“The year before,” Erik corrects, with a flick of a smile.

Angel knows Erik’s skill set and mindset well enough from her extracurricular stint with the Brotherhood that she doesn’t ask how he got in.

Erik slides up from the booth. It’s far too elegant a movement for what’s generally an awkward motion. “I know your displeasure of my methods,” he says, and Angel can’t tell if it’s for Angel or Janos or both, “but this is urgent. I need to speak with Raven. I hope I have stressed the importance.”

“Why did you come to us?” Angel asks, finally. It’s been gnawing at her since Wednesday.

Erik levels a gaze at her. It’s been years since she was the sole recipient of his attention. His eyes are still bright blue and piercing. “I figured it was a good of place as any to find her. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll leave you to your drinks.”

Janos raises a glass in toast.

Erik mimes the same, and disappears into the crowd.

Angel reaches for a drink on the table. She doesn't know whose it is, but she doesn't care. She doesn’t know why Lehnsherr is getting to her – just that it’s been so long since he last contacted her, the fact he still has the charisma that Angel wants to follow him back to the Brotherhood. “He was waiting for me, after class,” she says to Janos’ silent question.

“Why? You and Raven were never that close.”

They had been, at one time. Back in school. The only two girls in the group, they had gravitated towards each other. Maybe drunkenly made out in a closet once or twice. But Raven changed during their senior year at school. Or maybe she didn’t change, maybe she just got tired of hiding. Angel never asked. She wishes she had.

“So now we drink?” Jano guesses.

Angel takes another shot. “And dance.”

lions in winter

Monday morning comes, dreary and overcast, and Angel stays wrapped in the warmth of her futon five minutes too long for her to walk to work. It’s an eight minute ride on the west Paars line, though she is delayed by a longer line at the coffee shop.

Angel is halfway through her latte when she settles down at her desk, and still halfway through her latte when Vange strides by her desk. “Sal, with me.”

Angel tries not to ask questions of Vange, but she’s found Vange is usually more agreeable in the morning. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll want to bring your jacket and your coffee.”

Not exactly what Angel asked, but good to know. Angel waits until they’re out of the MRC headquarters and settling into the waiting town car to ask, “Can I ask for any hint where we’re going?”

“Just to visit an old friend of yours.”

Her pulse jumps up. Erik? Raven? Not wanting to risk naming either of them, Angel asks, “Which one, exactly?”

Vange just smiles, and starts scrolling on her phone.

Angel spends a moment fidgeting, hoping her dress attire is appropriate. She fits the bill for casual dress at the MRC – today in a black high-waisted pinstripe pencil skirt and deep purple button-up blouse – but Vange is wearing a tailored suit and diamond earrings. This would not be the first time Vange did not prepare Angel for a dress code.

It clicks when they’re driving up to the Railyard. “I really wouldn't call Emma a friend.” Once-colleague. Late night confident. Accidental mentor. Never friends, though.

Vange nods, and gives a quirk of a smile.

They’re vetted through security, and are shown into a room. "Why me?" Angel asks.

Vange gives her an unimpressed look. “I know all about Hellfire and Frost and Lehnsherr and everyone involved. Almost brought in Lehnsherr, just to piss off Frost, but I don’t think I could stand him myself.”

Angel had meant why not Janos, but it occurs to Angel that Vange must have been on the decision regarding Erik’s fate at the MRC. Even though it's apparent there’s no love lost between them, she wonders how Vange voted.

“Sweetie, if Miss Whedon wanted to keep Lehnsherr in the MRC, he would still be here.”

“Hi, Emma,” Angel replies.

“Hello, Angel. Esquire Whedon.” Emma looks between the two of them, and her expression softens, just slightly.

It’s practically a beam, coming from Emma.

“If you think I’m smiling now, wait until you see me after you get me through appeals.”

“I thought you weren’t interested in appealing,” Angel says. The news circuit had gone wild at the time of her indictment. Moira had been stunned, and Alison Blaire indignant.

“I said I was not interested in appealing at the present. Circumstances have changed, and I have grown tired of the jumpsuits.”

“What’s changed?” Angel asks. She knows Emma is listening in, and she thinks of the one white jumpsuit she has seen her in.

'That was tailored,' Emma thinks, primly.

“Polls,” Vange replies for Emma. She hands her phone over to Angel.

It’s an online poll, regarding the retention of the Honorable Willem R. Liefeld. Angel only knows cursory information about judges, but that's enough: the Honorable Liefeld presides over appeals, and he is a raging mutantphobe. The poll is not in his favor.

If Emma is going to appeal, she’s not going to do it if there’s a chance she won’t win. This has probably been her plan from the beginning.

Emma smiles benevolently.

“Now, before we make anything official, how public will this all be?”

“Only as much as can be helped,” Emma says, disdainfully.

Vange nods. “Good answer. We don’t want this influencing anyone. We can’t help the records of our coming and going, so I would suggest we limit coming here. You know what you want, I know how to get it for you, we won’t need to see much of each other in the starting stages. Not until I start filing for your appeal after elections.”

“No news reports either,” Emma adds. “I’m glad you’ve rekindled with your X-Men, but Mr. Darwin and Ms. MacTaggert don’t need to know about this.”

Angel sits up straighter. “I’m not leaking any information.”

“She has a superior sense of professionalism,” Vange agrees.

It’s high praise from the dragon. “I’m still going to be getting a lot of calls." She taps her foot while she drafts and redrafts her response. "I'll tell them that Miss Frost has not changed her position on appealing.”

running to steal your luck

“C’mon Angel, can’t you give me any more than that?”

“Nope.”

Darwin leans back in his chair. A tip had come in – from their mutant-prison watchdog and frequent source – about mutant rights legal activist Esq. Evangelina Whedon stopping by Hoeben Rail Penitentiary to speak with Emma Frost. Emma Frost, suffering under trumped up legal charges, who has notoriously denied appealing. There’s a story here, and Darwin – and Moira – wants to be on top of it. But with Angel as Whedon’s assistant, Darwin is wary of pushing and ruining any tentative attempts to regain his friend. “Please?” he tries.

On the other line, Angel makes a noise that may be a scoff or a laugh. “No.”

Darwin taps his pen on his desk. “I’m not going to push,” he starts. “Not yet. But there's more to this, we both know that. And when the time comes when that more comes to light, I’m going to push then.”

“Sounds fair,” Angel says.

Darwin lets out a sigh of relief. “Good to hear it. Now, is there any way I can ask for the insider’s scoop? Details come to Moira first, before any other news anchors. Or you at least alert me that a story is going to break.”

Angel doesn’t reply for a long few moments. Finally, “I’ll consider it.”

“Also good to hear.” He pauses for a moment, then says, “This is a good number to reach you at?”

“You delete my cell?”

“I like to keep professional calls on work phones, personal calls on cell phones. I can’t guarantee my professional life and personal life won’t bleed together, but I can promise to keep the calls separate.”

“Works for me. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Since you’re adamant against releasing any additional information, I think this thrilling investigation has come to a close." Darwin wants to keep pressing, but he’ll just go to Whedon, if he can get her contact information.

“What’s next on your docket?”

Darwin laughs. “Everything else going on in the world. You?”

She hums. “Nothing much. The usual.”

It’s not convincing, but Darwin doesn’t press. Things will come together in time. “Text me if anything interesting comes up?”

“Only if you do the same.”

Darwin stares at the phone after he’s hung up. He’s feeling oddly restless. He pushes up from his chair, and makes his way to Moira’s office. Through the glass doors, he can see her gesturing animatedly. He raps on the glass three times, and, when she doesn’t give him the go away gesture, pops his head in. “When you’ve got a minute, I’d like to run something by you.”

The gentleman sitting across from Moira stands, buttoning his jacket. “We have reached an impasse for the time being,” he says. He gives a curt nod to Moira. “I will be in touch, Moira.”

Moira gives her best not-obviously-insincere smile. “I expect you will.”

When he leaves, Darwin slides down into the newly-vacant seat.

Moira has slunk back into her chair. “Money shit. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Darwin nods. “Need me to grab you something?” he asks.

Her mumbled rely is unprofessional and unladylike, and Darwin pretends his mutation-enhanced hearing didn’t catch it. She sighs, and pushes herself back to sitting up straight. “What do you want to run by me?”

“I talked to Esq. Whedon’s representative with the MRC. I’ve got a statement. There’s more to the story, and the representative is considering my exclusivity request. Do you want me to see if I can get in contact with Esq. Whedon herself, get more information on the story?"

“I have her contact information through a personal connection–” Charles “–but this is Emma Frost we’re dealing with. You saw what her lawyers did to Jameson. We are already tiptoeing around our stories, we don’t need to add more eggshells. The statement should be fine.”

“What story do you want me to pursue?”

Moira lets out an undignified snort. “It’s election season.”

“Tackle anything and everything I can until you give me a story to focus on?”

“Bingo.” She sighs again. “Hope you don’t have any plans for later, it’s going to be a long night.”

It’s been nearly a week since Darwin’s seen Alex. He’s looking forward to it.

he was almost an art teacher

Megan greets him with a smile. “Need a menu?”

“Sure.”

“You okay? You seem a bit tired.”

“Just got off work.”

“Alex says you work for Moira MacTaggert. How long does your day go?”

“Usually? Eleven to nine.”

“But today was eleven to one?” she guesses, leading him to one of the booths.

“Nine to one.”

“Nine this morning?”

He nods.

Megan makes a face. “Coffee?”

Darwin shakes his head. “I’m heading home and sleeping after this.”

“We’ve got decaf.”

“Darwin doesn’t see the point in decaf,” Alex says, appearing at the booth.

The fact that Alex remembers that makes Darwin smile.

Megan looks between them, smiling as she excuses herself.

Alex coughs. “Just a water and garden burger?”

Darwin flips through the menu. “I want a grilled cheese.”

“Coming right up.”

Right up translates to two and a half minutes. “Here,” Alex says, setting it down, looking almost shy.

Darwin takes a bite, and understands why. “Oh my god,” he says. The grilled cheese includes hot sauce and avocado. It was his go-to comfort food during midterms. He hasn’t had one since graduating, and right now it’s the best thing he’s had in those four years. “Alex,” he starts. A few things flick through his mind, and he goes with the safest. “You’re the best.”

Alex ducks his head. “I overheard how long your day was. And you’ll probably be heading back out soon if you want to get to bed at a decent hour.”

Darwin has finished his first half of the sandwich. “It’s actually just an eight minute walk from here to my place. Just the right amount of time to digest, and I can fall asleep as soon as I’m in bed.”

“Lucky.”

Darwin isn’t sure which aspect Alex is referring to. “How long of a commute do you have?” he asks, feeling like it’s a safe enough question.

“Not much,” Alex replies.

From how wooden the reply is, Darwin reconsiders his calculation. But he’s curious. “You live around here then?”

Alex looks down at the counter and flushes. As Darwin parses out the best way to ask, Alex starts, "I – well, me and an army buddy of mine, we got an apartment just a few blocks away. It worked out well – our job was here, our boss is mutant-friendly, and only having a few blocks to walk made things that much easier. But the landlord raised the rent on us, after walking in on Morty goofing around. We managed to make it for two months, but he kept raising it – saying he was raising it for everyone, something about the economy, how he had to make a living too. We asked around with a few of our neighbors, and of course their rent hadn't been raised. But a neighbor got concerned, and went to our landlord, and he trumped up some noise violation charge, and had us evicted. Morty found us a place on the couch of two of our other army buddies, and I keep looking for a place, but everything that's affordable is too far away from this job, and it's just as difficult finding time to even look at places..."

Darwin nods. "Yeah," he says, voice soft. He went through some hard apartment searches before heading back to college. "I can imagine what that'd be like. Mind if I ask where you’re crashing?"

“You know that crappy camper in the parking lot?”

The parking lot has never had any draw to Darwin, but he nods regardless.

“It’s our manager’s. Logan. He’s letting me stay.”

A noise increases, and Alex turns around to watch a gaggle of college students enter the diner.

Darwin can smell the alcohol on them even from over here.

Alex looks around the room nervously. "I need to go–"

Darwin grabs his wrist. "Be careful," he says. He lowers his voice. “They’re pretty drunk.”

Alex nods, and makes his way to the group.

Darwin opens up a new email to Moira, marking it down from the default high priority – piece on m housing discrimination? is all he puts in it.

Alex returns, the flush not entirely gone from his face.

“Rude drunk or just loud?”

“Just loud. Anything else, and Logan takes over. He’s shorter than I am, but he’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“How long has he owned this place?”


Alex shrugs. “He doesn’t talk about himself a lot. All he’s said is that he has a BFA, and I still can’t tell if he was serious or not.”

Darwin chews thoughtfully on his second half of his sandwich. "You know," he says, as he rubs greasy fingers on the paper napkin. "My place isn't that far from where you work. A bit of a walk, I suppose, but if you don't mind leaving a bit early, and getting home a bit late..."

Alex stares up at him, his shoulders flexing. "I'm not moving in with you," he says.

"Why not?" Darwin asks, even though he can make a few educated guesses.

"I'm not– I don't need you to take care of me."

"You'd pay rent," Darwin says. "And I'm not around my apartment often, especially this time of the year, but the times I am, it would be nice to be able to be around someone."

"So you're saying I'd be doing you the favor?" Alex asks, tone conveying how much he believes the idea.

"No, I wouldn't try that line on you," Darwin says, honestly. He reaches over to grab his coat, and he slides it on. "I just don't think it would be that bad of an idea – you get to pay rent, and don't have to feel like you're mooching because of it. I've got plenty of space to store whatever you’ve got, and as soon as you get a new place, I'll be the first to volunteer to help you move. You know how good I am with moving."

