With proper material for the foundation, and the combined efforts of Erik and Jean, it took mere hours for the mansion to be in working order again. By the end of the week, Charles had moved the students out of his family vacation house on Oakland Beach ("Convenient, that," Arya had commented) so they could all resettle in the new and improved Institute.

Arya's recovery was a short but arduous process, as it always was. Charles almost never left her side. Whenever he did, it was because she was getting tired of his overbearing company and wanted to speak with other friends. Raven was first to the catch; she'd given Arya a tight hug and spoke to her of trivial things, at first, which Arya was grateful for. Eventually, however, she'd moved onto the topic of training new X-Men.

"It can't always be you putting your life on the line," Raven explained. "Hank is putting one of the free rooms in the basement to good use, designing it to be some kind of simulation area. And Erik's been talking about getting a hold of one or two Sentinels, from ten years ago—he'll only control them enough so he can bring them to the mansion, of course," Raven quickly amended once she saw the growing look of scorn in Arya's face. "Once they're here, Hank will reconfigure them and then… boom. We have training bots."

"Raven, you know how I feel about Erik. I don't think I'm capable of ever trusting him again, not after Cuba, and then Paris…"

"We're keeping a close eye on him. I promise." Raven linked their fingers together, staring earnestly. "But you should talk to him, Arya. Get some closure."

Arya blinked, unhappy with the notion of having to sit through an entire conversation with someone she absolutely despised. In the end, though, she could never say no to Raven.

She nodded her agreement, but managed to put off said conversation for a whole three days. In the course of those three days, she instead worked to stitch up her relationship with Charles, as well as with Jean Grey. After an hour or two of guilty ramblings, it's okay's and it's not your fault's, the young telepath left Arya's room with a distinctly less troubled aura than before.

Peter was as bubbly as ever, despite the cast on his leg. Arya noticed that he'd gotten a clique of his own, one that consisted of him, Kurt, Scott, Jean, and one of the older students named Jubilee. As one who'd been walking the halls of the mansion for a long time, however, it was easy to see things that someone perhaps wouldn't want her to see. Private exchanges. Beseeching looks. Arya smiled ruefully to herself. It was good that Peter was trying to draw Storm, the former enemy, into his circle. She just hoped that he was being careful.

She talked to Scott too. About Alex. It hadn't been an easy chat, but she shared all she could with him, assured him that his brother had loved him very much. She couldn't tell if he was crying behind the deep red tint of his shades.

Arya couldn't put off her conversation with Erik forever, though. Raven approached her one day and told her that he wasn't planning on staying for much longer. If he felt like it, he could even walk out the doors of the mansion the following morning and no one would stop him. Charles' orders.

It was only due to this that one evening, after the students had gone to bed, Arya went to the parlor in the second floor. She wasn't surprised to find Charles and Erik there, playing chess in the soft lamplight over two glasses of scotch. It was very nearly a nightly occurrence.

When Charles caught sight of her, he straightened up in his wheelchair. "Arya," he exclaimed. "I thought you'd gone to bed."

"I would have but I've got… business to attend to." She cast a pointed glance in Erik's direction, raising her eyebrow the slightest bit for added emphasis. And Charles wasn't a professor for no reason. He caught on quickly.

With a few murmured words and a last sip of scotch, he exited the game and turned away from Erik. As he wheeled towards her, he reached for her hand. "Is everything alright?" There was not only concern in his eyes, but suspicion. Erik may have been his friend but even Charles was aware of the animosities he was capable of.

And that was a cruel reality.

Arya smiled in reassurance. "I just want to talk to him."

Charles placed a lingering kiss on the back of her hand, just below her knuckles, before leaving the room. He closed the door behind him.

Silence.

Arya could practically hear the gears turning in his head, but his gaze never wavered from hers. He did not stiffen in his seat; in fact, he looked as calm as could be. His finger played with the armrest of his chair, scratching against the wood. Arya was reminded of a tiger, the way its tail twitched from side to side as it prepared to pounce on its prey.

"I was beginning to think you would never gather the courage to approach me," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

She refused to be the young, naïve rabbit, trapped in his hold.

