Author's Note: To all my readers; I am so sorry everyone! I know it's been like months since I last updated, and I admit the only excuse I have is that I have been near obsessed with my other X-Men First Class fic, Memory, 'cause of its interesting and suspenseful plot, to me.

I would like to thank my readers for their reviews and persevering interest in my story. I do hope this chapter will appease for my extended absence...I wrote it today, for once not planning and writing as I go along, by instinct; as I felt that if I did not write today my interest in this story would die away, and I did not want to disappoint, anymore.

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men First Class and its characters.

Moira does not know what she should feel.

She does not know if she should feel frustrated and annoyed that she had to leave Charles's side and leave Erik in his care, or if she should feel relieved for Erik seemed to genuinely care for Charles after all, and wasn't abusing his trust. She isn't sure if she should feel sad – at the look on Charles's face at the sight of Erik, or happy for him as his bond with Erik was slowly but starting to be established again.

It had been a long day for her – she had had to return to CIA headquarters for a long, boring meeting, which was only useful at the end when her superior started to actually talk about Sebastian Shaw and his plans for a nuclear holocaust.

Moira had snapped to attention then, listening attentively for the sake of the mutants she had taken residence with, and they had all come to the conclusion that the CIA and Charles and his team of mutants would take action after President Kennedy's speech, which her superior claimed he would make a few days later. She couldn't help but wonder about his status if he had only realized it then.

They had been dismissed from the meeting after that, but Moira had been prevented from going home by a whole stack of paperwork her superior had said casually he had put on her desk for her to complete. She had clenched her teeth, resenting the fact that it was always her that had to do all the paperwork, but had given him a stiff nod as reply.

He had not been being sarcastic when he had told her she better get started on the paperwork for there was a lot of work for her to complete; brushing it off to her extended stay at Charles Xavier's mansion, even though he was the one who had told her she had to keep an eye on the mutants.

Moira had worked all day, signing piles and stacks of papers as fast as she could, only pausing when her stomach could not bear the lack of food any longer. She had gone out to get refreshments, and had had to bear with the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun. But it had at least been a change from the hot and stuffy room of her office in the CIA headquarters.

She had felt better after eating, and had felt especially frustrated when she had returned, to find her colleague putting another stack of papers on her desk and telling her sarcastically it was good that she had completed some of the paperwork, for there was more coming in. Moira had had to seriously resist the urge to punch him in his smirking face.

But she understood her position in the CIA and what it entailed, and it was something she just had to accept, whether she liked it or not. So she had just gritted her teeth, sat at her desk and worked on the seemingly never ending paperwork.

Moira sighs, brushing the back of her hand across her forehead at the memory of the tiring ordeal. She is exhausted; it seems making her sign all the paperwork had not been enough, her superior had ordered a training session for the CIA as well; even when she had not even finished the first task he had assigned her.

The CIA Agent wants nothing more than to collapse on her comfortable bed Charles had provided her along with a room in his mansion, and let the cool night air take her to sleep. But Charles had been on her mind during her absence from the mansion, and she decided she had to spend a moment to check up on him, hoping he was feeling better.

Moira is so overcome with fatigue that it takes her some time to make her way up the long, winding staircase to Charles's room. The door is closed, but she is able to let a small smile cross her lips when she discovers it is not locked.

Quietly, she opens the door, not wanting to disturb Charles if he was asleep. Moira takes silent steps into the room, walking slowly to Charles's bed, whose occupant seems to be fast asleep.

But her sharp ears hear the creak of a door opening, and she quickly backtracks into the shadows, just as Erik emerges from the bathroom, striding over to Charles's bed.

He stands beside Charles's bed, the hard features of his face looking softer somehow in the light of the desk lamp near Charles's bed. It is late and Erik looks tired, but his eyes are a startling green in the lamplight.

His hair is slightly wet as if he had just washed his face. Moira abruptly realizes she is witnessing a personal moment as Erik leans forward, placing a calloused hand gently on Charles's cheek, green eyes bright with repressed emotions.