Alex doesn't smile.

"Besides... the fact that it would make seeing you easier, and more frequent..." Darwin smiles at him. "Well, let's just say I'm not complaining about that."

Alex stares down at Darwin. “I don’t get it,” he says, voice rough. “Why do you want me to move in with you?”

“I was hoping it’d be pretty obvious by now.”

“No, obvious is the reason why you wouldn’t want me near you.”

Darwin doesn’t want this confrontation, doesn’t see why it’s a confrontation. “Listen, Alex, we can’t ignore what happened, but it doesn’t need to be such a big deal. It was an accident–”

Alex lets out a harsh laugh at that.

“–and you’ve already apologized more times than I can count.”

Alex frowns. "I haven't–" his voice breaks. "I never apologized to you..."

"You did. Multiple times."

"Only when... when you were..."

"I heard you," Darwin says.

Alex stares at him, not quite comprehending.

"When you were by my bedside. You talked to me. A lot." Darwin keeps his eyes on his plate. Alex had been speaking to him, Darwin was within his right to hear it, but something about the entire thing feels intimate, and like he's overstepped a boundary.

"You were– you were in a coma," Alex says. "The doctors all said that your brain activity, that you were– you weren't there."

Darwin nods. "At the time, no, I didn't hear you. But when I woke up, I was having a rough time, my memory was spotty, I had the Professor help me unlock my memories. Those were the first I got back."

Alex stares down at him for another few moments, expression open and fragile, and then he turns and walks away.

"Alex–" Darwin calls after him, but Alex disappears into the kitchen.

Megan takes care of his bill.

years old purple

"I took care of Darwin’s bill,” Meg says as she enters the kitchen.

Alex doesn’t look up from the tiles on the floor. Two centimeters by two centimeters, a black and white checkered pattern. He can’t breathe.

“Hey,” Meg says, softer. Fuzzier. “Alex, are you–”

“No,” Alex says. “Don’t– I can’t–”

Distantly, “Do you need me to go get Logan?”

Alex shakes his head. His vision is washing out.

“Is there anything I can get for you?”

His skin feels hot and too tight. His throat is dry. “Water.”

A glass of water appears in his vision a dozen thudding heartbeats seconds later. It has a straw in it – not the generic white-with-red straws, but one of the bright magenta bendy straws that Meg buys to give to the kids. Alex flicks his gaze up. “Thanks.” He takes the glass of the water. He squeezes his eyes shut. Focuses on taking long sips, long breathes after.

“Anything else?” It’s scarcely more audible over the rushing in his ears.

Alex shakes his head. This is the fourth time he’s nearly had a meltdown, and the fourth time she’s helped him out of it. She deserves an explanation, he knows. He hopes one day he can bring himself to give her one. “I need to – to get back–”

“Logan’s covering table three. Probably going to kick them out soon, too.”

Logan comes in a few minutes later, and looks down at Alex. “You look like shit. You need the rest of your shift off?”

Alex shakes his head.

“You need me to call the Professor?”

Alex shakes his head.

“You going to see the Professor after your shift?”

Alex shrugs. Charles had never been an early riser on his own accord, and he doesn’t know if he’s allowed later mornings as a professor. It’s at least a forty minute ride to NAU from the nearest subway stop. Charles said he would always keep his door open to alum. That had been years ago, though.

“His morning job’s only fifteen minutes away,” Logan adds. “Ends ‘round noon.”

Alex isn’t sure if he’s more disturbed that Charles has a second job, or that Logan knows about it.

“I’ll write you out instructions.”

The small hours of the morning pass. As the true morning staff trickles in, Alex wants nothing more than to fall into a dreamless sleep for the next eight hours, but he doesn’t think Logan would be too happy. Instead he sets his alarm for four hours.

A fifteen minute subway ride has him standing in front of Xavier Morning Care.

Alex stares in front of the day care for a few long minutes, debating the merits of pushing the call buzzer. His throat is going dry, and he's starting to seriously reconsider this entire idea, when Charles just quietly says, in the back of his mind, 'It is alright to just enter, Alex.'

Alex doesn't startle, he tries to tell himself, even as he feels his pulse jump. (There was nothing wrong with the telepaths the army enlisted to see to mutants discharged after their tours, but they were new and didn’t know where to look or when to look past triple-locked doors–)

'It is alright, Alex,' Charles says, his voice a bit firmer than earlier. 'Calm your mind.'

Alex uncurls his hands from fists. There's a gentle press of information, and Alex keys in the entry code, opens the door, and steps into the daycare, making his way through to the main playroom area.

There are six small children, all running about, one chasing the others. Tag, Alex thinks.

Charles is in his wheelchair off to the side, a smile on his face as he looks at Alex. He looks both similar and dissimilar to how Alex last saw him.

Alex picks his way over, careful of dinosaur toys and building blocks and discarded shoes. "Hey," he says, unnecessarily, as he stops by Charles’s chair.

"Hello, Alex," Charles says, his voice as warm as ever. "It's good to see you again."

"How did you know I was coming here?"

"Logan gave me a call," Charles says, his voice taking a careful edge. "As well, I have a block radius where I faintly scan the minds around me, and I always keep an awareness open for my past students."

Alex nods.

“What’s on your mind?”

'Look,' Alex tells him.

'You still recall how to block off anything you don’t want me to access?'

'Doors.' Caution tape had been Alex’s preferred deterrent back in school, but enforced doors are better suited for warzones.

'This isn’t about the war?'

Alex shakes his head – unnecessary in a telepathic conversation, but habit. 'It’s Darwin.'

And then Charles is flicking through the well-worn memories of Alex and Darwin, their time in school, Cuba, the past week.

Alex wants to cry.

'Oh, Alex,' Charles seems to murmur in the corner of his mind. Out loud, he says, “I live just down the block, if you would like to have lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Tea?”

“Sure,” Alex says, voice rough.

His vision keeps going in and out, and Charles leads him over to a chair where he sits and breathes while Charles packs up the kids to go home with their parents.

It’s a five minute walk down the block to Charles’s new apartment complex through a thin layer of drizzling rain.

"I had some concerns about the accessibility of my old apartment," Charles says, picking up on Alex's reaction to the new, as they ride up the spacious elevator.

Alex remembers the old apartment and the old elevator, at how two people could fit comfortably in it, but three was pushing it. Raven had hitched a ride with Darwin and Alex, and had spent the entire time pressed against Alex and laughing hysterically. They had drank so much that even Darwin had started to get tipsy, while Alex and Raven were blitzed. As soon as they peeled themselves from the elevator, Charles had called them back up to sleep it off. It was a pretty nice memory.

The doors open, and Charles starts wheeling himself out of the elevator, down the hallway. "It's still a large apartment," Charles says, and there's almost something embarrassed about it.

Alex can see why, when Charles opens the door and leads Alex into the foyer.

It's an apartment with a foyer. The foyer opens up into a living room, a spacious kitchen and dining area, with a bathroom off to the left, and a hallway to the other side.

"It's a nice apartment," Alex says. Which is a lie, and he knows that Charles knows it. This is the sweetest apartment Alex has ever seen – it may be even better than the house he grew up in.

Charles smiles at him. "If I thought you would be interested in taking it, I would offer you use of one of the guest bedrooms."

"Thanks," he says, both for the offer, and the understanding.

"Care for a cup of tea?" Charles asks, as he starts towards the kitchen.

"Sure," Alex says. He's never really liked tea, and Charles knows that, which means Charles still knows how to make it to his taste. He hangs back in the living room. It's nice – the TV is one of the best he's ever seen, and the furniture is dark charcoal leathers and dark navy fabric. Except for one couch – it's a faded mauve, with bronze stitching. It's overly ornate, and it doesn't really fit in with the newer, sleeker furniture. "Of everything in Westchester, that’s the piece you bring? Why?" he asks, as he looks over to Charles.

"Nostalgia, I suppose," Charles says, not taking his eyes off the kettle on the stovetop. It's lower than most stoves, and Alex looks around the apartment, thinking of what else probably had to be adjusted for Charles' disability. He winces at the thought, knowing Charles heard it.

"It is a disability," Charles states, matter-of-fact. "It is what it is, and I have no qualms with addressing that. There are far worse things to be, or to be called."

"You probably just get a lot of people who aren't really understanding about it," Alex says, sheepishly.

Charles gives him a wan grin. "It seems my status as a mutant has only become more and more known, and so my disability isn't always the first thing people are drawn to discuss about me."

Alex gives a half-grin. "Especially since you spend most of your time seated when on Moira's show."

Charles's grin becomes genuine. "I did not know you watched her show."

Alex shrugs. "She's– all of the anchors talk about being pro-mutant rights, but she's the only one... I don't know. I just knew her before, and so I've seen her working for us, and I believe her when she goes off on her rants. For her, it's personal, as much as it can be. For everyone else, it's just politics. I like that she cares."

Charles wheels over, a tray on his lap, and passes over Alex's tea.

Alex wraps his hands around the mug. "Did you ever sleep with Moira?" he asks.

Charles blinks a few times. "We flirted,” he says. “I flirted, rather, and sometimes she flirted back. And when she did, we... we were passionate at times, I suppose, but we never had sex, no."

Alex bites his lip. "Did you ever sleep with Erik?"

"Yes," Charles says, and the frankness surprises him more than the answer.

“Before Shaw?”

“I did not know Erik before Shaw, but for how you’re defining it, yes.”

"Are you two still sleeping together?"

Charles rubs at the bridge of his nose. He’s quiet for a long minute. "There are many factors to consider, with Erik and I, and our relationship. But when we can, yes, we do."

Alex's throat tightens. "He almost killed you," he says, voice strained.

"Had his intention been to kill me, we would likely no longer be together," Charles says, the faintest humor to his voice. "But that had not been his intention. It was an accident. I have felt his horror, I know he had not meant to harm me. But he did. Quite permanently. I cannot ignore that harm, the pain, or the damage it’s done, but I can move past it. And I have."

"And Erik?"

Charles is quiet for a long minute. "I have found when one hurts one they love, through an accident, it is sometimes harder for the one who harmed their love one to come to terms and move on from what happened."

Alex stares at Charles. Charles's wisdom is undisputed amongst their circle, but Alex has always been able to tell the slightest difference between wisdom learned and wisdom experienced. He wants to ask Charles who he hurt.

Charles winces, just slightly, even though he gives Alex a small smile. "A few that I care about," he says, his voice sounding tighter than it had before. "It is difficult, to look at those to whom you have done wrong, to work through it, and make peace with yourself. There are those among our shared circle that you might have reason to fear holding a grudge, and I can tell you quite confidently that Darwin is not one of them. He has long since forgiven you, and he bears you no ill will."

Alex finally sits down in the couch, and stares down at the tea in his hand. "I don't know how to forgive myself, though."

"Time," Charles says, after a beat. "Time does not heal all injuries, despite the claims, but it does help. Hope, too. Hope that you will get through it helps you get through it.”

Alex gives Charles a sidelong glance. "How are you working through it?"

Charles leans back in his chair, lets out a sigh. "I like to think rather well, all things considered. For everything that happened, for all that I lost, I still have a career I care about, a second interest that I care for as well, I am providing visibility on the mutant minority and showing that we are not a force to fear, and I have kept contact with those that I love as best as I can. Things are not as I had wished them years ago, not as I wish them now, but I do have hope for a better future, where things may be resolved."

Alex drinks his tea slowly. He feels tense and nervous and his heart is thudding in his chest. He pulls out his phone, and opens up a text to Darwin. Hope, he thinks. How's work? he types out. It's nothing revolutionary or gushing, but it's the first time he's reached out to Darwin, and Darwin will notice that. "How's everyone else doing? Sean, Hank, Raven..." He's curious about where Angel ended up, and he knows that Charles will have kept tabs on everyone – he knows that Charles kept tabs on him – but he doesn't know if he wants to know.

Charles gives him another small smile. "They're all doing well. Sean is recovering from his injury, and rather enjoying his newfound passion as best as he can."

"Playing the cello, right?" Alex asks.

Charles nods. "He's really rather quite gifted at it. He has a recital coming up in two weeks, should you be interested in attending. I attend to help him out – my powers make it a bit easier for him to communicate, and he has some requests regarding venues."

"Spicy Cheetos?" Alex jokes.

Charles smiles. "As it happens, yes."

Alex lets out a laugh. It was the only thing he cared about in Charles’s care packages. "Yeah," he says, "I think it would be nice to see him again."

"Hank is studying with me, although he tends to devote more hours to the lab than I do – he has never cared for children, and I know his mind and his work ethic enough to let him stand in for me during the morning, while I run the daycare."

"How the hell did you end up running a daycare?" Alex finally asks.

Charles's eyes light up, and there's a mischievous curve to his lips as he regards his tea. "I don't know, it seemed like I received a good deal of training through my prior career as an advisor."

Alex glares at him. "Hey, we weren't that bad."

"Toddlers are far easier to babysit than first-time drinking college students."

"It wasn't any of our first times drinking."

Charles sighs. "I know, but I like to pretend."

“And Raven?”

Charles sighs. “Truthfully, I am not entirely certain. She has not replied to any texts or emails. She is in the city, and she is not harmed, but she blocked any additional information.”

Raven was the sister Alex never had, and he wants to follow up, but his phone chimes. It’s a picture reply from Darwin, where he’s frowning intensely. Too much news today.

You need a vacation. Alex hesitates, then adds, I could make you another grilled cheese tonight?

No time for a selfie, but grinning so hard rn. :) :) :)

Alex smiles down at his phone.