"I don't owe you anything," she said. "Not even this. I only came because Raven wanted it—Charles, too, even though he's never said anything."

An eyebrow was raised. "I switched sides to help you save the world, and yet you say you don't owe me anything."

"You've been against us more times than you've helped. This doesn't make us even. Not even close."

He sighed, lips protruding, hinting that he was licking his teeth. Whether in amusement or frustration, Arya couldn't tell. She watched him, though, as he sank deeper into his chair. His gaze switched to where his index finger was picking at the edge of his armrest.

"I understand that an apology is in order," he said, clearing his throat.

Arya relaxed; maybe there was hope for civilized conversation after all. In a conscious effort to not be so imperious, she slipped into the chair across from him, dragging it back a bit so they weren't so close. She gazed at him over the chess board, unfinished and without a victor.

"Siding with Apocalypse was the wrong move, I know that now," Erik began. "But he spoke with such conviction and he was so certain of himself, certain that nothing was strong enough to get in his way."

"He spoke like you." She waited for Erik to look at her again before continuing, her anger returning to fan the flame behind her eyes. "All those years ago in Cuba, that's what he sounded like. So righteous. It was your only fault." Her lip curled. "Hubris."

"I wasn't going to destroy the entire world to reach my goal."

"But you were willing to kill to get what you wanted."

"Yes. And so were you." He picked up his glass, swirling the scotch around. Arya watched the motions so she wouldn't have to look at his face. "You killed Apocalypse, didn't you? Vanquished the monster so you and Charles could have peace. How are you so different from me then?"

"I wasn't killing for revenge."

"Weren't you?"

"I went after Apocalypse because he had Charles," Arya snapped. "Anyone who chose to stand in my way would've found that to be the last mistake they ever made. I didn't care."

A spark appeared in his steely eyes. "And so there is the truth." He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and drank from his glass. An aura of satisfaction exuded from him, and Arya knew why. She had proven his point for him.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded towards the decanter filled with amber liquid. "Can I have some of that?"

She ignored the smirk that crept up his lips, instead watching as he refilled Charles' glass and handed it to her. A peace offering, perhaps. She accepted and took a long swig. It helped to calm her, focus her thoughts.

Minutes ticked by.

"I'm sorry about your family."

Erik's eyes shot towards hers, suddenly blazing with pain and anger. Gone was any trace of his smugness; this was Magneto now.

"Really, I am," Arya continued, looking down at the single mouthful of scotch that she had left. "I can't imagine losing Charles and… and the baby." She risked a glance upward to see if she was making him more upset, but surprisingly, her words seemed to have calmed him a bit. "I know you've gone through a lot, Erik, I understand. I lost my family too… but I moved on. I found a new one. I found Charles, Hank, Raven. The students. Here, you have more family than you know too."

The corner of his mouth ticked up a bit. "Raven told me the same thing. Strange." His gaze settled heavily on her. "What aren't you telling me?"

Arya finished her scotch, poured herself more, and finished that refill as well. Liquid courage—to be the bigger person. She pushed her glass away afterwards, though. She didn't want to drink too much and risk putting the baby in danger.

"Charles wants you to stay, but I know you won't," she said. "And I won't lie: I'm glad you're leaving. But I also respect Charles. I respect that you're his friend and that he'll want to see you again. If you want to come visit him, fine. Listen closely, though." She leaned forward, hardening her gaze into something menacing. "If I find out that you're bringing bad business into my home, I won't hesitate to kill you."

She had been prepared to deal with his wrath, his contempt, even his mockery. He surprised her though, by smiling.

"You have a child to think about now. I understand. More than you know, Arya."

Yes, she thought. I suppose he does.

He raised his glass to her and drank deeply. A truce.

Arya allowed a smile and hoped to god that Charles would sever ties with him soon. She didn't trust Erik. She never could again.

But she sure as hell could watch him like a hawk for the years to come.

