(Criminal Minds/X-Men/X-Men: First Class) Reflections in Moving Water Part 2 for liliaeth

[aurilly]

Back to Part 1

The next day Dave made a point of not hiding in his office. He'd managed to arrange a meeting with Dr. McCoy at Xavier's School, so there was no round table meeting to discuss Magneto's profile. Instead, they spent their day working individually on lower-ranking mutants. No one could have called him on it if he'd spent the day alone working through the files. Instead, he made a point of stopping in the bullpen on every pretext he could find, chatting, bouncing ideas off the other profilers. He even went so far as to corner Morgan in his office, asking for a second opinion on a Brotherhood mutant whose pattern of attack showed the possibility of a fixation on parental figures. That didn't quite go over like a lead balloon, but it was close.

He was glad when it was over. The day after, a Friday, he was in front of Reid's apartment building in a Bureau SUV at 8AM sharp. Reid was waiting for him, and was pulling open the passenger door almost as soon as he'd pulled to a stop, a large travel mug of coffee in one hand and his go-bag in the other.

"You know, it's a good thing I didn't have plans for tonight or tomorrow," Reid bitched as he buckled himself in. "Driving up to New York and back isn't exactly how I planned to spend my weekend."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea," Dave said, checking traffic before pulling back out on the road. "Ambassador McCoy is a busy man, particularly during the week. We're lucky he could see us at all on such short notice, even late on a Friday afternoon. He could have said Saturday. And we'll get a day off next week to compensate."

"As long as we don’t get called off on a case," Reid pointed out.

"That's not likely, given that both the other teams are in the field and they don't like leaving the office empty," Dave said. "Besides, would you rather I left you behind and took Emily or JJ to meet Dr. McCoy, instead? Because I think I could still call them up and change plans. We haven't left the city yet."

"No, this is fine," Reid said. He dug in his bag and pulled out an iPod and a car adapter, plugging it in. At least there was no need to fight over a radio dial; he and Reid had long since reached a compromise both could live with. Unlike, say, Morgan, whose tastes in music were about diametrically opposite to Dave's.

They drove in silence for the first hour, Dave concentrating on navigating the snarl that was the Beltway at rush hour, Reid staring out the window at passing cars.

"Want some more coffee?" Dave asked, once they were through the worst of it. At Reid's affirmative, he took the next exit and found a drive-through coffee place, paying for both their orders. He didn't need the coffee himself, but it was something to break the ice.

"You've been awful quiet," Dave said as they got back on the road.

"Sorry," Reid said. "I read as many of Dr. McCoy's works as I could get my hands on last night, and I've been thinking about what questions to ask, if we get a chance to talk about science instead of profiling."

"If you're interested, I think he'll make sure you get the chance, unless he's completely changed since I knew him. I still can't quite see him as a politician-he loved science and experimenting with a passion. He taught science by having us help with his experiments, when we could."

"Lucky you," Reid said enviously.

Dave laughed. "I wouldn't have said so at the time. He really didn't have that good a grasp on what the normal intellectual and educational level of a teenager was. He tended to assume that what was obvious to him would be obvious to everyone else, too. It came naturally to him. He wasn't quite sure what to do with people it didn't come naturally to. Still, his enthusiasm was catching."

"That's a common problem among people with special talents in particular areas," Reid said. "People use their own abilities as a baseline for normal, which causes problems when it's not."

"Speaking from experience, there, Doctor Reid?" Dave asked.

"It did cause some problems when I was a kid," Reid said. "Eighteen year olds don't like thirteen year olds that make them feel stupid."

"I can imagine," Dave said. "It can also cause problems with mutant-human relations. The differences in perception can be huge, without anyone realizing it."

"Do you consider yourself not 'human,' then?" Reid asked.

Dave sighed. "It depends on how you mean. In some ways, yeah. If I had to choose between baseline human and mutant, I'd probably go with mutant. Day to day … well. The problem is, 'human' is the only really polite and concise way of saying 'someone who is not a mutant.' I mean, I wouldn't call a friend a flattie, or even a flatscan, you know?"

"So it's a problem of terminology," Reid said. "I'm curious about etiquette. Is it polite to ask what someone's mutation is if it's not obvious?"

"That a subtle way of asking what mine is?" Dave asked. "It's a touchy subject for a human to ask about. There are too many people who ask that because they want to see a freak show, you know? Basically, if you're respectful and don't push if they don't want to talk, you're a lot less likely to cause offense." He paused. "My mutation is an ability to both mimic and understand animal cries, and a selective empathy that allows me to sense what an animal is feeling. It doesn't work on humans, and it doesn't work on animals who don't have brains complex enough to support an emotional response. Mammals are easier than reptiles or fish."