Charles is smiling at him over the rim of his teacup.

“I missed him,” Alex says, finally. He jiggles his knee up and down. “If you had the chance,” he starts, “to have Erik move in with you, even if you barely saw each other, even if things between you weren’t okay, would you take it?”

Charles’s smile shifts to something sadder. “I’ve extended the offer. And if he ever took me up on it, I would be thrilled.”

fog blue sunrise

Darwin enters Vic’s Diner at 1:57am, and at 1:59am Alex is setting down an avocado-hot sauce grilled cheese sandwich in front of him. He eats the first half in about ninety seconds, then sighs.

Alex has sat down across from him. “That bad?”

“Less than two weeks until elections. I was waiting for a correspondence on one story and a coworker talked me into looking further into another story, Moira found out and snapped at me. It’s been a tense day. All the news is bad news, and I just…” He takes a bite of the second half. He swallows and sighs. “I am so thankful for this sandwich, you have no idea.”

Alex gives him a weak smile.

“How’ve you been?”

“Tired, mostly,” Alex says. “I haven’t really slept since yesterday.”

Darwin narrows his eyes. “Yesterday Tuesday, or yesterday Monday?”

“Monday.”

Darwin lets out a low whistle. “You okay, Alex?”

Alex shrugs. He looks down at his hands. “Tired of sleeping in my boss’s camper.”

“My offer from yesterday…” Darwin starts. “If you’re still interested, it’s still on the table.”

“I think I’d like that,” Alex says, running his thumbnail on the table.

He looks like it almost hurt to say, and Darwin feels like he should be quiet and careful with his reply, but Darwin can’t help the smile that spreads over his face. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

Alex looks up, a tentative, proud smile on his face.

"When do you get off?"

Alex can't help but laugh. When Darwin gentle kicks at his ankle, he manages to get out, "It's going to be a while. I don't get off until six."

"Think you'll be able to get through it?" Darwin asks.

Alex gives a half-shrug. "This won't be the first sleep-deprived shift I've had. And… you’re here, so that will make it easier.”

Warmth floods through Darwin. He nods. “I’m here.”

A gaggle of students come in. They remind Darwin of sophomore year – though the three bodies sitting in a booth is nothing compared to the six they could manage. Darwin smiles to himself at the memories, and applies himself to his work.

The students hang around forty-five minutes before they make their way out of the diner, laughing at some joke or another.

Alex sits down heavily next to Darwin.

"You okay?"

“They were nice," Alex says. "I like my job when they’re nice. … I’m just so tired, though.”

Back in school, Darwin could handle the all-nighters no problem, to the jealousy of the rest of the group. Alex got jittery on energy drinks or any other form of caffeine, and so Darwin used to talk to him to help him make it through the night. Usually about Darwin, and he doesn’t know Alex as well. "Tell me something I don't know about you," Darwin says, brushing his shoulder against Alex's.

Alex blinks a few times, as he turns to focus on Darwin. "Uh," he says, before he turns back to look at the table, his eyes struggling to refocus. "I was born in Anchorage, Alaska."

"Oh?" Darwin says. Alex has never been upfront about his past, and Darwin only knows the barest facts. He isn’t sure whether to be more concerned about Alex letting his guard down, or touched with Alex opening up about something new.

Alex nods. "Grew up there, mostly, until my parents died."

"Did you like it there?"

Alex gives him a rough grin. "I have good memories of it. After coming back from Sin-Cong, I went back there. I tried to see if I could visit the old house I lived in. I didn't remember the address... it had been nearly twenty years since we lived there. And there wasn’t really anyone I knew to contact to find out. I really wanted to find it, though. I sub-leased an apartment, spent three weeks up there. Spent that time searching for the house where I grew up. I found a few parks I remembered, or maybe that I thought I remembered, but it was... I couldn't find the house where I grew up. I cried over it, I was so frustrated. But at the same time, there's a part of me that was glad. I had happy memories back then, I was a good kid. A brat at times, of course, but after… after everything I've done, I'm glad I wasn't able to find where I lived. I didn't grow up as who I wanted to be, and to connect my past with my present, it would have hurt more than not finding it, I think. But even so, not finding it... I took it harder than I should have."

"Hey," Darwin says, and he reaches up, his hand on Alex's shoulder blade. "You've been through a lot. And coming back from a war zone, you're allowed to take things however you want to. It’s alright."

"There were VA services up there. I didn't go to them. I didn't want to. I wanted to try and pretend that nothing was wrong."

The movement to trace his hand across Alex's back and wraps his arm around his shoulders is easy, and Darwin pulls Alex in closer, as much as he can in a diner booth.  "It's alright, Alex," he repeats.

Alex hums.

He falls half-asleep against Darwin, the slow, even breaths familiar despite the years.

Time passes, and Darwin continues reading through old articles.

“He okay?” Megan asks.

Darwin nods minutely. “He gonna get in trouble?”

“There’s no customers, I don’t see why he would.” She stares at him. “You just gonna sit like that all night?”

“Yeah. I can adapt to anything, staying still is nothing.”

"Huh," she says. "Sounds handy."

Megan's never disclosed her mutation to him before, and Darwin doesn't think that tonight is the night for this conversation. Sure enough, the next words out of her mouth are, “Want to play tic-tac-toe to pass the time?”

“Sure.” He flips over a piece of scratch paper, and draws the grid.

Outside, the rain picks back up.

The novelty of the game eventually wears off, and Megan goes back into the kitchen. Darwin returns to his work.

Around five-thirty, a duo comes in.

Darwin gently nudges Alex awake. He grumbles through it, but gets their order of coffee.

Slowly, six in the morning comes.

Darwin starts gathering his papers, stowing them away in his messenger bag. He hangs back as the duo pays at the register, and as Alex signs himself out of the system.

Megan is relieved by someone who, judging by the effusive greeting, Darwin assumes is one of Megan's friends.

The next server smiles at Darwin. "Can I help you?" she asks.

Darwin idly wonders if she's been up all night, or if she woke up at some early morning in the hour. Darwin has never liked waking up before dawn – he can, he can make himself do it, but he prefers to stay up until then, go through the day, and sleep after. "I'm just waiting for Alex," he says.

She stares at him for a moment, then her eyebrows raise up, and comprehension dawns on her face. "Oh," she says. "You're Darwin?"

He nods.

She looks behind Darwin, at the door. Darwin glances back, and sees a group making their way in from the parking lot. "Well, he should just be a minute."

"And I'll get out of your way until then," Darwin says, stepping to the side.

She shoots him a grateful look, before turning to the opening door.

Alex appears two minutes later, a black windbreaker thrown over his shirt, a beat-up messenger bag slung across his chest.

Darwin’s heart thuds painfully. “That all you got?”

“No, this is for the night. Morning. Whatever.”

"You know," Darwin says, as they step out of the diner, into the chilly early morning air, "if I'm pushing, you can tell me. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Alex shakes his head. "It's fine."

"That's not exactly comforting. This is about you, Alex, and what you want, as much as it's about what I want."

Alex shoots him a look, before sweeping his gaze back to the sidewalk. "I don't really do comforting. Which way to your place?"

Darwin moves in towards him, brushing their arms together. "I don't want to push," he repeats. "You can tell me to drop this, and I'll do my best to let you be."

"I just don't want to talk. Not right now, not yet." He pauses for a moment. "But I do want this."

Darwin smiles. They're at a streetlight, waiting at a red light. He nudges Alex into turning towards him. Alex was never comfortable with the idea of public affection, and so Darwin drops his head in, carefully, to press the slightest kiss to the corner of Alex's mouth.

Alex doesn't pull back, only smiles, slightly.

The light turns green for them, and Darwin starts hurrying across the street. "Race you," he calls back over his shoulder.

"I have no idea where we're going," Alex calls after him, but Darwin can hear Alex speed up.

"Then it looks like I'm going to win," Darwin yells back, as he picks up the pace, racing down the next block.

Alex is laughing a few meters behind him.

Darwin doesn't race full out – his blood is singing to pulse faster, and Alex gets mad when Darwin holds back, but he doesn’t want to run from Alex.

Also, Alex is a sore loser.

Still, by the time Darwin buzzes them into his apartment complex, he's out of breath, and Alex is panting beside him.

Darwin goes to the elevator, but Alex trots past him to the stairwell. Darwin, laughing, follows. “You don’t know what level I’m on!” he calls up the stairs.

Alex waits on the second flight landing, and Darwin winks at him as he runs past.

“Hey!”

Darwin just laughs.

The next flight of stairs up, Alex’s hand wraps around Darwin’s elbow, and he’s still laughing as Alex whirls him around and presses him against the wall. He only stops laughing when Alex’s mouth covers his.

Alex’s face is wet from the rain and sweat when Darwin reaches up to cup Alex's cheek. It's been years since they did this. Charles had been delicate when helping Darwin recover his memories, and it was as if those memories had been wrapped in shrink wrap. Darwin could still see them, but he couldn't feel them. All those memories come rushing back to him now, his skin alight with the sensation, the knowledge that he hasn't lost Alex. The curve of Alex’s cheek familiar against Darwin’s palm, Alex’s fingers digging into Darwin’s shoulder blades, how their mouths slot together perfectly.

Darwin could spend the rest of the night like this. Alex, however, needs to breathe. He pulls back, gasping for air.

"I think one of us is going to collapse from exhaustion," Darwin says, breathlessly.

They take the next two floors much slower, before they fumble into Darwin’s apartment.

Darwin had intended to give Alex a tour, but instead he pulls Alex into his bedroom. A few more kisses, but they fall into bed and fall asleep.

Darwin wakes up at ten, and he gets out of bed, and stretches. There’s a fading soreness in his muscles from the race here, but he still feels great. He realizes that it may be strange to leave Alex alone in his apartment, but he needs to get back to the station.

He leaves a note for Alex on his pillow. He labels it "Hey, Sleepyhead" because he knows it will make Alex smile, and not induce any nervousness that just putting "Alex" would. He keeps it short and simple, tells Alex to stay as long as he needs or wants, and that he's going to be out for the rest of the day. He draws a map of his apartment, in the style of the maps that Raven had given them for Charles’s Nieuw Amstel brownstone and the Westchester mansion. He ends it with a smiley face.

He gets a text, three hours later, questioning the smiley face.

old metal skies

Angel’s Wednesday goes smoothly, for a certain value of the word. She has never read and reread so much legal paperwork as she has in the past three days, and she’s been pulling longer hours to get the job done.

Vange strides by her desk at 6:15, and instead of the distraction Angel is hoping for, Vange orders her home.

Any other night, Angel would be out the door in minutes, but she has time still to go before she needs to catch the 7:17 north Indigo line. She doesn’t know if Darwin will be catching the same subway. Over the past week, Darwin has texted her eleven times, and Angel has texted him eight. Once upon a time, they could have managed that in the span of five minutes. It’s not exactly the rekindling of a beautiful friendship, not as much as Angel would like it to be.

The knot in her stomach disappears when Darwin beams at her and waves her over. He slides his messenger bag over into his lap, and wraps his arm around her shoulders when she sits down. “Hey, girl.”

“Hey yourself.”

Angel’s good mood lasts through her immediate dance class and being requested to assist with the beginner class, up until she’s waiting for her subway back home. The blond guy from last time is a few meters away. He had attended class, and even though Angel had caught him staring at her a few times, he had let her be.

He lets her be until a minute after the subway starts up. “Hey,” he says, sliding into the chair next to her. Angel wishes she had taken the aisle seat, not the window seat. “I know,” he starts hurriedly, “that I am being forward and pushy, but,” here he pulls out his phone, “I knew I knew you from somewhere before, and it’s finally just clicked. We knew each other a few years back. See?”

Angel would rather tell this guy to go fuck himself than take the phone he’s shoving at her, but she accidentally glances down, and her stomach nearly drops out.

It’s Raven. Her and Raven, arms wrapped around each other, both beaming at the picture. At Alex behind the camera.  It was the afternoon of both their last final exams. Raven’s intermittent attendance and disinclination towards homework meant her grades wobbled, but they both knew they passed their exams, their classes, there was nothing between them and graduation.

Angel looks back up at the guy.

He gives her a smile, and his eyes shift yellow for a second.

Angel wants to punch him. Her.

Raven smirks. “Remember me now?”

“Yeah. Sorry, long time ago, what’s your name again? Robin?”

“Willem.”

Angel raises an eyebrow. “Right.”

“You have any plans later tonight?”

“Head home, sleep, wake up early for work tomorrow.”

“Want me to walk you home? I’ve got an umbrella.”

“You’re staying on the first floor.”

Willem smiles. “So what’d you think of Joey’s routine tonight?”

Angel keeps up an idle conversation through the transfer to the east Paars line, and the next three stops, and the walk up to the steps.

Willem pulls out an umbrella, and they walk in silence up the stairs. Willem lets out a deep sigh as they start down the sidewalk.

Angel leans in close. “What the hell is going on?”

Raven drops her form’s male voice as she says, “I’ll explain when we get to your apartment. How much further along is it?”

“Three minutes. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Back in Willem’s voice, Angel doubts it even more, but she doesn’t comment.

Angel lives on the seventh floor of her apartment complex. It’s converted from an old Dutch house, and so the whole floor is hers, but it’s only ten feet wide.

Angel unlocks the door, and stands back, letting Willem in first. Once Willem has shed his water-logged sneakers, and Angel has done the same, she shoves Willem the two meters into the living room and then down onto the couch.

Raven shifts back into her normal blonde form as she falls.

Angel’s heart thuds painfully at the sight of her old friend. “Hey,” she says, unable to help herself.