Classes resumed and the good-natured hustle and bustle of students returned to the Institute. Supplies were restocked, schedules were reviewed, and life went on. Controversy and debate continued amongst those without the X-gene. Something so big couldn't be kept hidden from the students, at least not for long. Charles made sure to tell the staff to keep everyone calm, to maintain the charade of their little bubble.

Arya knew better than to be fooled. She knew that state governments were already using up funds to rebuild their nukes. Humans feared mutants, and they would continue to do so for a long time. Perhaps even long after Arya's lifetime. She had the right to be wary of them in return.

Once a week, Raven and Hank would meet with Peter, Scott, Jean, Kurt and Storm, and bring them to a room in the basement, the only very recently dubbed "Danger Room". Erik had made sure to keep his word about the Sentinels—he was able to collect them and bring them to the mansion before he left. Hank had done quick work of reconfiguring them. They stood behind the walls of the Danger Room, waiting to be activated.

Arya was always there for every second of the training sessions. Sometimes, Raven would drag her out into the open to demonstrate a point she wanted to make, or to help exhibit one of her combative strategies. Arya preferred to just watch from the sidelines though, with Charles and Hank. Observing. Reflecting.

Images of Apocalypse would spring to mind, of the ghastly time she had spent in his mind. His voice would return to her, knowing and derisive. She envisioned a world in which she had accepted his offer—to rule by his side, as equals; to have burned the world down and rebuilt it beside him.

Him.

Apocalypse, not Charles.

Familiar anger bubbled up from within her as she watched. Storm was all white eyes and crackling electricity; Scott was brute force. Peter was a blur, as was Kurt, dropping in here and there and providing the necessary distractions against the Sentinels. Jean, Arya was pleased to notice, had finally grown into herself. The timid girl unsure of her strength had disappeared, replaced with a confident woman who knew how to juggle offense and defense.

They were a unit. A team.

"What's wrong?"

Arya flinched when she felt someone touch her wrist. But it was only Charles. He grabbed her hand, unfurling her fingers from where they had clinched into fists. His eyebrows furrowed together in concern. Her nails had dug into the skin of her palm, drawing blood.

"Come with me," Charles said—nothing else, before turning away and exiting the Danger Room. That was how Arya knew that she was in for a serious discussion.

Reluctant, she followed him out of the basement and into his office. There he dropped all pretense of being Professor X and easily slipped into the role of just Charles. "What's on your mind, love?"

She released a shaky breath. "I'm… terrified."

"Of what?"

"Myself."

His frown deepened. "Why?"

"I'm just so angry all the time. I know you've noticed. I've seen you watching me." She took a deep breath, yet it did nothing to calm her jangling nerves. "It's like how Erik was, you know? Before you taught him to compartmentalize. He always relied on his hate, his fury, and that's what I did when they took you. It worked better for me even though I know it shouldn't have. When the mansion was destroyed, and they took you, it was the only thing that kept me going."

Hesitantly she met his gaze. "It was how I defeated Apocalypse."

"No," Charles said immediately, startling Arya. She would have mistaken him to be upset with her if it weren't for the gentle spark in his eye. "You defeated Apocalypse because you are one of the strongest mutants I know. Perhaps even stronger than me."

She rolled her eyes. "If that's supposed to make me feel better—"

"Arya, listen. Listen to me." He guided her down onto a chair so that they were eye level with each other. "You are not Erik. Your roads have diverged time and time again, because you've never chosen to turn your back on mankind. You've chosen to help them. And you are helping them by being here, teaching these children, helping them be the best versions of themselves that they can possibly be."

He smiled, almost ruefully, and shook his head. "You are stronger than the rest of us. That is what I admire about you."

Arya almost rolled her eyes again at his attempt for flattery. She only just managed to hold back though, instead pleading to him with her eyes, glazed over with tears.

"You'll help me become myself again?"

"We have all the time in the world." It was here that he seemed to hesitate. A flush crept up his neck, settling on his cheeks and making him look rather like a tomato. It was quite endearing.

"What is it?" Arya asked.

"I'd meant to wait until… well, until we'd scheduled an actual date again but this—this seems as good a time as any."

Charles never stuttered. Mystified, Arya watched as he wheeled to sit behind his desk, pulling a drawer open and rummaging around inside.