"It's my fault, isn't it?" Erik says, so softly Moira can barely hear him. "It's my fault you've fallen sick."

"Raven told me the last time you were sick was when you overworked yourself in college," he remarks, smiling wryly. "Do I really have such a big impact on your well being, Charles?"

Moira watches as Charles shifts a little, eyes closed, and Erik continues, "It was hard, being away from you. It was hard pretending I didn't care, pretending I didn't notice how tired you looked."

"I'd thought that the greater the distance was between us, the less you would be troubled, the less you would be hurt," Erik is saying, his voice low as he stares at the sleeping Charles. "But you proved me wrong, just like you had when I thought I was alone."

"I was wrong Charles, I was wrong to think that you would be better off without me, wrong to think that I didn't need you," there is emotion in Erik's eyes as he speaks, emotion which Moira has never seen him openly display before. "I was wrong to drive you away, wrong to think I didn't want you by my side anymore."

Moira watches, silent as Erik moves his hand to Charles's forehead, brushing locks of soft brown hair to the side, his usually rough voice soft in quiet admittance.

"Because I do."

Moira would have never envisioned Erik Lensherr to be a man to talk to himself, to express his emotions in monologue. She never would have thought Erik would express all he felt to a sleeping person, to a sleeping Charles.

But she realizes there is too much she does not know about him. She had been very still as Erik talked, afraid he would notice her presence. Part of her was drawn to leave the room, as Charles seemed to be alright and Erik was by his side, but the other, more hidden part of her wanted to stay, to witness the mysterious man unravel his thoughts, his feelings. She wanted to stay, to learn more about Erik Lensherr, to make clear his true intentions, to try to see the good Charles and Raven had found in him.

Moira inhales. She remains utterly still and as silent as the shadows of the room, hiding herself in them. Erik seems to not have noticed her presence at all, his attention completely focused on their love, whom stirs at Erik's hand on his forehead.

Moira watches, watches in surprise as Erik's green eyes widen slightly at the sight of Charles opening his eyes, meeting surprised green with soft blue.

"I feel the same, my friend," he confesses softly, seeming to take a breath as he meets Erik's eyes. "I missed you, Erik."

Erik gapes a little, and it would have been funny and amusing had the moment not been an emotional one. "I thought you were asleep."

Moira feels a tiny smile tug at her lips as Charles looks at Erik, his smile slightly sly. "I woke up at the sound of your voice."

"How much did you hear?" Erik asks, never removing his gaze from Charles.

Charles inhales. He reaches a hand up to place on Erik's wrist, staring into Erik's eyes. "Everything."

Moira sees Erik look at Charles. Slowly, he draws his wrist away to intertwine his fingers with Charles's. There is something indescribable in his green eyes as he leans down, and before their lips touch, Charles raises his free hand, bringing it around Erik's neck.

Moira has to withhold a gasp as Erik and Charles kiss. They do not make any sound in the romantic act, as if the kiss was not at all a passionate one like one would expect it to be. She realizes they are just brushing their lips against each other's, kissing but not quite, to feel the other, to convey their emotions to their most important person.

Their bodies are still, their mouths moving only slightly. Still, it is a while before Erik releases Charles's mouth, bringing his face slightly away from the other man.

"Would you think I was mad if I say I'm in love with you?" Erik speaks suddenly. His lips curve. "Because I am."

Charles blinks, then smiles, smiles a smile so genuine and bright that Moira is sure it is not only her heart which has skipped two beats. "Great minds think alike, don't they Erik?"

Erik smiles, a true genuine smile, and it is as surprising a sight as his words were. "They do, Charles."

With those words, he bends and kisses Charles again, who is ready to receive him. Their second kiss is more passionate, as Erik untangles his fingers from Charles's, using both hands to cradle his face carefully as he kisses him deeply, as they make sounds which causes Moira's face to warm.

Moira watches, heart beating fast in her chest as they separate, smiling at each other with what she is now sure is love in their eyes – which she realizes had been love all along.