Raven smiles up at her, almost shyly. “Hey.”

“Erik’s beek looking for you.”

Raven’s expression shutters. “I know. I finally lost him the other day.”

“He won’t know to come here?”

Raven shakes her head. A lock of hair falls over her shoulder at the movement, and she pushes it back behind her ear.

“Erik made it seem like you were in a life-or-death situation.”

Raven bounces her knee up and down. “I was.”

Concern knots in Angel's stomach. “Are you okay?”

Raven doesn’t reply. She looks down at her hands. “This might sound strange, but could I have a cup of tea?”

It’s Raven’s comfort food. Angel is half-concerned that Raven will flee as soon as Angel moves into the kitchen. A moment after, she sneaks a look back, but Raven’s still sitting motionless. Angel defaults to coffee, or hot chocolate, but there are a few teabags in the back of her cabinet. She hopes teabags don't expire. And if they do, that these haven’t. She puts the kettle on the stove, finds her nicest mug – white with black birds – and waits. But the umbrella only kept Angel’s head and torso dry, and her usual dancing gym shorts had needed to be washed, which left her in a full-length yoga pants, which are uncomfortably damp against her legs. She feels gross and wants to shower, but it would feel rude. She moves back into the sight of the living room and asks, “Mind if I change?”

Raven gives her a weak smile. “Go for it.”

Angel goes for her green-yellow-blue flannel sleep pants and a basic blue tank top.

When she comes back into the living room, Raven has changed into a black fleece jacket and navy pajama bottoms with fur around the hems. Angel has always wondered how exactly changing clothes worked with shapeshifting, but she has never felt comfortable asking.

The kettle whistles in the kitchen, and Angel pulls it off the stove top. She choses a tea bag at random, and throws it into a mug, and pours hot water over it. The mug is warm between her hands as she slowly pads back into the living room, and sets it down in front of Raven. “If you need any milk, or sugar, or…”

Raven shakes her head, and wraps her hands around the mug. She’s quiet for a long minute, just staring into the tea.

Angel sits down next to her.

“Erik,” Raven starts, finally. “Erik asked me to infiltrate Trask Industries.”

The bottom drops out of Angel’s stomach.

“Erik keeps an eye out on homeless mutants, heard that someone was driving around, offering money to participate in a medical study.” Tears well in her eyes. “I shadowed Trask’s personal assistant, learned her, and used her to get into Trask Industries one night. I looked into the high-clearance files. I thought–” The tears start falling down her face. Her voice starts to waver. “Erik manifested and was sent to Genosha as Shaw was starting his rise to power, he sees the worst in everything and every human, and when he said he thought Trask was experimenting on mutants I just thought he was letting his past cloud his judgement, but he wasn’t, Trask was dissecting mutants, trying to reverse engineer their mutations, and there were dozens of mutants, all mutilated and killed and I–” Raven cuts herself off, curling into herself.

Angel takes the mug out of Raven’s hands, and sets it on the coffee table, and pulls Raven into a tight embrace.

Raven starts bawling. Angel moves a hand up, and cups the back of her head. Angel cards her hand through Raven's hair, trying to comfort her as she tries to absorb the horror of what she's heard.

Angel has no idea what to do. There’s nothing she can say to this, there are no platitudes. This is horrible and disgusting and horrifying. She finds herself distantly wanting to call Charles up, have him fix it. But this isn’t the petty mutantphobia Angel suffered from lesser professors.

Darwin is her next thought. He has access to Moira’s show. He can do something.

Raven finally cries herself down to sniffles. She pulls back.

“Better?” Angel asks, because it’s the least offensive of all platitudes.

Raven nods, reaching up to rub at her eyes. She takes a deep breath in, and her skin ripples blue for a second. The puffiness to her eyes, the redness to her cheeks, and the tear tracks down her face all vanish. “Better,” she says.

“That seems like a really useful skill.”

Raven cracks a smile. “You have no idea. I was a moody teenager, it was nice to know I could escape from all those fancy parties, cry hysterically in the bathroom, then return and not look like I’d been crying hysterically in the bathroom.”

“Finals, too.”

Raven relaxes into the sofa. “Finals I could deal with. It was just some lectures, some discussions, some teachers.”

"Brooks?"

She snorts. “How’d you guess?”

“He’s not teaching at Nieuw Am, anymore,” Angel says.

Raven nods.

"Right after we graduated. It was my first year with the MRC, and they were putting up a campaign to get him to resign. He was an asshole about it, but he did.”

Raven goes quiet. “You had a quote in the campaign. Erik wasn’t happy when you left the Brotherhood. He scoffed at the MRC. Thought it wasn’t enough to get a mutantphobe out of a job. He thought… A lot of things weren’t enough for Erik.”

Carefully, Angel asks, “What happened between you two?”

“I haven’t seen him since the first night I infiltrated Trask. Some… most, I suppose. Most people, when told they're right about something, they get smug. And Erik does, sometimes. About petty things, though. But with events like this… he is the most arrogant man I have ever met, and that counts living with Charles, but sometimes I wonder if he ever hopes to be wrong. When he finds out he’s right, he’s not smug, he’s… terrifying.”

“So you’re hiding from him.”

Raven pulls a face. “That makes it sound bad. He just grieves for mutants, and he rages, and he becomes reckless, and this story needs to be handled carefully. Delicately.”

“And Erik doesn’t do carefully,” Angel concludes. "Or delicately."

Raven snorts. “Nope.”

Angel considers Raven. “Darwin does carefully.”

Raven leans back into the sofa. “I know,” she says. “I’m persuading–” Raven cuts herself off. “I had help, in the end. What I found, the legality of it… but that’s not the case with her. I’m trying to convince her to go public, with everything. I know Moira – she’s the best to go to.”

“I can arrange a meet,” Angel suggests. “Darwin and I have started talking again. He wants me to give him the scoop on Emma, which I can’t, but I can help him out on this. Trask is a bigger story.”

Raven nods.

Angel’s phone chirps with a text. She grabs it off the coffee table. It’s Calli – Meeting late tomorrow.

And it’s late already. “Need me to get you any blankets? It gets cold when it’s raining this hard…”

Raven gives her a brittle smile. “Thanks.” And a quieter, "Thanks," as Angel brings out the blankets. Raven wraps one around her shoulders. “Would it be alright if I stayed here for a few nights?”

“Stay as long as you need,” Angel replies.

rabbit tending

The cold of the rainy morning has Angel reluctant to leave her futon. She hits the snooze button a few more times than normal. Finally she rolls out of the futon, and then she’s speeding through her morning routine: shower, dress, grab subway tokens, grab breakfast. It’s not until 7:27 and Angel is shoveling down a bowl of muesli does she notice Raven on her couch and remember all of what happened last night. She blinks a few times, and asks, “Are you awake?”

Raven doesn’t reply.

Raven is a notorious light sleeper.

And notoriously good at faking deep sleep.

“I have enough food to last you the day. I’ll jot down my number so you can call me at work if you need anything. If you leave the apartment and need back in, feel free to pose as me. Just text me whatever your cover story is in case I run into the landlady later. I’ll try and be quieter when I come in. Call me if you need anything?”

“More tea,” Raven mumbles.

“Sure thing. I’m on my way out, go back to sleep.”

Angel’s job at the MRC is normally a 9-to-5, but she hasn’t come into work later than 8:15 in two weeks. She’s just up the subway stairs and umbrella shielding her against the rain, the MRC front doors in view, when her phone goes off. She’s worried instantly that it’s Raven, that's something wrong, but her caller ID reads dragon. “Morning, Vange, I’ll be up in about–”

“‘m sick.”

Angel nearly stumbles. “You’re what?”

“Sick. Cold. From client. You’ve the day off.”

Vange isn’t technically Angel’s boss, and not allowed to give her the day off, but it’s a nice sentiment. “Thanks. Feel–” there is a click of the line being disconnected “–better.”

In the middle of Angel’s junior year, first semester, a teacher only posted about a cancelled class on the doors to the class. Angel had stared at the notice, then returned to her dorm room, and gone back to sleep.

Angel is so very, very tempted to do the same right now. Especially knowing Raven is there. But she makes her way to her desk. She emails an update about Vange being out to her supervisor, and loops Janos in. When she has time to spare, the Latino outreach always has work to do.

Sure enough, not five minute slater, Janos drags her over to his desk.

She keeps her cell on her, and around ten-thirty in the morning, her phone starts to buzz. The number is unknown, and she answers with a, “Bueno?”

“I need you to create a burner email. Name it after the street we saw that engagement, and the GPA you were afraid you would get your freshman year. I’ll email you in fifteen minutes.” The call hangs up.

Janos is looking at her curiously, and Angel shrugs a shoulder. “Wrong number. Still, I’m hungry. I’m going to go grab a snack from my desk.”

“Bullshit,” Janos says. “But are you going to come back and help, or should I thank you for your help now?”

“I’ll be back, in about half an hour.”

elmer294 isn’t taken, and fifteen minutes later, she has an email – elmer344, because Raven came into school with Charles’s high academic standards mistaken for her own. Tell Darwin to be at Apollo Coffee #4 at 11:45. Look for a patterned jacket. “Nice scarf.”

Angel spends a minute wondering why Raven didn’t just reach out to Darwin, but she gets out her phone and hurries down to the first floor of the building. She waits until she’s halfway down the block before she calls his work number.

“Darwin.”

“What are you doing at 11:45?”

“Meeting somewhere for a tip on the Frost story?”

“Not Frost. Trask.”

Silence meets her for a few long seconds. “Are you for real?”

“Apollo Coffee on Konijnenestradt.”

“It’s too crowded there. Can we meet somewhere else?”

“It’s not me.”

“Who is it then?”

“I don’t know. You’re looking for someone in a patterned jacket and a scarf. Tell them it’s a nice scarf.”

“Gotcha. Anything else?”

“Keep me anonymous.”

“Can do. I gotta go, I gotta run this by Moira before I run out of here, but thank you.”

tonight's news

“Good evening. Today is Thursday, October 25th, 2014.

"Today, New Oranje Senate candidate Kelly spoke at a rally; controversy erupted at Nieuw Amstel University over a provocative mutant rights rally. But first, on Tuesday, October 16th, I reported that Trask Industries had been put under investigation by the Department of Security. It turns out, they’re under investigation by the United Nations Human Rights Council as well. Earlier today, an anonymous source came forward and spoke to an associate producer regarding the events leading to the investigation. The source gave us this official statement:

"Dr. Bolivar Trask and a team of highly-paid medical professionals have spent the past six months performing experiments on mutants. Despite the initial consent of participants, experiments were outside the parameters of what participants were lead to believe would happen, and transcripts of the procedures show that many participants withdrew their consent. Procedures did not stop. End quote.

"The source added that they contacted both the DSS and the UNHRC, as the experiments were a blatant violation of the Genoshan Conventions.

"In addition to the statement, the source also provided a file on Dr. Trask's experiments. Included where photographs. There have been heated debate in the board room from the moment we first received these photos, up until I left a few minutes ago. During the commercial break, my news team will give the final okay on what should and should not be shown. These images are graphic in nature, and viewer discretion is advised.

"There’s still a few minutes before commercial break, though I don't know what to say about all of this. I only found out about this a few hours ago, and I'm still processing everything. It’s 2014. Twenty-one years since the end of the Genoshan genocides. Yet… here we are. What happened to these mutants is deplorable. But what's worse to me is the fact that Dr. Trask felt justified in doing it, that we are in a social climate where he felt that he could get away with it, that mutant phobia is still so entrenched in our system that there will be some who will delude themselves into thinking this is okay.

"This is not okay. These are my friends. I like to think I would be impassioned if I didn't have the same personal relationships, but I can’t speculate. The fact is, these are my friends. I went to grad school getting to know the first class of mutant studies undergrads, and this could have been any one of them. I have dated mutants. I've laughed with mutants. I've cried with mutants. I've kissed mutants.

"Not all mutants are good mutants, much as how not all humans are good humans. Humans – those of color, those who are queer, those who are disabled – still face prejudice and bigotry. But the degree and the extent of violence that mutants face, the daily prejudices and injustices are unacceptable. They are more than what we've allowed them to become.

“We’ll be back after this commercial break.”

these days we’re fine

Days pass.

Alex works midnight to six. He stays up until Darwin wakes up, they eat breakfast together, and Alex goes to sleep while Darwin heads to work. After Darwin gets off work, he spends some time at the diner, then goes back to his apartment to sleep until Alex finishes work.

There’s very little overlap, but they enjoy what they get.

More importantly, Alex’s comfortable. When Darwin comes to pick Alex up from work, Alex admits that he spends his days channel-surfing, watching soap operas and enjoying himself, half-dozing on Darwin's couch while melodrama happens on the screen.

"It's nice," Alex says. "Actually, y'know, having a place to crash. And living further than a few meters away from work."

Darwin snorts. "I can imagine."

He just watches the small things, as his apartment slowly becomes inhabited by Alex. Small things, just toothpaste left on the sink counter (instead of the cup Darwin usually returns it to), extra bottles in the shower, cereal brands he never eats on top of the fridge.

Alex isn't apologetic for it either, which Darwin enjoys the most. He doesn't know how well his reassurances would do to assuage Alex, and he's glad not to have this tension between them.

It lasts five days.

"You doing anything for All Saints?" Darwin asks, their night off together, as he starts shucking off his dress shirt.

"What?" Alex asks, head snapping over to Darwin.

"All Saints is in a few days," Darwin says. "You used to be super religious, remember?"

"I would never call it super religious."

"You were observant of some holidays, which is more than anyone else in the group.”