"Interesting," Reid said. "I wonder why it works on complex animals but not humans? After all, the closer the brain is to yours the easier it would be to interpret the sensations, I would think."

"Doctor McCoy and the Professor thought humans might be too complex," Dave said. "Animals are a lot simpler, more straightforward in their thought and emotional patterns. And I've never tried to read a monkey or ape or any of the animals closest to human in mental capacity."

"Maybe we should go to the zoo some time," Reid said thoughtfully. "It would be interesting to test out. Any other points of etiquette I should remember?"

"Well, how about not implying that you want a mutant to be your lab rat?" Dave said, shaking his head. "I mean, I get it, I know you don't mean anything by it. But when you're going to be in a place where some people have been lab rats, well, be careful. A mutant like Doctor McCoy or the Professor doing research with full consent and cooperation is one thing. A human-particularly a federal agent-is something completely different. You're going to meet a lot of people who are used to being treated like crap by bigoted jerks. Don't be surprised if they're wary or defensive."

"Right," Reid said. "Speaking of experimentation, did you ever think of going into zoology? I could name several researchers who would love to be able to work with someone who could give them more direct feedback on why their animals do what they do."

"I'm not really an academic kind of guy," Dave said. "Aren't you going to ask me why I don't use my ability with the BAU?"

"Why would you?" Reid asked, frowning. "Given the differences between animal and human attention spans and perception, I'd think the possibility of getting anything usable would be really, really small."

"That's true, but Aaron still asked the question," Dave said. "And I'm probably gonna have to explain it to the rest of the team, too. Starting with Morgan, probably."

"I'm surprised you haven't done so already," Reid said. "You planning on talking with him when we get back? Both he and I have trust issues, but his tend to be focused on male authority figures while mine are more general. I understand why you didn't say anything, and while I'm hurt that you didn't trust us, it's not my place to judge something I have no experience with. And you're introducing me to Doctor McCoy, so I'm pretty happy with that."

"Never let it be said that you're not easy," Dave said with some amusement.

Reid shrugged. "Well, I might hold out for taking you to the zoo to see you in action, if we could figure out how to do it so that we wouldn't out you."

"We'll see," Dave said.

"Are you planning on throwing another team dinner?" Reid asked. "It was surprisingly effective to get over the worst of the friction about Emily's faked death."

Dave raised his eyebrows to hear the resentment that had almost torn the team apart-the worst of it coming from Reid-reduced to mere 'friction.' "I may," he said. "But you'll note that it wasn't Emily or Aaron or JJ who threw the party. Would you have shown up if they did?"

"Good point," Reid said. "Well, I don't have a big enough place and neither does Garcia. Emily is still settling in, and Morgan's out for obvious reasons. Maybe I should talk to Hotch or JJ about it."

"You do that," Dave said. Something where he could leave if things went bad sounded much more attractive than hosting it in his house.

***

"So, how long has it been since you've been here?" Reid asked as they came to the gates and turned in the driveway.

"Decades," Dave said.

"Has it changed much?"

"Well, for one thing, there were a lot fewer people here." Dave looked around at the swarms of teenagers and children playing on the lawn, enjoying the last few warm days of fall. He'd have been thrilled to have more than four people his age as a student. "And the grounds have changed-it was all formal English gardens and stuff. The mansion itself doesn't look like it's changed much, at least from the outside."

He pulled into a parking spot by the front door and climbed out, waiting for Reid before heading up the steps. A white man in his late teens/early twenties was waiting for them, possibly a student. "Hi, you must be Agents Rossi and Reid," he said. "I'm Bobby. Ms. Munroe asked me to show you to her study."

"Thank you," Reid said as they followed him inside. "So, are you a teacher or a student?"

"Neither, any more," Bobby said. "I graduated a couple of years back. I'm working part time and going to school part time, getting my general courses out of the way at the community college."

"What are you planning to study?" Reid asked.

"Accounting," Bobby said. "It's not exciting, but it's a good job that pays well and is always in demand."

"That's a smart choice in an economy like this one," Dave said absently, noting the changes as they walked through the halls. Furnishings and art had been changed in favor of more durable, less fancy items. The sitting room was now a game room complete with a big-screen TV and four kids playing video games.

It didn't take long to reach the study. The door looked the same, but Bobby had to knock. Dave shook his head. It was funny, but that threw him more than any other change. Reid saw his reaction and raised an eyebrow.

"Nobody ever had to knock when I was a student here," Dave explained.

"Yeah," Bobby said. "We all miss the Professor. Ms. Munroe's doing a wonderful job, though."

A woman's voice invited them to enter. Bobby opened the door and ushered them in. "Agent Rossi, Agent Reid, this is Headmistress Ororo Munroe. Ma'am, these are agents Rossi and Reid."

