[debut]
They've begged her to stay, Charles and Sean have, and between the two of them, it's almost impossible to refuse. In her way, Moira's loved them both and she hates to tell them no, but it's not the simple matter they seem to think it is, staying here. Everyone knows, every last person in the mansion knows what happened up there, that it's all her fault. Even if they didn't, she would still know, and that's as bad as it needs to be to seem unbearable. She's not okay and no one can expect her to be; it's not reasonable to ask that she be alright in the face of what's happened, what she's done.
It seems such a long time ago, a mistake made in her foolish youth, when it really hasn't been that many years at all since she had Magneto in her care and chose to alter his genetic code. He was only a child at the time, an innocent young thing, and she'd thought she'd done it for his own good -- just a little tampering to change him for the better, to give him the opportunity to use his second chance at life more wisely, more kindly. Her hands still, caught in a tangle of fabric, the dress she's folding to take away with her. It was easy back then to make the choice. Kevin was still alive; there was still a hope he might be saved with what she learned from her work with Magneto. How easily blinded she was by a mother's love, how little it had meant in the end. Bad enough that she should have let herself be led astray like that, but to put herself in the position she was in not long before, allowing Magneto to force her to do the same thing to the X-Men -- even if the alterations were unsuccessful, she's still experimented on her friends, her family, people she's sworn to protect. She still led them to turn on each other, however briefly.
It's impossible to look at them and not recall what she's put them through, and when she walks down the hall to the foyer to find Scott standing there with Xavier beside him, it's only one more reminder that she did that to him, she made him fight on Magneto's side. She made him turn against Jean and the others and she will not -- she cannot -- live here and look at him and know, not for one day or one minute longer. "Moira..."
"Don't say anything more, Scott," she says, gaze downcast, clinging tight to the suitcase in front of her. "Sean and Charles have done their best to change my mind." It isn't as if she doesn't want to belong with them, but what she's done -- it's a wonder they even want her to and a certainty that she never can.
"To no avail," says Charles. She can't even look at him now. More than anyone else here, it's him she's failed. "Moira, one last word..." Before he can continue, Sean's voice is in her mind, brought to her by the telepathic link Charles has provided. And I'd like it to be mine, Charles.
"No."
Moira...
"It's all said and done, Sean," she insists, turning on her heel and heading toward the door as fast as she can go. "I can't stay. I just can't." And oh, what a bloody coward she is to be doing this, to run from all her wrongs when the man's been a saint to her, when his broken jaw's still healing. But isn't that the very reason she has to go? He's been hurt because of what she's done, beaten by one of his own team because of the rotten choices she's made, and he's not the only one. Maybe they can trust her, but right now, she can't.
Her free hand closes on the doorknob and she twists, pulls the door open and rushes out into the world where her cab should be waiting. It isn't, though. There's no cab, no driveway, and when she turns to look behind her, there's no mansion either, only trees and snow, a forest she doesn't know. She's aware she should keep moving, that she's not dressed for the weather and she needs to figure out where she is and how she got here before that becomes a problem, but honestly, her first reaction is relief. At least now they're unlikely to follow her outside and beg her to stay.
Rolling down the sleeves of her coat, Moira sets off in search of some kind of a path and preferably a few answers. She's made friends with a set of people who've made an awful lot of nemeses, and she's hardly without enemies of her own. It might be fitting for one of them to bring her to her end at this point in time, but she's hardly about to just let them, even now.
It seems such a long time ago, a mistake made in her foolish youth, when it really hasn't been that many years at all since she had Magneto in her care and chose to alter his genetic code. He was only a child at the time, an innocent young thing, and she'd thought she'd done it for his own good -- just a little tampering to change him for the better, to give him the opportunity to use his second chance at life more wisely, more kindly. Her hands still, caught in a tangle of fabric, the dress she's folding to take away with her. It was easy back then to make the choice. Kevin was still alive; there was still a hope he might be saved with what she learned from her work with Magneto. How easily blinded she was by a mother's love, how little it had meant in the end. Bad enough that she should have let herself be led astray like that, but to put herself in the position she was in not long before, allowing Magneto to force her to do the same thing to the X-Men -- even if the alterations were unsuccessful, she's still experimented on her friends, her family, people she's sworn to protect. She still led them to turn on each other, however briefly.
It's impossible to look at them and not recall what she's put them through, and when she walks down the hall to the foyer to find Scott standing there with Xavier beside him, it's only one more reminder that she did that to him, she made him fight on Magneto's side. She made him turn against Jean and the others and she will not -- she cannot -- live here and look at him and know, not for one day or one minute longer. "Moira..."
"Don't say anything more, Scott," she says, gaze downcast, clinging tight to the suitcase in front of her. "Sean and Charles have done their best to change my mind." It isn't as if she doesn't want to belong with them, but what she's done -- it's a wonder they even want her to and a certainty that she never can.
"To no avail," says Charles. She can't even look at him now. More than anyone else here, it's him she's failed. "Moira, one last word..." Before he can continue, Sean's voice is in her mind, brought to her by the telepathic link Charles has provided. And I'd like it to be mine, Charles.
"No."
Moira...
"It's all said and done, Sean," she insists, turning on her heel and heading toward the door as fast as she can go. "I can't stay. I just can't." And oh, what a bloody coward she is to be doing this, to run from all her wrongs when the man's been a saint to her, when his broken jaw's still healing. But isn't that the very reason she has to go? He's been hurt because of what she's done, beaten by one of his own team because of the rotten choices she's made, and he's not the only one. Maybe they can trust her, but right now, she can't.
Her free hand closes on the doorknob and she twists, pulls the door open and rushes out into the world where her cab should be waiting. It isn't, though. There's no cab, no driveway, and when she turns to look behind her, there's no mansion either, only trees and snow, a forest she doesn't know. She's aware she should keep moving, that she's not dressed for the weather and she needs to figure out where she is and how she got here before that becomes a problem, but honestly, her first reaction is relief. At least now they're unlikely to follow her outside and beg her to stay.
Rolling down the sleeves of her coat, Moira sets off in search of some kind of a path and preferably a few answers. She's made friends with a set of people who've made an awful lot of nemeses, and she's hardly without enemies of her own. It might be fitting for one of them to bring her to her end at this point in time, but she's hardly about to just let them, even now.