"Yeah," Alex says, woodenly. "A few years on tour kind of did away with that."

"Oh," Darwin says. He grimaces. "Sorry to bring up–"

"No, no," Alex says, waving a hand. He turns his back on Darwin, and starts undressing.

Darwin wants to text Angel, but she threatened to block his number if he kept texting about Alex. Jokingly, but Darwin doesn’t want to accidentally push the wrong way for a second time tonight.

Darwin finds that Alex isn't the same around him as they approach All Saints. By the time Darwin wakes up the next morning, Alex is gone. A text halfway through the day just says Hanging with army buddies. Darwin has no idea what happened in Sin-Cong that shattered Alex's religion, but Darwin doesn't see him for another day after, when he approaches the hostess stand.

Megan looks thrilled to see him, which does something to assuage Darwin's fears. "Hey, stranger," she teases. "Long time no see."

Alex smiles when he sees Darwin, but Darwin can't help but feel there's something wrong.

no timberline

Alex is quiet an unapproachable for the rest of the week and through the weekend.

You coming back? Darwin texts. Adding an 'ever' would have been too confrontational, but a part of Darwin had wanted to add it.

Yeah.

Darwin doesn't ask when. Sunday night turns into early Monday morning, and Darwin waits up, proofing segments on the studio server.

Two in the morning comes, and there's a knock on the apartment door.

Alex doesn't look at Darwin as he enters the apartment.

"How's the squad?" Darwin asks.

Alex shrugs. "Fine."

Darwin makes a gesture. "Alright, talk."

"What?"

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"You've basically ignored me the past week. I brought up All Saints, and All Saints is all about commemorating those that have passed, and I should have thought about how hard that had to've been for you after the war, and I'm sorry. I get if you don't want to talk to me about what happened, but you gotta let me know that you're going through this."

"I'm not going–"

"You are haunted, and–"

“It’s not the war, it’s you.”

A very rational part of Darwin notes the way that Alex’s eyes immediately widen after he says it. How stricken Alex's expression is.

Alex didn’t mean it, not as it came across, the rational part says.

But that doesn’t mean he didn’t mean it, the irrational part says.

He think he’s allowed to be upset that something about him is more nightmare-inducing than a forty-month tour in a military zone.

The very rational part of Darwin has him saying, “I think I need a minute.”

He turns from Alex, and makes his way to the window. He switches the latch so the window slides down, and he climbs out the window.

This is the first day it’s been clear in two weeks, but the air is still bitingly cold at this hour of the night.

He sits on the fire escape.

Darwin was always the go-to mediator of their group. Erik and Charles arguing. Erik and Moira arguing. Charles and Raven arguing. Raven and Alex arguing. Angel and Erik arguing. He’s calm, cool, collected, objective, diplomatic. He enjoyed it, too. Helping his friends, making the group stronger.

There's no one left to help him now. And very little strength is left.

Darwin adapts to any social situation, he's never been this hurt before.

He sighs.

He turns around, sees Alex pacing inside. He climbs back into his living room, then closes and latches the window. He turns back around.

Alex is staring at him.

"So," Darwin says. "Let's talk through this."

“I killed you, Darwin,” Alex says, softly. “At least in Sin-Cong I didn’t have to live with my ghosts.”

“I’m not dead, Alex!”

“You died!”

“I know!” Darwin yells. His pulse races, and tears sting his eyes. He is no longer calm nor cool nor collected. Four years have built up to this moment, and he has to blink back tears, fight to keep his voice from breaking as he says, “I know. Legally, I am dead.”

Alex stares. “But Charles…”

“Charles brought me back, but I had been declared dead on arrival. It’s possible to be returned from the dead, yeah, but it can’t be declared without a full–"

“Medical inquiry,” Alex finishes for him, voice thick.

Darwin blinks a few times. “I’m lying. To everyone. Darwin isn't a nickname any more. Legally, I am Mannes Darwin. Moira wants me to be a reporter. Keeps trying to get me on as a temp anchor for her. I tell her I’m camera shy.”

“You’ve never been camera shy.”

“I am now. But only as a necessity. Really, I – I’d love to be a reporter.” His throat feels tight, and his chest feels empty at the admission. “I’ve never been able to tell anyone. Charles knows, of course, but he’s never… I can’t live that dream. He knows better than to bring it up.”

Alex opens his mouth to reply, but closes it.

“I am a ghost. And that’s – it’s not – the only way I can bear it is by surrounding by myself by people who don’t treat me like that. And you do. And I hate it. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me.”

Alex's face scrunches up. “I’m sorry, Darwin. But I–” Alex’s voice breaks. “I can’t get over what I did to you. I’ve tried, I want to, but I – I can’t do it.”

Darwin runs his hand over his face. “And I can’t do this with you if you don’t.” He hates saying it, hates ultimatums in relationships, but something has to give. “Have you talked to Charles–”

“No. I don’t want Charles in my head.”

“He would help. And Alex, you’ve been struggling with this for years on your own. You need help.”

“I know,” Alex says. Tears start streaking down his face. Voice small, he says, “Help me.”

Darwin pulls him into a hug.

“I don’t want to lose this,” Alex says, broken, into his ear.

Darwin doesn't want to lose it either. But they can't keep going like this. Alex's chest heaves against Darwin's. They can’t. Darwin closes his eyes, sifts through the possibilities, the options. “You won’t. We won’t.” Darwin pulls back, and looks at Alex. “I have an idea on something that may help. When do you work next?”

“Logan – he knows I've been going through a rough time. I can call him at any time, and he’ll take over, if needed.”

“Call him,” Darwin says.

the sixth station

By three o’clock on a Monday morning, trains from the city only run once an hour.

They're lucky enough to be jogging to the train stop just as the train pulls into the station.

It's an hour and twenty minutes to Westchester. Darwin spends it leaning back, relaxed in his chair, while Alex stares out the window, fidgeting in his seat. Darwin wants to tell him it's okay, wants to reassure him, but he knows he needs to wait, wait until Alex sees he's on the road for things to be okay.

A light rain starts pattering against the windows ten minutes before they reach Westchester. Darwin can adapt to the rain, but he's concerned for Alex.

The drizzle fades out as they start walking towards Greymalkin Lane. Darwin reaches an arm out, wraps it around Alex's back.

Alex leans into him, just slightly.

It's five in the morning, there's no one out, and Darwin spends his time looking around. Trips to Westchester had occurred every other weekend or so, and Darwin had never really stopped to look around and pay all that attention to the background. Still, he can tell things have changed – a new restaurant here, a redesigned business there – and he finds it oddly disquieting.

It's a five minute drive to the old Xavier mansion, which makes it twenty minutes to walk. Alex stays quiet during the entire thing, and Darwin isn't sure if it's nerves, exhaustion, or something worse.

"You know how to get in?" Alex finally asks, as they're on the final stretch of the walk, the mansion rising up before them.

"Charles has told me his security codes," Darwin replies. It's not quite the right answer, but Charles had been genuine when he said that Darwin could crash at any residence of his whenever he needed it. They reach the front door, and Darwin finds the hidden security panel, and punches in Charles's second favorite PIN. 4265.

The light flashes red a few times.

Darwin tries Charles's third favorite PIN. 2539.

The light flashes red a few times more, this time accompanied by a beep.

"You sure you know how to get in?" Alex asks, shifting from foot to foot. "I don't think I could handle police right now."

Darwin nods. "I understand." He had thought it would be the second one, and he finds himself genuinely surprised that he had gotten it wrong. He's torn between trying one more time, or giving in and calling Charles. From what he knows, Charles has become an early riser as of late, though Darwin doesn’t think he rises quite this early.

The chance is taken out of his hands by the distant sound of footsteps.

Darwin takes a step back down a stair.

"Everything alright?" Alex asks, as he follows suit.

"It's better than the police, but you're not going to be happy," Darwin replies.

A few seconds later, the door opens, and Hank's face appears in the crack. His eyes widen when he sees them, and then the door is fully opened. "Armando? Alex?"

"Morning, Hank," Darwin replies, easily.

"Are you two okay?" Hank asks, looking between them. "It's not even six in the morning."

"We didn't know you would be here," Darwin evades. "Sorry to wake you. You can go back to sleep, if you'd like. We know our way around here."

"I was just dozing through an experiment calibration I shouldn't've been dozing through. I should be thanking you for waking me up." He steps back, and lets them through.

By now, the exhaustion has hit Alex, and Darwin wraps his arm around Alex's shoulders, steadying him. "We were just going to crash here for a few hours, and then we wanted to stroll around the grounds. I think we'll be able to stay out of your way, but tell us if we're imposing on you."

"No, you're fine," Hank says, as he trails behind Darwin. "I mean, I come out here in part because I like a bit of time to myself, but also Charles... some weekends he has visitors, and it's just..."

Darwin laughs. "Charles sexiles you from the brownstone?"

Hank flushes, and shrugs. "I don't mind."

"Well, you should tell us which room is yours, because I don't want to do the same."

"You two are back together?" Hank asks, with a surprise in his tone that has Alex tensing up. Hank seems to sense it, because he adds, "I'm glad to hear it. And I usually stay in my lab, or the closest room, and you two are heading in the opposite way, so it should all be good. Just, uh, call if you need anything, and you can't find it?"

"Will do. Thanks, Hank."

Hank just gives an awkward wave, then turns and scurries off.

The sun will be rising soon, and so Darwin leads Alex towards a room in the southwest wing where he knows there are blackout curtains. He lets go of Alex, and heads to the windows, and pulls the curtains shut. Most light is shut out, but Darwin’s sight adjusts to the faint halo of light, as well as the ambient light that bleeds in from the hallway.

Alex is standing listless in the middle of the room.

Darwin walks back over to him, and, standing toe to toe, pushes off Alex's leather jacket, and tosses it over the nearest chair. Then he moves Alex so he turn, and marches him back towards the bed. Alex sits down, and stares down as Darwin reaches down to untie his shoes, and flings them across the room. A moment later, Darwin sheds his own jacket and shoes, likewise throwing them away from the bed.

Alex stands without prompting, and Darwin pulls the sheets down for a moment, before he pulls Alex onto the bed with him.

It takes a few shifting moments for them to get comfortable, before they settle, Alex mostly on top of Darwin. Darwin feels Alex sigh against his throat. "How long do you think we should sleep?"

"A few hours." Darwin needs to get back to his job as soon as he can – the day unofficially starts at eleven, and Darwin could make it. He just doesn’t want to. If they sleep for three hours, that takes them to just after eight. A little over an hour for Alex's personal revelation, that takes them to just after ten, and the ride back will take them a bit past eleven, but it's as quickly as he should be able to manage.

He smiles, and they drift to sleep.

Darwin's phone goes off, vibrations humming loudly in the silence of the room. He quickly climbs out of bed, and blinks in the dark of the room, adjusting to the bright light of his phone.

It's Moira.

It's also half-past eleven.

Darwin steps in to the hallway, and answers the call. "Hey, Moira," he says, in the cheeriest voice he can manage. The hallway is dim as well, and Darwin looks around to see that the windows in this hallway have been covered up. He's pretty sure they hadn't been like that when he and Alex came in. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" Moira asks.

"Westchester."

“What? Why?” Her voice is considerably softer as she asks, "Everything alright?"

"Alex isn't," Darwin says. "We're... I'm trying..."

"Are you going to make it in today?"

"Not before noon, and not before lunch at four," he says. After a moment, he sighs. "I think it would be best to just pull me out of the roster for today, say I'm not coming in."

Moira makes a mildly annoyed sigh on the other end of the phone.

"I would hope that you would appreciate me not stringing you along?" Darwin says, with a winning smile that he knows Moira can imagine.

"I appreciate a lot about you. I would certainly appreciate in the future if you would give me a heads up as soon as you can."

"Of course."

"If we need you, when can we call you?"

"Two in the afternoon. If there's anything you need, I'll tell Alex that I'll need to turn my phone on then."

"Thanks," Moira says. "I have a meeting I need to get to. We'll talk later." She hangs up unceremoniously.

Darwin goes back to the room, and crawls back into bed. His phone goes off again. Hope Alex is okay.

"What time is it?" Alex asks, groggy.

Darwin flicks his phone onto silent. "11:37."

"Fuck," Alex says, into Darwin's shoulder. "You're missing work."

"I called out."

Alex punches him lightly in the shoulder. "I told you not to miss work."

Darwin rubs his arm up and down Alex's back. "Do you know the last time I took a vacation was?"

“No…?”

"Neither do I," Darwin replies. "I've been going almost nonstop at work. I enjoy it, mostly, but I'm tired. I wanted to sleep, so I slept. I made my own choices. And yes, you factored in, I know you said you wouldn't mind being woken up, but I didn't want to have an early morning." He looks down at Alex. "It's good to wake up like this, again."

Alex leans in, and presses a chaste kiss against the corner of Darwin's mouth.

Darwin smiles. "I missed this."

"Me too," Alex mumbles.

Darwin pulls himself out of bed. "You ready, then?"

"Not really," Alex says, as he gets out of bed, and searches for his shoes and jacket. "Though I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be ready for."

Darwin slowly puts on his shoes. "I wanted to head down to the old bunker."

Alex goes tense. "Why?"

"I’ll tell you why if you don't interrupt me."

Alex nods.

"You're still carrying around a lot of guilt and fear from the last time your plasma came in contact with me. And so I want you to attack me. I know," he says loudly, as Alex opens his mouth, "that the idea of it has gotta terrify you, but I know the limits of my mutation. I know I can survive it."

A long silence stretches between them.

"I'm asking you to trust me, Alex."

Alex nods, wordlessly.