Ororo Munroe was a beautiful black woman with striking white hair, despite her youthful appearance. She didn't seem to be older than her mid-thirties, but that didn't mean much for a mutant. She sat behind the Professor's desk, with the Professors books on the shelves that took up most of the walls, but the art was different, and the elegant wooden chairs had been replaced by slightly more modern (and comfortable-looking) furniture.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," Dave said, coming over to shake her hand.

She stood to greet him, smiling. "We are always happy to have our alumni visit, particularly ones as distinguished as you, Agent Rossi."

"Thank you," he said.

She released his hand and turned to Reid, who also shook hands. "Thank you for having us," he said.

Dave breathed a sigh of relief; Reid's general reluctance to shake hands could too easily be mistaken for a specific reluctance to shake hands with mutants.

"I hope your visit is fruitful," Ms. Munroe replied. "You are a little early; Doctor McCoy has not yet arrived."

"We allowed extra time in case of particularly bad traffic," Dave said. "I hope we're not keeping you from your work."

"Not at all," Ms. Munroe said with a smile. "We have one or two students considering careers in law enforcement or emergency services. I was wondering if you would care to speak to them while you are here, and give your perspective on those careers and any advice you might have, as a fellow mutant?"

"I'd be glad to," Dave said.

The door opened, and in strode a familiar blue figure. "David! I was so very glad to hear from you. It has been too long. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well, Doctor McCoy," Dave said, sticking out his hand for an enthusiastic shaking. "I was surprised you turned to politics-you've done some great work, but it's hard to imagine anything dragging you out of your lab."

"Yes, well, science is important, but how it is applied is even more so," Doctor McCoy said. "Have you kept in contact with any of your classmates? I assume you heard about Suzanne's death."

"Yeah," Dave said with a sigh. It was a shock to realize Suzanne-Sway-had died almost twenty years earlier. Where had the time gone? She'd died saving others, but that wasn't any kind of consolation. "Sunfire's in Mumbai, India, working with X-Corporation for mutant rights," Dave said. "The Tokyo branch is going strong, and you know Sunfire, he always liked a challenge. Thunderbird's actually here in New York, he's a detective with the NYPD." John was Dave's main contact with the mutant world.

"Really?" Doctor McCoy said. "We shall have to get together sometime. Two out of four of that class in law enforcement."

"We both decided on our careers independently, if that's what you're wondering," Dave said. "I'd like you to meet a friend and colleague of mine, Doctor Spencer Reid. Reid's also a behavioral analyst, but he had three PhD's before he was twenty. He's a bit of a fan of yours. He goes to school for fun."

"Ah! A pleasure to meet a fellow scholar," Doctor McCoy said, turning to Reid to shake his hand. "Please, both of you, call me Hank."

"Thank you," Reid said, flushing slightly.

Hank turned to Ms. Monroe and greeted her as an old friend. Once the greetings were done, she invited them to sit on the sofa and chairs in the center of the office.

"Shall we get down to business?" Hank said as they sat down.

Dave took the lead. "As I explained in my phone call, the CIA has asked the Behavioral Analysis Unit to update its profiles of known members of the Brotherhood of Mutants. They're worried about what will happen if the so-called cure wears off for them, if it hasn't already. They're particularly interested in Magneto and Mystique for obvious reasons. They didn't know I was a mutant when they assigned the case to our team-the Bureau still doesn't-but I was wondering if you would be able to give us some perspective on Magneto and Mystique for our profile."

"Thus camouflaging your own personal knowledge of your subjects?" Hank said, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly," Dave said.

"Also, you here at the school probably have a better handle on the long-term effects of the so-called cure than anyone," Reid said. "Both physiological and psychological."

"May I ask what these profiles will be used for?" Ms. Monroe asked. She wasn't cold, but there was a reserve to her manner that her courtesy couldn’t hide.

"To predict what they'll do if the Brotherhood becomes a threat again," Dave said.

"Ma'am, I understand that you have been the victims of some terrible things," Reid said. "I can't promise you that no one will ever misuse any information you choose to give us. But I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening."

She nodded. "Thank you, Doctor Reid. As to the so-called 'cure,'" she spoke the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth, "it is widely divisive within the mutant community, and reactions to it do not conform to any set of ideals or allegiances. There are some who supported the Brotherhood who were nonetheless relieved by the possibility to remove harmful mutations, and there are those among the supporters of peaceful relations who view even the attempt to search for a 'cure' to be a direct attack. But as the 'cure' failed, and as so many have died when their mutations returned out of their control, hatred of it and those who developed and used it has only grown. As has discrimination against those who have taken it, whether voluntarily or not, and this sometimes continues after their powers return."

"Do those who took the cure voluntarily try to stay within the mutant community?" Dave asked.