He pulled something square and black out of the drawer, a box of sorts. He returned to his place in front of her, all the while keeping his hand closed around the object.

Then he unfurled his palm, brought his other hand up, and pulled the lid open. And she understood.

She laughed because it was so unconventional. There was no trail of rose petals, no romantic dinner, and no candlelight. Not even a sneaky way of doing it to have her crying in joy and surprise.

But she still cried, because with all her faults, she could still offer him this.

"Charles," she laughed, wiping the tears from her cheeks even as more continued streaming from her eyes. "It's been twenty years."

"Exactly," he said. "I don't want to go through another global crisis without knowing that I did everything I possibly could to make you happy—"

"But you already make me happy, Charles. So, so happy."

"And to make you completely and irrefutably mine."

Arya laughed again as he gently took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger.

"I'm sorry this wasn't as grand as other people have made it out to be," said Charles, sounding almost petulant. "I just thought it didn't matter all that much. It won't really change anything, will it? I mean, we've been together for twenty years. This will just make it official on paper—"

She halted his rambling by kissing him full on the mouth.

Seven months from then, their baby would be born prematurely and would stay within the NICU for eight weeks.

Elijah would grow to be a difficult child, always demanding his parents' attention. Arya would grow white hairs because of him, but Charles would adore her all the more. There would be days without rest and nights without sleep. There would be arguments about whose turn it really was to put Eli back to sleep. And then, years later, more arguments about whether or not to send him back to school after his mutation would be triggered there by crueler, bigger kids of his age.

Arya would consider fleeing to New Rochelle to get a break from it all, without telling Charles. She wouldn't go through with it. Charles, in return, would shout at Arya for breaking things again during one of her bouts of anger. He wouldn't mean anything that left his mouth, and would apologize the same evening. With his lips and with his body.

Of course, there was no way of knowing these things ahead of time. In that little study in the School For The Gifted, Arya was satisfied to merely sit in the lap of the one she loved and comb her fingers through his hair.

"Mrs. Arya Xavier," she murmured against his skin, pulling away just enough to see Charles grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh I do like the sound of that."

Final Author's Note:

I know this has been a long time coming, but let me just leave a few notes here in case anyone is curious about anything.

1. Sorry that the proposal was so sudden and simple, but like Charles said, they HAVE been together for twenty years. There have been, and will be, many other chances for romance.

2. I hope it's alright that I decided against calling their son "David". I just thought that David is the son of Charles Xavier and Gabrielle Haller, not of Charles Xavier and Arya Jacobs. I'm sure Gabrielle and Arya have very different ways of thinking. ;)

3. For any readers who might be upset that Arya and Erik didn't ACTUALLY reconcile, I'm sorry but it really wouldn't be in Arya's character to forgive him so quickly. It was a last minute decision to even have them talk in this chapter - because, as Raven said, closure!

And THAT'S IT! The final resolution of Mercury's Red Flag.

I have to admit, there have been long stretches of time where I considered dropping this story and Arya altogether. I am very happy that I didn't. This has been my longest piece of writing to date; I reread some chapters from Breach and Rectify—and yes, I did cringe a bit because the writing was so different from what I have going now. But I'm still so very proud of it, and I'm so thankful that you readers have stuck around for so long, through my ups and downs and melodramas.

I won't be writing a fic for Dark Phoenix, if any of you were thinking of asking. Quite frankly, I've squeezed all the brain juices I possibly can trying to finish this story. No, I think I'll let you readers decide for yourselves what else could possibly happen to Charles and Arya during that movie.

I know there are a lot of plot holes in this story, one of the major ones being: if Arya killed both of her parents, why wasn't she immediately brought into police custody as a prime suspect? In a better world, I would go back and fix this, but honestly I don't care to. This story has exhausted me to the fullest so I'm just going to leave MRF as it is, with all its flaws. I'm sorry if any of you mind.

Thank you all very much for dedicating your time and patience to Mercury's Red Flag. So long and good night, and may Charya live long and prosper!

With love,

ellesmer