Darwin lets out a sigh of relief. It’s a three minute walk down to the bunker, Alex's heart pumping a sharp count of every half-second.

After seeing the changes to the town, the slight changes to the household, it's eerie to see that nothing has changed in the bunker. Even the same old half-burnt mannequin is in the storage area off to the side.

Darwin ignores the mannequin, and starts to the middle of the bunker.

"Wait, Darwin–" Alex says, hand shooting out to catch Darwin by the elbow.

Darwin waits, and turns around.

"Before we do this – if we're going to do this," Alex says, his gaze going sharp, "I need you to tell me something."

Darwin nods. "Anything."

"What did it feel like?"

Darwin looks Alex up and down. He steps back, then, and rests his weight on the heels of his feet, shrugging his hands into his jacket pockets. He looks up at the top of the bunker, before closing his eyes, trying to remember the feeling of the plasma beams coursing through him. "Do you remember..." he starts.

Alex is watching him attentively.

"Do you remember our first week out here?" Darwin asks. Alex just stares at him. "It was a long weekend, about halfway into our first semester. I took some time off, after secondary school, trying to figure out what I wanted to do before I went to uni. I was a freshman, like you all, but most of you were just fresh from home and secondary school. First time you were all able to really let loose, enjoying being out of the house, free to be yourselves. There was a lot of drinking, a lot of slacking off. Charles didn't mind – he knew all that we did, but turned a blind eye to what he saw as the harmless teenage rebellion. But Erik wasn't happy with it all. He drank sometimes, back then, and never quite managed to slack off, but he bitched about how at least he could stay in shape.

“The first time we were brought here, sometime in mid-October, Erik threw a pair of sweats at each of us, and told us that if we didn't meet him outside in fifteen minutes, he was going to talk Charles into failing us all. We all knew Charles wouldn't, but Raven was still infatuated with Erik at this point, and she talked Angel into changing, Angel talked me into it, I talked you into, you talked Sean into it, and we all talked Hank into it. Erik ran us ragged. Sprints to figure out our limits, and then he carefully pushed us all back up to it. Mid-October, in the morning, in a chilly year, with the skies overcast. We all complained how it was freezing cold as we ran two laps around the mansion. After those two laps, we were herded back into the mansion, and we congregated in one of the living rooms. We all flopped down onto the couches and chairs. Hank concerned about getting sweat on the upholstery, Raven told him not to worry about it, they could get a maid service to clean it out. You were all panting. I was pretending to. We all knew each other's powers, but only Charles really understood the extent of my mutation. I could adapt to anything – running a few miles was nothing. Charles holds a double major in bio, he understands everything going on my body physically, but all I knew was that I could adapt to run in anaerobic situations, and I didn't feel it like you all did. Charles thinks that Erik planned the trip as such – halfway into the semester, we all knew each other pretty well, but Charles was afraid that we weren't really a unit, a team, not like he wanted us to be.

“For the first time, though, we were all on the same page, complaining. You were all going on about how it felt like your muscles were on fire, you could barely move, you were in so much pain. It was an exaggeration, to some extent, but you felt the burn. A few minutes in, Erik came in, and cranked up the heater. We all said that it was cold outside but we were still warm, we didn't need the heat on with our sweats on. He said we were loose and limber and ready for the next round, and he didn't want our muscles to cool down. There was more groaning, especially as the heat kicked in. You, especially, seemed to dislike it. You complained about the heat pressing in on you, everyone was saying they were claustrophobic, almost, with the way the heat pressed up against every part of them. You were tired, you were hot, and you were sore. And that's what it felt like. I absorbed your energy, Alex, and it didn't kill me. It may have killed me, briefly," Darwin amends, "but it was like being in the living room here in the mansion. I absorbed your power, and I was tired, I was hot, and I was sore. It's nothing I would opt to feel of my own accord, but Erik kept bringing us down for Saturday morning jogs, and after a few weeks Sean talked about how he didn't even feel the burn anymore. He got stronger, he overcame the discomfort. And it was discomfort – not pain."

Alex stays silent.

Darwin walks back over to him. He puts his hands on Alex's shoulders, and squeezes slightly. "I won't push you into this if you don't want to do, but Alex, trust me. You're not going to kill me."

Alex watches with fearful eyes as Darwin steps back, and takes his prior spot at the end of the bunker.

He waits.

Alex makes the movements of starting the kind of hula hoops of plasma, but he falters a few times. He's visibly shaken, and Darwin is about to call the entire thing off, when Alex raises his hand, and shoots it out at Darwin.

A plasma beam accompanies it, and Darwin takes a step back as the beam catches his shoulder. His vision goes hazy for a moment, as the July afternoon heat of when they first all met –one of the hottest on record, humid and uncomfortable with unknown classmates in the one classroom with a broken A/C unit – hits his shoulder and tingles down his arm. His arm is covered in a thin glowing film, and Darwin finds it fascinating to stare at for a few moments. It passes, then, the glow fading with the heat. Darwin takes in a deep breath, and smiles. He look up at Alex, who is watching him intently. Darwin waves. Then, says, "Harder."

Alex sighs.

Darwin spreads his arms wide. "I told you then – give me your worst, I can adapt to it. Hit me harder."

It takes him a few tries, but Alex gathers himself, and sends a hula hoop of plasma towards Darwin.

Darwin's hit full in the torso, and the warmth of July is nothing against the oppressive heat of August afternoons, spreading like wildfire across his torso, up his neck and down his chest, racing across his skin. His vision goes red then white then black, as he's falling through the summer months until–

black and red and

Sebastian Shaw terrifies Darwin.

It’s his role in the Genoshan Genocides. It’s the way he terrifies Erik.

It’s the way he charms everyone he meets into allies; It’s how he has amassed a bevy of the most powerful mutants even when half of them hate him.

It’s the way he smiles at Darwin.

Darwin is stronger than Shaw, though. He knows he is. He has to be.

The red of Alex’s plasma bursts is pulsing between Shaw’s fingers, white light and dark shadows flashing across his face. “Adapt to this,” he tells Darwin.

‘Okay,’ Darwin thinks.

glowing all over

– November hits him hard in the back, and he gasps awake. His eyes snap open, and he’s staring up at the ceiling and Alex's panicked face. "How long was I out?" he asks, his voice sounding faint.

Alex startles at his voice, and doesn't move, looks too petrified to move. "Thirty… thirty…”

“Seconds, minutes?”

“Se-seconds."

Darwin nods. He pushes himself up, wincing as he does.

Alex scrambles back up, and extends a hand down to help Darwin onto his feet.

Darwin sways only once, which he finds remarkable under the circumstances. Alex has grown stronger in the past four years. But he's still here. He regains his balance, and spreads his arms open. “See?”

Alex's expression is still panicked and pinched, but there's something about him that's looser than it was before. "I thought – you just stood there, glowing, like last time, and when you started to fall, I thought I–" Darwin doesn't want him to, but he lets Alex finish with a tight, "I thought I killed you."

"And I'm sorry to keep rubbing your face in it, but you were wrong," Darwin tells him. "You didn't kill me then, you didn't kill me just now. Your power, my power... they cancel each other out. Sure, I'll wind up on my back after an attack, but I will survive. You're not going to kill me, Alex. You can stop acting like I'm going to break every time you touch me."

Alex closes his eyes, his head dropping. "I wish I could say the same," he says, voice rough. "Ever since you found out that I was deployed… I wish I could say that I wasn't, but I'm just as worried as you are."

Darwin steps forward, and pulls him into his arms. "It's okay, Alex," he says to the side of his neck. "It's okay to need help, it's okay to ask for help. It's what all the services are for, it's what I'm here for."

Alex reaches up, and balls his hands up in the back of Darwin's shirt. "I think I need it," he says, voice catching.

"Then we'll get it for you," Darwin says. "But right now, I want to head back upstairs into the room, and sleep. If Hank weren't here, possibly a bit more. Maybe we can talk him into a grocery run."

Alex huffs a laugh. "He would know what you really wanted. He would blush, too, for the next week. It would be pretty funny."

Darwin finally pulls back. "Half tempted to do it now, just to see if he could really blush for a week." Just to see Alex laugh.

"I'm pretty sure he was blushing constantly when he was still into Raven."

"Ah, the days of our youth," Darwin says, only a touch joking. He doesn't know all what happened between Hank and Raven, only what happened was what didn't happen, as far as he knows. He slings an arm around Alex's shoulders, and starts steering him to the door from the bunker, and then up the stairs to the mansion proper.

It's grown lighter outside, and it's coming through Hank's makeshift black-out curtains.

"What time is it?" Alex asks.

"I don't know, and I don't particularly care. I've told Moira I'd be out today, and I plan on enjoying my day off. And we've got time before we have to head back for your job."

years old blue

From Westchester, it's two hours to the nearest New Amsterdam metropolitan area subway station, and after that, the best route to take to Nieuw Amstel University is through the Roz line, where Raven loiters, pacing around, changing identities every time the crowd pushes together close enough where she's obscured from the cameras.

She’s posing as the hybrid between three different bankers when she sees Hank. At quarter until seven, he’s perfectly on time, and Raven hangs back a few moments before she follows him up the stairwell to the street, others crowding around them. She slips into a college student that Raven saw once – an androgynous female, features changed so she won’t be mistaken for someone she is not – and keeps her umbrella low to obscure her face when Hank glances behind every few blocks.

Hank keeps walking past the Leeuwenhoek Science Building, and Raven know she’s been made. He goes two blocks past before he slows to a stop. “Good morning, Raven.”

Raven morphs back into her default blonde form. “Morning, Hank.”

He startles, and slowly turns back to look at her. He switches his umbrella over to his left hand, and raises his right hand to push his glasses back. “It’s nice to see you.”

Raven ignores the pang that statement creates, and she gives a small smile back. “It’s been a while.”

The small barb does not go unnoticed, Raven knows. He doesn’t remark on it though, only asks, “What do you want, Raven?”

Raven takes in a deep breath, letting it out through out of the side of her mouth. “I wanted to see you.”

“Really,” Hank says, obviously not buying it.

“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You and...”

“Charles is doing fine. He’s been emailing Darwin more often, and Alex has started texting him as well. He’s thrilled.”

Raven winces. “I hardly think they can keep up with him in a conversation regarding polyploidies, and I know for a fact that Charles has plenty of undergrad problems.” After a moment, she unnecessarily adds, “I’ve been following your Twitter.”

Hank gives a tight smile at that.

"Why are you following me, Raven?"

Raven stares at him, nervously readjusting her grip on her umbrella. She's nervous in a way she wishes she wasn't – a lot has happened since between them, and yet she still goes back to her awkward girlish crush on him. She looks at him in the eye. "You've been keeping up with the news, I presume."

Hank nods. "I hear about it from everyone, I have a huge conference coming up soon, and I really don't want to go into a political debate with you." He pauses. "Not that it would be a debate. No matter what you feel on Trask, I probably agree."

"He hunted mutants down," Raven says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Hank's expression shifts. "Oh," he says. "I'm okay," he says. Another moment, and he says, "I was more concerned about you. I figured – I was afraid – that you were at ground zero."

"I was the one who helped leak the story."

Hank frowns. "I was afraid of that." He takes a step forward. "Are you okay, Raven?"

"I can take care of myself," she says, and it comes out more tetchy than she planned.

His expression darkens. "You're not the only one."

"I was just afraid – with Trask's connections, that he may have known about us. That he may have hunted some of us down. Alex was at risk, being a homeless vet, when so many of the mutants were homeless vets–"

"Alex isn't homeless," Hank blurts out. He flushes. "He's living with Darwin now, I think. Their shoes smelled the same."

"Why did you smell their shoes?"

“With Alex it couldn’t be helped.”

“And Darwin?”

“Testing a hypothesis,” he replies, his voice serious, but his mouth twisting into a grin.

Raven laughs. When Hank fidgets, she asks, "Need to get in?"

"It's a really big conference coming up. And our presentation is solid, I know it is, but there are a lot of things I'm concerned about, and I have a few different drafts of grant letters to rewrite..."

She nods. "I'll let you go, then."

"Where are you heading?"

She wants to say nowhere and go to Hank's lab, she wants things to be easy between them like they once were. Hank can be funny, Hank can be entertaining, Hank just doesn't always know it himself. Instead, she lies, "I have a few more people to look after."

He nods. "Well, if you ever want to know where I am, you know how to find me."

"In the grad lab, hiding from the statistic undergrads."

"If you knew the trouble they get into, you wouldn't blame me." His phone starts buzzing, and he grabs at it. "Um, see you Raven."

He hurries off, and Raven watches him go.

gray clouds we're in

The day before an election is one of the busiest days at the MRC. The day before, the day of, the day after – it's a trifecta of stress and mutant hate crimes and small victories and legal issues and new legal rights.

This year, the Trask debacle has made it even worse.

Angel is only half a paralegal, but that doesn't seem to be entirely known, as she is given more to do with Vange as well as the rest of the MRC legal team, as well as gaining more small tasks given to her to be done amongst her legal obligations. There are ongoing memorial campaigns for the mutilated mutants from Trask.

It's crazy and hectic and Angel spends most of her time sending half-finished messages to Darwin, who helpfully tries to finish them for her, sometimes humorously, sometimes quickly and correctly.

There is going to be a lot of overtime for her, she knows, and she keeps her mind on that (maybe she'll treat herself to a new pair of boots– the fashionable kind, not the sensible kind in the three inches of snow that seem to cover New Amsterdam in its entirety during the winter.)

Angel is getting tired of the crisis mode they're in – Trask has been arrested, as have all the other medical professionals involved, there's no more risk for him to experiment on mutants.