Monroe shrugged. "It depends. Those who have strong ties of family or friendship with humans are more likely to separate from the mutant community. Those who took the cure because they were ashamed or afraid generally break contact. Those who took the cure because their mutation is a danger to themselves or others sometimes remain a part of the community, and sometimes do not. Those who were given the cure against their will generally try to remain within the community, but not always; if they have enemies, it is sometimes safer to move in strictly human circles. But whether they stay or go, their position is precarious. Humans often still discriminate against them as mutants, and mutants often act against them as traitors to their own kind. It is a situation in which there are few happy endings."

Reid turned to Hank. "Has any work been done on the neurochemical effects of the cure? I would think that in some cases the alteration in brain function would be quite large, which would then have effects on cognition and emotion."

Hank shook his head. "There are very few people whom mutants trust enough to do that kind of research, and most are already spread quite thin, as I am myself. Besides, for that sort of work you'd want a specialist, and if there are any working within the mutant community I don't know of them."

"I see," Reid said, looking disappointed.

"Is there anything else you can tell us, anything we should be on the lookout for?" Dave asked.

"I am afraid not," Monroe said. "There are so very many factors that may have an effect in this case. Each situation is unique."

"Thank you for speaking with us," Reid said. "Believe it or not, even what you've been able to tell us has been helpful." He glanced at Dave, letting him take the lead.

"So tell us about Magneto," Dave said. "What was he like to work with? What was the final straw that made him leave to start up the Brotherhood of Mutants? What things stick out in your mind about him?"

***

The discussion of Magneto and Mystique took quite some time; both Doctor McCoy and Ms. Monroe knew a surprising amount of what the Brotherhood had been up to over the last several decades, in addition to their experiences with the two mutants before the Brotherhood's formation. It was not an easy discussion; there were some subjects Ms. Monroe and Doctor McCoy were very careful to skirt around. One such question was whether or not they could tell them about any other member of the former Brotherhood. Dave figured there was at least one former student in the Brotherhood, someone young enough not to have burned all his bridges behind him yet. Reid probably picked up on it too, but didn't press the issue.

At last a student knocked on the door to let them know dinner was ready. Ms. Monroe stood with a gracious smile. "You are welcome to join us for dinner, if you so desire."

"Thank you," Dave said. "We'd like that."

"Excellent!" Doctor McCoy (Hank, Dave reminded himself) said. "That will give Doctor Reid and myself time to converse on more congenial subjects."

"Do you have accommodations for the night?" Ms Monroe asked.

"No, Rossi insisted on coming straight here," Reid said. "Why?"

"We have a small hostel here in the school," she replied. "Usually, our rooms are used by visiting mutants or the parents of students. If you wish, you may stay here overnight. This would give Hank and Doctor Reid more time to speak, and give Dave the opportunity to speak with our students."

"Tell you what," Dave said. "Charge the Bureau what they'd be paying if we stayed in a regular hotel. Then put the difference between that and what you'd normally charge in the scholarship fund." He glanced at Reid to make sure he didn't object to the sleight of hand with their finances.

"Very well," Ms. Monroe said. "This way."

***

Reid and Hank spent the entire dinner engrossed in a discussion of … something. Dave knew they were speaking English because he understood a few words here and there. Mostly things like "and," "the," "to," and other articles and prepositions. He was an intelligent and generally well-educated man, but nowhere in their league.

Dave himself spent dinner between Ms. Monroe and a guy named Scott Summers, who it turned out was the younger brother of the Mr. Summers who'd been a teacher when Dave was a student. Scott had started the year after Dave left to go back to his hometown high school, but he sure didn't look it. Dave had thought he was well-preserved for his age, but Scott was five years younger and could have passed for thirty years younger.

It was good that Reid was having a good time, Dave reflected, because neither Scott nor Ms. Monroe were very talkative. He hadn't really expected to see anyone he knew after all this time, but it still felt weird to see all knew faces. It sort of felt like his first night in the school.

Davy poked at his food, not quite sure what to make of it. There was a lot of sticky rice, and that was about all he recognized. Well, there was grilled fish, but it wasn't like the fish his family had every Friday. And some soup, but it looked kind of weird, with green stuff floating in it-he hadn't tasted it yet, and wasn't sure if he was going to. The kid next to him had whispered that it was seaweed. There were also pickles, but they were kind of weird, too. Professor Xavier had explained that the school served many different kinds of food because they had students from all over, and they wanted all of them to be able to eat familiar food. Davy scowled. Why would anyone want to eat this weird stuff? His Mama's lasagna was a lot tastier. He stole a glance down at the kiddie table, at the blue woman (Blue! With scales!) who was making sure all the kids ate their vegetables. Then at the big furry blue monster who sat with the rest of the teachers.

"If you keep scowling, your face will freeze like that."