"I love you." Charles says, confirming her realization, in such a sincere voice full of his love for Erik that Moira feels her heart breaking slowly in her chest. She looks at Charles with conflicted emotions in her brown eyes as he smiles, happiness shining in his blue eyes. "I love you, Erik."

"As do I," Erik says, his rough voice unusually tender. He hesitates, before removing his hands from Charles's face. "But she is right, Charles. I don't deserve you. I hurt you."

Moira doesn't know which she should be more surprised at – at Erik's admission that she, his love rival whom he hated, had been right in saying he did not deserve the man they loved, or the self-deprecation and guilt in Erik's low voice. She is surprised Erik even remembers the harsh words she had said to him, she had been sure he had forgotten about them- he didn't seem the type to dwell on another's judging of his character.

This is a new side to Erik she has never seen before, and it is hard to believe the man in front of her is the same man whom had killed ex-Nazis with no mercy, whom had glared at her with fury in his eyes while threatening to kill her, whom had hurt Charles, the one person he trusted and loved, and almost caused him to shed tears.

The man she sees is one she feels like she has never seen before. The Erik she is witnessing is a vulnerable being, speaking words no one except the one whom loved him would ever imagine he was capable of even thinking.

It is this Erik which Charles reaches his hands out to, this vulnerable man whom he draws into his arms, with nothing but understanding and love in his blue eyes. "That doesn't matter to me, Erik."

"I'm sorry," Erik begins in a rasp, but stops as Charles puts a finger on his lips. His lips move. "Charles?"

Charles merely smiles beautifully at him. He removes his finger from Erik's lips. "Do you love me, Erik?"

"Yes," Erik says immediately, his voice almost reverential as he stares into Charles's deep blue eyes. "I love you, Charles."

"Then you have nothing to be sorry for," Charles says generously, smiling with shining contentment in his eyes. "To have you return my love for you – that is enough for me."

Erik stares. Then he returns Charles's smile in relief, meeting Charles's eyes as he says, "I will never leave your side again. This I promise you, Charles."

"Erik my love," Charles says tenderly, with happiness in his voice. And as he leans forward, raising a hand to cup Erik's cheek and initiating their third kiss of the night as he touches his lips to Erik's, Moira turns and quietly makes to leave the lovers to their privacy.

The door is still opened slightly, and Moira opens it as softly as she can. She steps out into the hallway, reaching out her hand to the handle and turning it to close the door with a whisper of a sound behind her.

She is wide awake now, with thoughts racing around in her mind and her body moving as if on autopilot as she moves across the hallway.

Surprisingly, her first clear thought is that Charles hadn't noticed her presence. He had been so engrossed in Erik, in the surreal moment, so touched by the words of the man he loved he hadn't noticed her standing like a statue at the doorway. Moira thinks of the times Charles had turned around to greet her with his smile, sensing her approaching presence before she even spoke a word.

As Moira descends the stairs, she feels the first tear roll down her cheek. She is nowhere close to sleeping, and she knows, blearily, where her new destination is.

It does not take her long for her to reach her destination – the piano in the mansion. As she makes her way towards it, Moira remembers that night – recalls hearing Charles playing the beautiful melody, playing for the absent Erik, looking like an Angel in the moonlight, an Angel whom did not belong to her.

Charles had given her confirmation of that fact himself, Moira thinks as she sits down on the black piano chair, reaching out her hands to lift the lid. She remembers her love calling Erik his love and swallows, hurt stirring in her chest.

Moira stares at the black and white keys, wondering dazedly what song she should play. She cannot help but feel anger, anger and jealousy and envy at Erik only needing to attempt to apologize, and make a promise she doubts he will be able but at the same time hopes he will keep, to get Charles to call him his love.

She is tempted to play a loud song, a harsh and fast song to express her anger at the injustice of the situation; anger and frustration that she had always been the one there for Charles, her love, but he had ended up giving his heart to the hostile, cold, broken Erik, like Erik had claimed.