But with any sort of crisis in their community comes a backlash, and there's an uptick in mutant hate crimes. An uptick in lawsuits, filed prejudicially against mutants, needing to be filled for hate crimes, and Angel can only get through so many cases before she needs to excuse herself to take a deep breath alone. It's stressful, and she's no stranger to stress, but this is of a different sort, and it gets under her skin in a way she wishes it wouldn't. She wants to go to Freddy’s studio, dance it all off.

"Como?" Janos asks during their lunch break.

Angel lets out a long sigh. "You?"

"Same," he says, lowly. He looks around, and then murmurs, "It's times like this when I want to go back to Erik's side."

Angel shakes her head. "As bad as things get, I just don't see eye to eye with him. As charismatic as he is," she adds, begrudgingly.

"He is very charismatic," Janos agrees.

They haven’t really talked about this, but Angel supposes this is as good a time as any. “When did you leave him?”

“When he stopped talking to me about Generation ‘27 poetry. You?”

When he stopped caring. "Same." There's a tension building – in the silence between her and Janos, in the space between her eyes and between her ribs – and so Angel asks, "What's Generation '27 poetry?"

A light enters Janos's eyes, and he begins half-lecturing her about Spanish poetry, piling recommendations on her, and reciting a few of his favorite lines.

The rest of her shift is a shit show, and the beauty of the words are the only thing that get her through it.

Still, Angel is in an irritable mood when she arrives at her apartment. She juggles the pizza box in one hand – her feel-good favorite of prosciutto, arugula, pine nuts and dates – and her keys in the other. It takes her a moment, but she's able to slide the key into the lock, and after a few ineffective twitches, she manages to open the door.

She stands in the doorway, and fights back the sudden paranoia that Erik may be further into her apartment. If it were Erik, she tells herself, he would be far more careful about leaving a trail.

She's still cautious, though, when she steps into the living room, and gives a sigh of relief when she sees Raven lounging on the couch alone.

Raven turns around at the house, and gives Angel a smile when she sees her. "Hey," she says.

"I brought dinner," Angel says, because she's a ball of conflicting nerves, and she's not exactly sure on how to go about interacting when all she wants to do is either cry in the shower or dance herself until she collapses.

Raven nods. "Want me to get plates?"

"I'm not above eating out of the box," Angel tells her, "but if you want to eat off a plate like a civilized person, be my guest."

Raven rolls her eyes. "I grew up in the Xavier household, being civilized was greatly encouraged. I rebelled against it whenever I could manage."

That explains Raven always eating out of the box and rubbing her hands on her jeans during their college years. As well as the look Charles would always send her.

Angel is about half a slice in, eyes glued to the small TV in the corner of the room, when Raven asks, "Do you trust me?"

It's entirely out of the blue, and Angel finds herself saying, "Yeah, why?"

"Stay still for a moment."

Angel stays still as Raven leaves the living room to the small kitchenette, and comes back down, and climbs onto the back of the couch. Angel’s hair is brushed to the side. She tenses when she feels Raven's hands on her neck.

"Relax," Raven says.

Angel makes herself relax as best she can, and then she feels Raven start to massage just below the nape of her neck. "Oh," she says, dropping her pizza back into the box, and dropping her head down to give Raven better access.

Raven takes advantage of it, her fingers tracing soothing patterns around Angel's neckline, while her thumbs dig into the knots that Angel didn't even know she had. "This would be better if you took your shirt off."

It takes Angel exactly two seconds to unbutton and fling off her shirt.

Another two seconds pass, and Angel turns around and looks up at Raven. Suddenly feeling the ache of her back, knots deep under her shoulder blades has made her impatient.

"Sorry," Raven says, a flush rising in her cheeks. "I just always forget how pretty your tattoos are."

Angel hums in reply, then faces forward. Compliments on her tattoos always make her feel slightly on edge.

"Sorry," Raven says, a moment later. "It's been awhile, I forgot you don't like talking about them."

Angel smiles slightly as her eyes slide closed. "No big deal," she replies.

"What's got you so upset, if you don't mind me asking?" Raven asks, a few minutes in.

Angel just lets out an aggravated sigh. "It's mostly the Frost case. We're nearing the appeal date, and Vange won't permit anything less than perfection, and she's double-checking the work I've already triple-checked and I know she's just doing her job, but it grates, and there are so many calls to field regarding booking Vange's time, booking Emma's time, some journalists even want to talk to me, and it's hard to balance. Especially when I'm trying not to give preferential attention to Moira's show, but Vange doesn't like the network, and I know I'm biased towards them, and Darwin is trying to be diplomatic when booking, and–"

"If you keep going at this pace, you're going to undo all my work," Raven interrupts, giving the back of Angel's neck a slight flick.

Angel gives a laugh, and swats behind her. "You asked."

"I did," Raven admits.

Angel goes quiet, and sure enough she feels the knots in her back, and she just sighs a bit. "And I was paranoid that Erik may have come by and stormed the apartment to see you."

Raven's hands still.

It's quiet for a long moment.

"He did," Raven says, finally.

Angel tenses up. She stays facing the couch. Raven reads expressions well, and Angel wants a moment to be unguardedly angry. A long breath in, and a long breath out. Angel shifts to the side, so she's looking up at Raven. A pulse of annoyance is radiating through her, and she manages to says, "Next time – though I hope there is no next time – you lead with that, got it?"

Raven nods. Her gaze is averted, and she's biting her lip.

"What did he want? What is going on between the two of you?"

Raven slides back down onto the couch. "It's complicated."

"It always has been."

Raven's eyes narrow. "With good reason. He's been through a lot."

"If I wanted a justification of his actions, I'd check the Brotherhood forum. What I want to know is why he broke into my home."

"He didn't break in. I let him in. He was worried for me," she adds, hurriedly.

"Why?" Angel repeats.

"It's been almost a week and a half since Trask's crimes have gone public. I disappeared after infiltrating my way into his offices."

"If Erik thought Trask got you, he would have brought the Trask Industries office building down to rubble."

"He was still worried about me. Erik has always been able to shut off his emotions. He knows that I can't do that. He guessed that I had some role in the news going public, and he wanted to see if I was okay."

Angel knows that Raven is not okay. "How was he?"

"He was… we were…"

Angel's insides recoil.

"He asked me to go back with him to the Brotherhood. Told me he hadn't replaced me, he was still down a trusted advisor. Offered to help me shield the pain, learn to close off my emotions better."

"That's why I left Erik," Angel says, her blood pounding in her ears. She pushes herself to her feet. "And that's why Janos left Erik. It's why the Brotherhood is dwindling down to nothing. Erik's great at not feeling things, and that can be great sometimes, but he takes it too far. His iron resolve is not always a good thing!"

"He feels things," Raven says, her voice going waspish as she stands up. "He just manages them closer than most people. If he didn't feel things, he wouldn't be as upset as he was when you left. Upset that you don't speak to him."

"I really don't care about how Lehnsherr feels."

"That's hypocritical."

"And coming from one of Erik's followers, that's rich."

"I'm not his follower," Raven snaps. "I can agree with parts of his arguments and beliefs without blindly following everything he does."

"But you're agreeing with a shitty part of his beliefs!"

"What, that it's better to keep yourself open to care about everything and be hurt by everything than to control yourself and your emotions?"

"He doesn't control himself, he closes himself off and shuts himself away from the world and from the mutant community! He's too afraid of caring that he makes himself not care."

"So what's the alternative?" Raven asks. "Care about everything? Care about every slight and ever injustice and vocally devote yourself to it? If that were the case, you would be part of the Omegas."

"It's not an either-or question," Angel says. "You and Erik and Charles – you all think there is one way to go about doing this! And you are the most reasonable of them, you lack both of their major flaws, but there are still multiple answers to this question! One person's answer is not another person's answer, and as long as each is doing what they can in what they think is the best way, it doesn't matter! And the reason I'm not part of the Omegas is because I'm tired of being judged for everything I do and do not do. I want our rights, I want our freedom, I want to feel safe, but I am going to do it the way I think is best, and I'm tired of being judged for changing my answer on what the best way is."

Raven stares at her.

"I'm tired," Angel repeats.

"I think we all are," Raven replies.

Angel just rubs at her temples.

"I'm sorry if it ever seemed like I was judging you for how you fought for us."

"It's not you," Angel says. She sits back down heavily on the couch.

Raven tentatively sits down, keeping her distance. "One of the things I disagree with Erik about is the MRC. I think they do good work. You do good work there."

"Some days it feels like it. Some days it doesn't."

"And today?"

"Is the day before elections and that's always a shitty, stressful day." She lets out a long sigh. "I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"I snapped back. Erik has a way of causing arguments."

Angel lets out a huff of a laugh. "Not that I don't disagree, I don't want to spend any more time talking about Erik. I want to eat pizza, try and relax, try and recharge, and hope that tomorrow goes well."

Raven leans forward and grabs two pieces of pizza. She leans back into the couch, and hands one over.

Angel takes the slice, and takes a large bite.

"This pizza is really good, by the way," Raven says, with a tentative smile.

Angel smiles back, and relaxes into her seat. "It really is," she says, before taking another bite.

polls close at seven

There are 27 emails waiting for her the next morning. One is from Charles, inviting her to a polls-viewing party. On a whim, she accepts the invitation.

Charles is thrilled. He informs her that Darwin will also be in attendance, and his reply contains a number of exclamation points.

It’s the only thing keeping her through the day, which she leaves as soon as she can.

Angel glances down at the screen, and answers, “Bueno.”

“Where are you going?” Janos asks. “We’re not heading out for a few minutes more.”

“Heading out where?”

“You didn’t hear? Vange is hosting a viewing party of the election results. She said she wants to either celebrate with us, or make sure that we don’t do anything stupid.”

"She's just protecting her pro bono schedule," Angel says, not sure how much she's joking.

"Maybe, but she's supplying alcohol."

She laughs. “Compelling, but I have other plans.”

"Oh?"

"Xavier's hosting his own viewing party."

"You still talk to Xavier?" Janos asks.

"Not really. But I figure…"

Angel doesn't exactly know what she figures, but Janos hums on the other end of the line. "I understand," he says, quietly. "Have fun."

She stops by her apartment, changing out of her skirt and blouse combo and into a pair of jeans with a halter top.

"Plans?" Raven asks, watching as Angel shoves on a pair of rain boots.

"Charles invited me to view the poll results at his brownstone." She looks at Raven. "You want to come with?"

Raven looks at the floor.

"I don't know if Charles invited you, but I'm pretty sure he'd be happy if you came along either way."

"Probably," Raven agrees, quietly. She sighs, and pushes herself to her feet. "Sure."

Angel wasn't actually expecting Raven to agree, and it's a quiet subway ride and walk to Charles's new apartment. At first Raven seems entirely at ease, but by the time they're riding up the elevator, Raven is fidgeting.

Angel shoots her a sympathetic look. "Don't worry," she says. "It's just you and me and Darwin and Charles."

Raven lets out a long breath. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."

The doors open, and they make their way down the hallway, towards the apartment at the end.

Angel's barely knocked before Charles's voice calls, "Come in!"

Raven tenses. "I don't know if I want to be here," she tells Angel.

"Then don't come in," Angel replies, before opening the door and stepping into Charles's apartment. "Damn, Xavier," she says, looking around. "Swag flat as always."

Charles lets out a laugh at that, as he wheels himself over to her. "It's lovely to see you, Angel," he tells her, holding an arm out for a one-armed hug.

He's always been tactile, and Angel is glad to go into his arms, squeezing him as tightly as she can. A moment after she straightens up, Darwin wraps his arms around her, voice in her ear as he says, "Hey, gorgeous."

Angel bursts out laughing. "Hey, you," she tells him, turning to look at him. And then she freezes. Beyond Darwin is Alex. She stays still for a moment, thinking absurd comments that Charles would tease her for (I would do no such thing his voice murmurs) such as if she stays still, maybe Alex won't notice her. A few heartbeats, and then Angel manages a smile, though she doubts the sincerity. "Hey, Alex."

His shoulders are tense, and his mouth is in a tight line. "Hey," he says, finally.

"And what am I?" Raven calls out.

Alex's eyes widen. "Raven," he says. "I didn't know you were coming."

Raven waltzes her way over to Alex, and pulls him into a hug, which quickly turns into a headlock. "That's not a very nice way to greet someone you haven't seen in years," she tells him. "How long have you been back?"

"If I say two days, will you let me go?" Alex asks.

"Two days is plenty of time to have come visited me," Raven tells him.

"I've only been back for five minutes."

Raven lets out a laugh, and releases him. "Liar," she tells him, as she presses a kiss to his cheek.

He grimaces.

Darwin releases Angel, and makes his way over to Raven, holding out his arms. "It's good to see you, Raven."

Raven gives him a wide smile, and a moment later she ripples into him. "It's good to see you too, Darwin," she says, in Darwin's tenor.

Darwin laughs, but grabs Raven and pulls her into a hug.

"So how long are we going to be ignoring the fact that the news is going to be broadcasting the election results?" Alex asks.

"A little bit longer, hopefully," Darwin says. "I'm enjoying myself."

Angel lets out a laugh at that – mixing along with Raven posing as Darwin. "I've always told you that you were a good hugger."

"I really am," Darwin says, before he eventually pulls back.

Angel turns back to Charles. "Anyone else unexpected going to turn up to this shindig?" she asks. She thinks of fall trees, and then she thinks, I'm thinking of Erik.

"I do not believe so," Charles says, "but I keep my door open to anyone, so we may have guests we did not know about."

Angel nods at that.

"Do you have snacks?" Raven asks.