Davy looked up to see the girl across the table from him smiling. She was pretty enough, for a chink, he supposed. She was the first Oriental person he'd ever met. She seemed nice. Still, he wished there were more kids like him. How was he supposed to learn to be normal here?

"I'm Suzanne Chan," she said. "Sway. I can control time. Well, some of the time. That's John Proudstar," she said, nodding to the guy next to Davy. He was kinda dark-skinned, with straight black hair. Was he an Indian? He didn't look like the Indians in the movies-where were the feathers and buckskin? "John's mutant name is Thunderbird. He's really strong and really fast. And this is Shiro Yoshida," she said, indicating the other chink at the table. Unlike Suzanne, Sh-whatever was using chopsticks. "Sunfire. He's from Japan. He can make nuclear fire. Do you have a mutant name, yet, Davy?"

"What's a mutant name?" Davy asked.

"A mutant name is a name for your true self," the Indian said. "It reflects your powers, and your personality. Your parents called you Davy. What do you call yourself?"

"I call myself Davy," he said, confused.

The guy with the chopsticks snickered. "What are your powers?" He had an accent, though it wasn't as bad as Davy expected from TV.

"I can talk with animals," Davy said. It wasn't a lie! Not really. He'd be able to … eventually. He hoped. Right now, all he wanted to do was be able to choose whether to speak or bark when there was a dog in the room.

"What do you want to be called?" Suzanne asked. "What do you think of when you use your powers?"

"I dunno," Davy said. Nobody told him he'd have to make up a name for himself. It was only his first night! He wasn't even sure he could find his way from the dining hall to the room they'd assigned him. And he hadn't met his roommate yet, though he thought maybe it would be one of the two other guys at the table, since the four of them seemed to be the closest in age and he obviously couldn't room with the girl.

"That's okay," John said confidently. "We'll help you think of something."

After dinner (Davy ate the fish, and most of the rice, and some of the soup even though it tasted funny) the other kids went off to play games while Davy sat pushing weird pickles around his plate and feeling sorry for himself.

"Davy?"

He looked up, to see Professor Xavier standing over him. "Hello, Professor," he said, straightening up.

"How are you feeling?"

Davy frowned. The Professor could read peoples' minds, right? Why was he asking what he already knew?

The Professor smiled. "You do think very loudly, Davy, so that it is hard for me not to hear you. Part of that has to do with your powers, and I shall be teaching you how to shield-that is, how to think more quietly. But it is rude of me to read peoples' thoughts without their permission, and so I try not to listen too closely. Also, sometimes it helps more to talk something out than to merely think it."

"Oh," Davy said. "Well, I'm doing fine," he said.

Professor Xavier didn't respond to the lie, just watched him for a while until Davy was fidgeting. Mama had told him to behave, and she would skin him if she heard him talking back to the principal. Wait, there was a weird name for it-headmaster. "Why can't we have normal food?" he asked.

"I'm sorry that it was not to your liking," Professor Xavier said. "But for Shiro, this is normal food. In fact, it was made according to his mother's recipe. If you were in Japan, and surrounded by people who didn't speak your language or pray to the same God or eat the same food, wouldn't you be happy to have lasagna?" The Professor waited until Davy had imagined what that would be like, to be in such a strange place-a little bit like he felt right now, only probably worse. Yeah, he'd want that lasagna-he'd wanted it tonight! "That is how Shiro felt tonight. Don't worry, we'll have food you recognize more often than not."

"Good," Davy said. "Are there any other boys my age here?" White boys, he meant, boys who played baseball and listened to the Beatles, not … whatever it was they did in Japan.

"I'm afraid the school is still fairly small," the Professor said. "You were seated with Suzanne, John, and Shiro because you will be taking classes with them. By the way, you were thinking quite loudly, earlier, and I could not help overhearing."

Davy stiffened and opened his mouth to protest-Professor Xavier had just said he didn't read minds without permission!

Professor Xavier sighed. "Normally I would try to ignore it, but there is something you should know that will make your stay here much more pleasant for all concerned, including yourself. Suzanne is Chinese, not a 'chink,' and she is in fact a natural-born United States citizen just as you are. And Shiro is Japanese, not a 'jap.' Those terms are very hurtful, so we do not use them here. But I'm sure that if you get to know them, you'll become friends. I believe they're playing Sorry, if you'd like to join them."

Davy frowned, thinking. It wasn't as if there was anyone else here his age. "Where are they?"

Instead of telling him, the Professor smiled. All of a sudden, Davy had a map of the school in his head, and he knew how to get to the sitting room, and also to his bedroom. Well. Dave would rather play Clue or Monopoly, but he sure didn't want to sit in his room alone until lights out. He went off to find his classmates.

"Davy!"

Davy turned back to the Professor. "Yes, sir?"

"Please put your dishes in the sink for the students on KP duty to clean."