Moira knows why Charles had chosen Erik – knows Erik is his only equal. But it doesn't stop her from wondering what he had that she didn't. Was it because he was a mutant? Was it because he could protect Charles from danger? Was it because he could be a good father to the children?

When Moira puts her fingers to the keys, different memories are filling her mind. Memories of Charles, of her love looking heartbroken at Erik's rejection, of him looking relieved but hesitant at Erik's offer of the porridge he himself had made, of the love and understanding in his eyes as he brings Erik close to him.

When Moira plays, it is a smooth, light but sad melody. She has not touched the piano for quite some time, but she supposes the saying that you never truly forget something you've learnt is true as her fingers moves across the keys in an almost automatic fashion, contrasting the emotional melody they produce.

As Moira plays, tears slip out of her brown eyes, sliding down her cheeks. She sheds tears, tears of frustration, sadness and the hurt in her breaking heart; silent tears, as she plays the song which is bringing her to tears for the second time.

Her throat is dry, clogged with tears of heartbreak as she plays to try to express the hurt and sadness in her heart. She is tempted to sing in an attempt to express her emotions through the music in the air, but her attempt at the first note comes out in a choked sob.

She wonders how Charles had done it, remembering how he had been playing the piano to alleviate his feelings for Erik. She wonders how he can play such an emotional and heartbreaking melody without crying, wonders how he had retained all that sadness and heartbreak in his shining blue eyes.

Moira only gets to play the first verse and chorus of the song before she breaks. Her fingers still on the keys, Moira lets out a pained gasp, releasing the sobs from her throat as she lowers her head, her heart slowly but surely breaking in her chest.

It hurt, it hurt so much. It hurt more than the time she had been shot close to a fatal spot in a dangerous CIA mission, hurt more than when she had realized she had hurt Charles. It hurt both emotionally and physically, and Moira is at a lost as to what to do– what to do to cease the pain and hurt emerging suddenly in her broken heart.

For the first time, she finds herself regretting loving Charles. She finds herself regretting loving the insanely kind man with his pretty blue eyes and genuine smile, his accepting nature and resolved mind. Moira finds herself regretting loving Charles, to the extent that she would do anything for him, anything for him to be happy, even if it meant she wouldn't have his love.

For that is what she knows she would do, knows what she must do. Charles has already declared himself to Erik, has already declared his love for him. There is nothing she can do anymore, nothing she can do that will make Charles love her. Perhaps that had been the way from the start.

Love hurt. Moira thinks insanely, that it is nothing like the love in fairytales she had found herself wanting to have when she had been a little girl, hoping that when she grew up she would find her own Prince Charming with his pretty blue eyes, gentlemanly nature and handsome face- that she would find someone whom loved her just as much as she loved him; someone who could make her happy.

Fairytales were nothing but a lie – they spoke nothing of the dark truth of unrequited love. They spoke nothing of a dark prince whom Prince Charming would fall absurdly in love with, despite his gender, despite his cold eyes and nature, despite all the odds against them.

Moira sniffs. She inhales, and exhales, trying to calm herself down. Her heart is broken, by Charles, by the man she loved.

But that didn't mean it was the end of the world.

When Moira is sure she has finished crying, she stands up. She removes her fingers from the keys, using her hands to close the piano lid.

It closes with a soft sound. Moira swallows. She turns, taking steps away from the piano and towards the exit of the room. She remembers the happiness in Charles's eyes, the tender way he had called Erik his love, and is unable to smile.

Moira knows she should be happy for Charles. And if she looks deep enough into her own mind, her own heart, she knows she is; happy for Charles that he was happy, that he had found love with someone else, even if it was not with her.

But right now, she is still hurt. Moira also knows she has just started on the long road to recovery, although she has doubts she will fully heal. She is hurt by unrequited love, and cannot feel the slightest bit of gladness, of happiness, even if it is for the man she loves.

For the second time in the day, Moira is not sure on what she should feel, as she exits the dark room, as silent as a shadow like she had been, while witnessing the extent of Charles's love for Erik, both in the past and in her own conflicted mind.