Charles lets out a soft laugh at that. "No, Raven," he tells her. "I specifically made sure that I had no food in my flat."

Raven rolls her eyes, but she heads into the kitchen. "Who's drinking what?"

"Depends on how the polls go," Angel calls back. She looks to Charles as she throws herself onto one of his couches. "What's the hardest liquor you've got here?"

"I should have some tequila…"

"It better not be that cheap tequila from junior year," Raven says.

"I'll take a beer," Darwin calls.

"Why?" Angel asks. "You finally able to get drunk?"

"Nah, I've just grown fond of the taste."

"You don't drink beer for the taste," Alex says.

Angel makes a face. "What he said."

"I'm surprised Sean isn't here," Raven says, making her way back into the living room. She has a platter in each hand, one with the booze, one with snacks.

“He is practicing for his recital tomorrow evening. Are you all attending?”

“I got tickets a few weeks back,” Darwin says.

Charles turns to Angel and Raven. “Would either of you care to attend? I can comp your tickets?”

“And you didn’t comp Darwin’s?” Angel asks, in the most scandalous tone she can manage.

Charles chuckles. “Next time,” he tells Darwin. “I always have a few spare comps.”

“Hank?” Raven guesses.


Charles nods. “He comes to every few recitals."

"Where's he tonight?" Darwin asks.

"He has a conference coming up, and he fears he will not be ready in time.”

"How much does he actually have left to do, then?" Angel asks.

"I have not been kept up to speed on the project, but judging on his prior performances, I would say his presentation is already at a caliber where it could be presented and still be meters above the rest."

"He just doesn't like getting involved with politics," Raven says. "He was probably intimidated by the idea of having to watch you and me rail against any bad news."

"There's no way the polls are going to go badly, though," Darwin says. "Not with Trask. Every bigoted fucker who was backed by him has been seeing their numbers drop. It's going to be a blow-out for mutant rights."

"When did you start swearing?" Raven asks, incredulously.

"When an anonymous source came to me with with a file on Trask."

"Who was it?" Alex asks.

Darwin flicks his forehead. "I just said it was an anonymous source. Besides, I don't even know her name."

"Her name is Cecilia Reyes," Raven says, quietly.

Everyone turns to look at her.

"She was Trask's secretary. She's one of us. She only manifested a few weeks ago. She's a telepath." To Charles, she says, "I gave her your number."

"I will look forward to her call," Charles replies, in the same soft murmur.

Angel had not know that part. Judging by the look on his face, neither had Darwin.

"I really wish I could get drunk right now," Darwin says, voice quiet, awed.

Angel reaches forward and grabs her drink. "We'll take care of that for you."

Raven brushes at her eyes. "Yeah," she says. Despite the pinched expression on her face, she seems less tense than she has the past few days.

Darwin takes control of the television, while every one settles into their seats.

Raven sits down next to Angel. "Her secret was too much to carry," she says. "And the idea that she went through that horror, and that it may have been for nothing…"

"Don't worry," Angel says. "It's going to be okay."

It's going to be okay.

sonata for cello and wind chimes

Angel is in one of her favorite black dresses, with the nice scoop back that shows off her tats, with her favorite black leather jacket to cover it up.

She’s glad she has, because the venue is rather high-end looking.

Raven doesn't even seem phased to pass around women in evening gowns and men in well-tailored tuxedos, despite being her knee-length navy dress being plain in comparison. Quietly, she tells Angel, "This wasn't the crowd I was expecting for Sean's recital."

"That's because all the mutants didn't book this night in case they had to riot," Angel replies under her breath.

Having had bought their tickets ahead of time, Darwin and Alex are sitting closer to the seat. They'd agreed to meet up during intermission. With Charles's comped tickets, Angel and Raven are in the fourth row from the back, tucked over to the far right.

Raven has been making a serious of expressions as they've waited for the show to start, and finally Raven asks, "What are you…?"

"Sorry," she says. She taps her temple. "Charles."

"Tell him I say hi," Angel replies.

The lights dim, and the auditorium hushes.

Sean steps onto the stage. There’s applause. When he reaches center-stage, he clasps his hands together, raises them over his head, shaking them. Laughter reply.

A screen appears behind him, and a presentation starts, where he introduces himself, his story, how he lost his ability to speak in battle. It ends with an Enough of that! and chuckles through the audience as he pulls his cello out of its case.

He starts with Bach. It flows into transcribed versions of rock songs, intertwining with classical music.

This isn't the Sean that Angel remembers, not a talent that Angel ever thought Sean would become interested in, but the humor is still the same. It's still Sean.

The first half ends to applause, lights returning to full brightness for intermission.

"There's something wrong," Raven tells Angel as they make their way into the lobby.

Angel feels her body shift into defensive mode as she looks around for a source of danger. "What is?" she murmurs.

Raven swallows. "Charles told me that he overheard part of a conversation," she says. "There's someone here who shouldn't be here."

Angel's heart starts to hammer in her chest. Telepathy and crime is a hot issue – especially with Emma’s public announcement the other morning that she was moving forward with appeals. "What do we do about it?"

"Charles thinks we should look upstairs."

"What do we do so this doesn't go back to Charles after?" Angel asks.

Raven leans in and presses her lips to Angel.

Angel goes still. It's been far too long since they did this.

Raven pulls back, after a beat, and looks around. There's a coy light in her eyes as she says, "Let's go somewhere a little more private. I didn't see too many people on the balcony…"

Angel lets Raven grab her hand, and start tugging her up towards the stairs.

They've been circling this, Angel thinks. Not just some mutantphobe who has unsavory plans for a mutant-musician's recital, but the kiss. Her and Raven only flitted and flirted around each other – Raven still had Erik in some ways, and Angel felt safe with Darwin. But this is something she's always wanted, something she's wanted since before and after that game of hide and seek.

It's for a cover, but Angel reaches her hand up, cups Raven's cheek, presses up against her, kisses her.

When Raven pulls back, she's panting, her lips are a bright red and she has an amazed expression on her face. But she blinks and it's gone, and she's looking over Angel's shoulder. Her expression morphs into a girlish sheepishness. "Oh sorry," she calls out. "I didn't see you there."

Angel turns around. There's a guy sitting in the middle of the balcony seats, glaring at them. There is nothing distinct about him. Just another mutantphobe, Angel thinks.

"Leave," he tells them.

Raven crosses her arms. "What, you got a problem with lesbians?"

"I don't care what you two do in your bedroom."

"But you do care about we do on a balcony?"

"Are we even allowed to be up here?" Angel asks nervously. When she and Raven have been caught during recon in the past, Angel usually took the brash role, not the meek one. It's a strange adjustment.

The guy stands up, and makes his way down the row. He can't know they're mutants, but still, there's a menacing air around him. "I got permission from the manager," he tells them. "I'm up here by special permission. You do not have it. Get out."

"Sheesh," Raven says. "What manager can give you special permission?"

"He's the guy who runs everything, gets everything settled to Mr. Cassidy's request."

"Yeah?" Raven replies, her hands going to her hips. "What's his name?"

"Willem. Now get out of here. Intermission is almost over."

"We should go," Angel says, hooking her hand around Raven's elbow, and pulling her.

"Listen to your friend."

"Girlfriend," Raven says, and Angel's fingers grip tightens for a moment. "What part of lesbians didn't you get?"

"I hope you two enjoy the rest of the concert," the man says, with a forced politeness.

Angel pulls at Raven, who goes stony-faced as soon as they're out of sight. "It's him," Raven murmurs, scarcely audible.

They make their way back down to the lobby, and then Raven marches over to the nearest usher. "Excuse me, who is the manager of this facility?"

The usher looks alarmed. "There are a few. Is there anything I may help you with, Miss?"

"There's a guy up in the balcony who said he was allowed by special permission to be up there by the manager."

The alarm turns to suspicion. "As it were, Mr. Xavier actually explicitly stated that the balcony was to remain unoccupied." He pulls out a walkie, and requests for security to check the balcony.

"The guy up there was really rude," Angel says, as petulantly as she can manage.

Raven turns to look at her, fighting a smile.

It's been a while since she had to be convincing under a cover.

The usher looks at them suspiciously. "What were you doing up there?"

"Looking for some privacy," Raven says. When the usher opens his mouth, Raven repeats, "What, you got a problem with lesbians?"

The usher startles. "Uh, no. No, not at all. Uh, intermission is going to be ending soon, you may want to return to your seats."

Intermission doesn't end soon. It drags on for about ten minutes more, and Raven and Angel spend it sipping at champagne at the bar in the lobby, chatting with Alex and Darwin.

When the lights start flickering, Angel starts towards the doors to the auditorium, but Raven reaches out and grabs her elbow, and tugs her off to the side.

Towards the stairs.

"We're not allowed to go up there without special permission," Angel says, as sweetly as she can.

"And I got it from Mr. Xavier, the manager," Raven replies. Her bravado falters for a moment. "Unless you want to go back to our old seats. I just thought…"

"It'll be nice up in the balcony," Angel says. "Less people around, less background noise, it'll be easier to appreciate the music."

They go up to the second row back from the edge of the balcony. Raven goes in the seats first, and Angel follows her. They sit in the middle, with Sean directly in front of them, unlike their seats towards the back and the right.

Raven turns and leans in, and kisses Angel.

Angel smiles against Raven's mouth.

Applause fills the air.

They pull back, startled, and Angel finds herself looking down, to make sure that they weren't being watched.

They weren't. Instead, Sean has made his way back onto the stage, stepping into the spotlight. He pulls his phone out, and a moment later, a message pops up on the projector screen. Sorry about the wait! He puts his phone away, only to bring it back out a moment later. Phones off, please!

Chuckles. Phones are turned off in the audience, people shift to get comfortable in their seats. Angel takes her jacket off, and lays it over the two seats to her side, and she settles in.

Raven reaches over and takes Angel's hand, and Angel intertwines her fingers in with Raven's.

Angel's heels pinch her toes, but Raven's hand is warm against hers. She's unhappy that they were interrupted, but there's time for that later.

The deep melody of the cello floats through the air, nestling comfortably in Angel's chest.

the city never sleeps at night

Darwin smiles when he sees Angel and Raven enter Vic's.

Angel sits down first, Raven after her, wrapping her arm around the back of Angel's chair.

Darwin catches the movement, and smiles.

Alex looks startled.

"Any way we can get you off early?" Raven asks.

Angel and Darwin snort in unison, while Alex rolls his eyes.

"Nope," he says. "I'm the only server–"

"Meg's off," Darwin says.

"Meg always likes Thursday nights off."

"But she took last night off, and I'm sure she'd be happy to pick up some more hours."

"Why are you texting my coworker?" Alex asks.

"She gave me her number during the final days of elections, and we've been chatting since. She's my third most texted number, after you and Angel."

Darwin gets out his phone. "Let's see if she's willing to take it over."

Raven gets out her phone, starts texting as well.

Alex looks at Angel.

She shrugs.

"Sean should be here soon," Raven announces.

"Why did you invite Sean?" Alex asks.

"How did you get his number?" Angel asks.

Darwin's phone chirps. "Meg's on her way."

"Because it's been forever since we've seen him." A wicked smile spreads across Raven's face. "And you know what else we haven’t done in years?”

“We’re not crashing Hank’s apartment,” Darwin says.

“We don’t know where he lives,” Alex adds.

“I do,” Raven says.

Alex seems to consider it.

“So we wait for Meg to get here and take over your shift, get Hank, go out dancing and drinking,” Angel says.

“It’s Thursday night,” Alex says. “We have jobs.”

“Yours is a late start, Darwin can adapt to no sleep, and if Angel had a problem, she wouldn’t’ve suggested it.” Raven turns to Angel. "Right?"

“Right.”

“Doesn’t Hank have a conference coming up soon?” Darwin asks.

“Charles said he already has it finished. He probably doesn't start the presentations tomorrow, and even if he did, that would just be more reason to take him out,” Angel says. “You remember how nervous he got before any presentation.”

The bell rings, and Sean strolls into the diner. He waves at everyone, hugs Angel, then high-fives Raven. He pulls out his phone and texts What's up, what're we doing?

“Kidnapping Hank and going partying,” Alex says.


Sean gives a big thumbs up. Then he takes a step back and gestures towards the door.

"We're waiting for a server to cover Alex's shift," Raven says.

Sean nods. He points to himself and points to the kitchen.

"Yeah, Morty's the night line-cook."

Sean nods, then heads into the kitchen.

"Is he allowed to do that?" Angel asks.

"It's Sean," Alex says. "He's not allowed to do half the shit he does. He just does it anyways."

Meg comes in.

“Let me go clock out,” Alex says. A minute later, he comes back out with Sean – sipping on a milkshake – in tow.

“Where did you get a milkshake?” Angel asks.

“Milkshake place down the street,” Alex says, in a deadpan.

Angel flips him off. "And what, you didn't offer any to us?"

"You were sitting here, you could have ordered something."

Raven has her phone to her ear, and she gestures for them all to be quiet. After a few moments, she says, "Hey, Hank. Yes, I know how to tell time, so I know what time it is. Did I wake you up, or were you still up?” A beat. She looks around at everyone. “You were still up?” she asks. "How long were you planning on being up?"

Angel can't help but smile.

"Oh, no reason," Raven tells Hank, her voice sweet and innocent.

Darwin is shaking his head, and Alex has his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing.

Raven hangs up on Hank. "You all ready to go?"

Sean gives another thumbs up.

Raven smiles, and links arms with Angel and Alex, who link arms with Darwin and Sean. “Then let’s go.”

believe me when I say
 I wouldn’t
 have it
 any other way