Dave shook his head. He'd been such a bigoted little jerk without even realizing it. The room might not have changed that much, but boy his attitudes sure had, and a lot of that was due to his experiences here and the friendships he'd made. He'd had to step outside his comfort zone and make friends with kids from different backgrounds, kids who didn't look or talk like him, and it had changed the way he looked at the world. It had made more of a difference to his daily life than the development of his powers had, actually.

Dave looked around the room and wondered what his younger self would have thought of it. Back then, Doctor McCoy and Mystique had been the only two who couldn’t pass for human if they wanted. Well, Mystique could, but not in her natural state. Now there were so many more-rainbow hues, scales, fur, you name it, some kid or teacher had it. They came from all over the world. They had nothing in common-even their powers were diverse enough not to count as things in common. And yet, here they were, eating and talking and laughing together.

"A penny for your thoughts, Agent Rossi," Ms. Monroe said.

"If the rest of the world were more like this school, I think we'd all be better off," Dave said. "Mutant and human."

She smiled, but her eyes were sad. "Yes. I know what you mean. Still, perhaps we can lead by example, and by teaching our children how to live in harmony rather than hatred."

"One can only hope." Dave glanced past her to Hank and Reid as they stood and gathered their plates, still talking animatedly about God only knew what. "Looks like Reid and Hank are having a grand time. I thought they might hit it off."

"Yes," Ms. Monroe said. "If there were more people like your partner, the world would also be a better place. I hope the rest of your colleagues are as accepting of your heritage."

"Hey, they broke the mold when they made him," Dave said. "But my team is great. We're having a little bit of a rough patch right now-I hadn't told them I was a mutant before this, and we were only just getting through some tough things when this assignment started-but we'll be okay." He hoped.

"I am glad," Ms. Monroe said. "Would you care to walk with me, Agent Rossi? Perhaps I might show you how the school has changed since you were a student." She said it with a smile that was charming but not flirtatious.

"I would like that," Rossi said. "Lead on." They bussed their dishes and headed off. As Dave expected, the tour ended in Ms. Monroe's office, with the door closed.

After offering him tea and cookies, Ms. Monroe got down to business. "The last time Magneto was in government custody, they experimented on him and used mind control to extract the information that Stryker used both to assault this school and build his mutant-killing device."

"Damn," Dave said, shaking his head. "Every time I think it can't get worse, it does."

She pursed her lips. "While we do of course want Magneto and his followers contained and prevented from creating more violence, I am sure you understand why the idea of them in prison makes us … wary."

Dave stared at her. "You know where he is," he said.

Ms. Monroe was good, she didn't even blink. "If you were to see Magneto, assuming he was still de-powered and no threat to anyone, what would you do?"

"I have no idea," Dave said. Magneto deserved to be punished and he sure as hell should be locked up for everyone's safety, but did Dave want to take the chance that another like Stryker would come along? Did he want to take the chance that having Magneto in custody would tempt his jailers to break the very laws they were called to uphold? Magneto was so high-profile he might entice those who wouldn’t take the risk for smaller fish. And yet, as an FBI agent he had a duty to apprehend any criminal he found, particularly a terrorist. Could he trust that the X-Men could keep Magneto contained even if his powers came back? Could he trust that Magneto wouldn't start causing purely human violence?

"I believe that Hank and Doctor Reid will wish to spend the morning in the lab," Ms. Monroe said. "If you have an answer by then, please let me know."

So Magneto was somewhere he could visit in a morning while Reid was off with Hank. Probably New York-a big enough city for one man to disappear into obscurity. "I'll let you know," Dave said.

***

The next morning Dave was in Central Park by a quarter to ten. If there was a chance Magneto would become a threat again, he needed to be locked up. And the only way for Dave to make that judgment was to see for himself. What Dave would do if he found Magneto wasn't a threat … he still wasn't sure. Ms. Monroe had insisted he take one of the school's car's in to the city, so the FBI wouldn't know where he went from the GPS. Reid and Hank were buried in the labs, and probably wouldn't surface until they were dragged out.

Dave almost walked right past Magneto. Despite what he'd been told, somehow the idea of Magneto as a tired old man in a nondescript coat and a tweed hat sitting in the park just didn't seem right. But there he was, sitting at a chess board and staring at the metal pieces as if willing them to move. Once, it would have been the most trivial of exercises to send them dancing through the air. Now, they were still.

"Mind if I join you?" Dave asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Magneto said.

Dave sat down anyway, studying the older man. It wasn't just the normal clothes-after all, he'd worn normal clothes when Dave had known him. The man Dave had known had seemed larger than life, with a presence that drew others to him. The man in front of him felt smaller than his physical frame, not hunched over but sunken in on himself with weariness.

"If you were going to sit anyway, why bother to ask?" Magneto said testily.

