The idyllic quiet of Oxford

A/N I decided to write this because I love the ship Charles/Moira, even if it's not a very common one. So this is it, hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it all belongs to Marvel!

Moira sips her coffee nervously. She can't think of anything else to write for her report. The city is beautiful, full of beautiful things, but she can't write that. The CIA aren't particularly interested in the architecture of Oxford, just the people who move within it.

Not just any old people either. She couldn't write about the man jogging, or the lady walking her dog. She couldn't write about the children playing on the swings in the park, or the couple walking by the riverbank. She had to write about suspicious behaviour.

She snorts. As if there could be anything suspicious about the idyllic city of Oxford. It's too calm, too quiet, too sleepy. For a city, anyway. It's nothing like New York. New York is full of shouting, and hectic chaos, in a nice way. This place, it's nice to, but is the polar opposite. you can't compare either city to the other. It's like consorting the Shire to Minas Tirith.

She's sitting a cafe looking out onto the park. It's full of people, but she feels quite alone.

Nobody wants to talk to the quiet brown haired young woman in the corner, sipping her coffee and looking at the pad of paper on her table like it could explode any minute.

Although, Moira thinks, it's not the paper that's going to explode. It's Stryker's head when he gets her report and sees the lack of evidence that Agent Five has betrayed them and run away to live in England, that will explode.

The reason she was sent to England in the first place was because she was one of the best agents the CIA had to offer. Stryker had always been trying to get rid of her, as he was not fond of the fact that Moira was a woman. Any excuse, and she was sure she'd be fired.

Not that she minded that much, though. Lately the CIA had become rather a different place, and Moira wasn't drawn into the web of secrets anymore. She just wanted to leave, maybe settle somewhere, maybe here.

She didn't know which of the three main factors affecting her life right now was the one affecting her unhappiness at work.

Was it the fact that the CIA was suddenly too tiring, too complicated, not what she signed up for? That's not saying Moira was a quitter, just saying she was trying to figure out what was best.

Or was it the fact that her long term boyfriend, Simon, had just left her for her best friend? Two solid columns supporting her had gone, run away to Vegas to get married, leaving Moira with nobody.

Was it her? Had she, despite all her best intentions, given up?

She didn't know anymore.

She sighs deeply, feeling the tiredness wash over her in soft waves, blurring the edges of our vision. Moira closes the notebook, and walks out the cafe. She squints in the bright sunlight, and a few people watching her laugh. She glares at them and continues on her way.

On the way back from the cafe, she walks through the University Campus. The grass seems unnaturally green here, like it's from a sci-fi movie. Maybe it is from another planet. All the people here are so clever, maybe they've invented extra green grass. Whatever they've done, it adds a certain brightness and happiness to the place. It's full of incredible architecture, and makes her feel like she really wants to leave her old life behind, settle here in England, forget about everything and everyone. Maybe become an old cat lady.

Moira laughs. Only 26, and picturing becoming an old cat lady? Maybe there really was something wrong with her.

"Laughing to yourself is the first sign of madness you know." Moira spins at the voice. She thought she was alone in the this quiet courtyard, and she jumps.

Behind her stands a young man, the eyebrows above his bright blue eyes raised. Moira blinks, then smiles. His brown hair falls slightly over his face, covering over his forehead a bit, and his lips are ready to smile. Moira knows that feeling, but hasn't felt it for a long time. It's the feeling she got when she first saw Simon. And look how that turned out.

"I thought it was talking to yourself." She smiles again.

He smiles too, and it lights up his whole face. Is he flirting with her?

"We must have different sources." He laughs, the British accent strong. "Would you like to come for a drink with me?" He grins lopsidedly.

Moira blinks again. Woah, forward much! But some, distant, lost part of her likes it. A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

She's about to say no, say that she's tired, but then suddenly, she checks her feelings, and she doesn't feel tired anymore. She feels awake. Awake, alert.

She thinks about Simon, about her last relationship, which was a disaster. She thinks of how she shouldn't risk it, she should stay at home with the ice cream( chocolate) and a box set of Downton Abbey. Perfect.

The future she glimpsed earlier flashes before her eyes. Her, as an old cat lady. She shivers inwardly, careful not to look like a weirdo. But the look the blue eyed man is giving her, she thinks she could do a cartwheel and he'd still be smiling at her. He smiles at her as if she's the most beautiful thing he's ever set eyes on, and this makes Moira feel a bit better. It gives her hope.

Hope that her life doesn't have to be heartbreak and paperwork.

The sun shines as she agrees, and walks with this young man down through the park.