"To see what you'd say," Dave said.

Magneto narrowed his eyes, looking him up and down. "Ah. Yes. Minotaur. Or do you go by Davy?"

"It's Dave, actually," Dave said, willing to let him control the conversation for now, just to see where he'd take it. No one was within earshot, unless there was a parabolic mike or a mutant with exceptionally good hearing.

"I heard you were working for the FBI," Magneto said. "Come to take me back to my little plastic cage, complete with mind control drugs to ensure my docility? Though the taxpayers could house me far more cheaply in a standard cell, these days. Or were you planning a more direct solution?"

"So, your powers still haven't returned?" Dave asked. He hadn't seen Magneto in fifty years, and yet there was still a part of him that wanted to respond as a student. Better to go on the offensive. It's what Dave was best at, anyway. "Is that why you're sitting here alone at a chessboard? Hoping that'll change?"

"Actually, I have a standing appointment with other old men," Magneto said. "We play chess and complain about the state of the world these days. Isn't that what retirees do?" He raised an eyebrow, as if astonished anyone could ever think him out of the ordinary.

"And do you consider yourself retired?"

Magneto shrugged. "For now, at least. We shall see." But the tightening of the skin around his eyes and mouth gave the lie to his studied air of aloofness.

"And if I went to those other old men you play chess with, what would they tell me your name was?"

"Max," Magneto said. "Short for Maximoff."

The last name of his two surviving children, from whom he was estranged, Dave noted.

"We trade pictures of children and grandchildren, and complain that the kids these days show no respect for their elders. We play chess, and complain that the politicians are ruining the country. Isn't that the retirement that everyone dreams of?" Magneto said. "What retirement do you dream of, Davy?"

"One that I choose because I'm ready to retire, not because I don't want to enforce unjust laws," David said, ignoring the dig of his name. "I've already retired once, during Kelly's rise to prominence. Came back after Mallory vs. the State of California was decided. So far, it's looking good."

Magneto snorted. "And you think it will stay that way? Things are in a precarious balance, now. It will tip over soon enough and if you believe it will tip the way you want it to, you're a fool."

"If I don't do my part to help keep it balanced, and tip the right way, then I really would be a fool," Dave said. "What about you? Are you doing your part to keep it balanced, or are you trying to overturn the whole system?"

"And what could I do even if I wanted to?" Magneto replied. "I shall save you the trouble of probing further, for it seems I shall have no peace until you have what you came for. While I have regained a little bit of my power, it would be far better if I had not. I can feel the metal all around me again, you see-that returned within a few months of the battle, and I assumed that the rest would soon follow, as it did when I was a child. But though I can sense it, I cannot touch it. Each and every day, every hour, every second, I reach out as I have done my whole life. And nothing responds. Not even the merest twitch of a magnet.

"And my body ages, ages more quickly than it has in my memory. My physical strength is beginning to fail, my joints to stiffen, and mere exercise may delay these effects but it cannot reverse them. Even if my powers were to return in full this very instant, I would be less capable than I have ever been. The Brotherhood would need to be rebuilt almost from the ground up, and that is a young man's game.

"I have thought, sometimes, of buying a gun and attacking my enemies as a human would, if a human I must remain from now until the end of my days. And yet I would be easily subdued, and I would not give them the satisfaction of taking me down quickly and easily. If all that remains of Magneto is a legend, I will not destroy it.

"So I sit here with the other impotent fools and wait for the end. Is that what you wanted to know, Davy?" His voice was as elegant as ever. But where once it would have rung with passion and scorn, now there was merely weary resignation. He seemed brittle, and small. If he was lying, he was too good for Dave to spot it.

"That's about what I wanted to know," Dave said with a nod. "So, you've cut off all contact with anyone from your former life?"

"Magneto died at Alcatraz," the other man said, with a bitter twist to his mouth. "Who would I speak to? And why should they care for another mundane old man?"

Dave tilted his head in acknowledgment. Pietro and Wanda, the children who had rejected their father for his extremism, would probably prefer him this way, but he wasn't here to play relationship counselor.

"So, you spend your days here in the park," Dave said. "Is that all?"

"I have a job in a store, part-time. It pays for a room, and food. I go to Shabbat services every week. Would you care to join me?" he said with mock-courtesy. "This late in the year, Shabbat comes early. It's only a few hours away."

Dave didn't let his surprise show on his face. Everything he'd ever known of Magneto had shown him to be a secular Jew and an atheist-to the best of Dave's knowledge, he'd observed no Jewish customs or religious rites while teaching at Xavier's, or during his time as leader of the Brethren. But now with the identity of his adult years torn away, he was returning to the identity of his childhood. It made sense, though Dave wouldn't have predicted it. "Thank you for the offer," he said. "But I have to get back."

He stood and glanced around. "I'll let you get back to your chess game." Ms. Monroe was right. This man-Magneto, Maximoff, Erik Lensherr, whatever you wanted to call him-wasn't a threat unless his powers returned, and possibly not even then. The X-Men could handle him. It wasn't worth sending him to jail and taking the risk.

***

Back at the school he met with the students Ms. Monroe introduced him to. It was hard to believe he was ever that young, but he must have been. He tried to give them the unvarnished truth-the bigotry still found in many areas of law enforcement, the occasional conflict between justice and the law, the friction between what you might want as a mutant and what your duty was as an officer. But he was also honest about the satisfaction of catching the bad guys, of knowing you had made a difference, and of the opportunity to be a good example and work toward a peaceful, just society for all, human and mutant, whether or not you were out.

Their questions varied from insightful (what was his mutation and how did it fit into his career) to the sensational (had he ever killed anyone, or shot anyone). By the time they were done asking questions, they were late for lunch.

***

Saturday meals were less formal, and Dave found himself almost alone at the teachers' table. Reid and Hank straggled in even later than he did, still talking about whatever they'd been working on. Dave waited until they were done eating before finding a break in the conversation. "Ready to go, Reid?"

"What?" Reid said, as if he'd only just noticed him there. "I was hoping for a little more time."

Dave wasn't surprised. "Reid, we've got a six hour drive ahead of us," he said.

"And while I would love nothing more than to continue our discussion, I have things that must be done today if I am to be ready for my appointments next week," Hank said.

"Oh. Well, I need to pack," Reid said. "Give me half an hour?"

"Sure," Dave said. He needed to pack, too.

"And do send me that article, it sounds fascinating," Reid said as he gathered his dishes.

"I look forward to your reaction!" Hank said. He turned to Dave. "I am sorry we have not had time to catch up, David," he said.

Dave smiled. "That's okay, really, Hank," he said. "I knew that was going to happen when I brought Reid. It's not like you and I were ever particularly close, anyway. Good luck on your work with the UN, and getting the government to act rationally about mutants. I know that if anyone can do it, it would be you."

"Thank you," Hank said gravely. "I believe I shall need it. I always do."

***

Once on the road, Reid warbled on excitedly about all the things he and Hank had talked about. Dave mostly let it wash over him, saying 'uh-huh' at what seemed to be appropriate intervals.

"… and I'm glad I just finished up my philosophy degree," Reid said. "That leaves me free to pursue other fields. It was a nice change, but I think I'm ready to go back to hard science. There's some really interesting things going on in the field of bioengineering. It's such a new field, exciting things are happening every month. Did you know Hank was one of the pioneers? With the engineering and chemistry doctorates it should be fairly easy to get some of the required classes waved, so I can get to writing a thesis."

"A fourth doctorate?" Dave said, amused. "When are you going to find time to write a thesis while working for the BAU?"

Reid shrugged. "Same way I find time to do all my coursework. And it will be fun. Particularly now that I know Hank-I wonder if he would be willing to work together on some projects? Neither of us has the time to do them alone, nor the grad students to delegate things to, but together we might be able to work things out."

"Have fun," Dave said, shaking his head.

"Oh, I will," Reid said. "What about you? Did you enjoy visiting your old stomping grounds?"

"Yeah," Dave said. What could he say? Particularly since Reid didn't know (and hopefully never would) that he'd visited Magneto without calling it in to arrest him on outstanding warrants. "A lot of things have changed, though."

"That happens, in fifty years," Reid pointed out.

***

Reid hadn't forgotten his idea about team bonding through food and fellowship, and so a week later the team was gathered at JJ's house for a pre-holiday dinner. Rossi was relieved not to be the host and entertainer at this one.

"Things seem to have settled down," Aaron said to him as they sipped wine after dinner, watching the rest of the team talk and mingle with one another. Garcia and Morgan were cooing over Henry, with JJ watching like the proud mother she was. Kevin Lynch and Will LaMontagne were discussing movies in the corner. And miracle of miracles, Reid was talking with Emily. Things were settling down. If Morgan still looked at Dave funny sometimes, he wasn't letting it affect their working relationship.

"Yeah," Dave said. "I just hope we catch a break. We don't need any more shocks like this. The team needs some breathing space to get comfortable with one another again."

"I know," Aaron said. "I shudder to think what might happen next. Reid quitting the BAU to play pro football? Morgan, pregnant? JJ, an alien? Kevin, the bastard son of the President? Garcia, a time-traveler from the future sent to police the timeline? Strauss, a killer robot?"

Dave shuddered. "Don't even joke about it."

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; in feelings, not in figures on a dial.
-PHILIP JAMES BAILEY

-END-

Prompts:
-Erik Lehnsherr/David Rossi (gen only)
-the bonds of family are bound by more than blood