(A/N) As always, glad you're all still enjoying. Here be the last chapter of the first story.

The Key To My Heart

Chapter 12: Unlock the Last Door

The group remained on Muir Island for about another week…a week Beast spent touring the facility and working closely with Dr. Kinross…a week in which they learned that Moira's optic nerves had simply died and there was no hope for her eyesight. She had already known this, of course, but she let them try anyway. She spent the week getting better acquainted with her new version of sight, using it as a practical means of getting around so she wouldn't have to depend quite so heavily on Mystique, though the two women would certainly admit they'd come to enjoy their closeness.

Charles and Erik spent the week learning the physical therapy exercises Charles would need in order for his legs to get better, and when they weren't doing that, they were with Beast making plans for the new Cerebro, or with Pele in her room, convincing her that just because she could no longer read people's thoughts, it didn't mean they were plotting against her. Helping Pele wasn't going to be easy, they knew, but they were both willing to give it their all.

When Dr. Kinross finally pronounced both Charles and Pele fit enough to return home, though, there was another problem for them to worry about. Erik was a wanted fugitive in at least four different countries. Even if he hid out at the Xavier mansion, it wouldn't be long before someone found him. Moira was the one who finally came up with the solution to their problem.

XxX

"You're sure he's dead?" the director asked Moira, staring at her suspiciously, even though the bandages wrapped around her eyes made it perfectly plain she couldn't see him. "There's no way he could have escaped?"

"None whatsoever," Moira assured him. "I saw him fall into the fire myself. Erik Lehnsherr may have been bulletproof, but even he couldn't withstand fire."

"And you saw this before you took the hot ashes to the eyes?" Agent Stryker asked her. "I don't know if I buy this."

"It's what I saw," she returned indignantly. The story they were going with was that there had been a fire in the underground complex and Erik had perished in it.

"Whatever happened is good enough for me so long as he doesn't show his face again. Though…MacTaggart…you do realize your days as an agent are over, right?"

"I know that," she said quietly.

"We'll arrange a modest retirement fund for you. Even though you were injured while you were out against orders, you did assist in the neutralization of a dangerous criminal."

"Thank you, Sir," she replied. It was too dangerous for her to remain with the CIA. They all knew it. Certainly, it would have been a valuable source of information, but the story they'd concocted to explain her "injury" would never wash with her coworkers at close quarters. They would figure out her secret eventually.

"Well…if that's everything, I suppose you're free to go, MacTaggert. Do you…need someone to escort you out?" the director asked awkwardly.

"No, Raven's waiting for me. She'll see I get home," the former agent said as she stood from the table. As she turned to leave, though, Stryker stood, as well.

"MacTaggert…if I ever find out you've lied to us, even a little…if I ever find out Erik Lehnsherr's still alive…I promise you you're going to regret this day."

"There's no need for that, Agent Stryker," she said calmly, not evening turning back to him. "After all, he is dead."

Moira pretended to fumble a little, even though she knew exactly where the door was. She did have to keep up appearances. Mystique was waiting just outside the interrogation room…waiting to take her back to Westchester…back to her new family.

XxX

Erik was, of course, not really dead. In fact, he seemed to be more alive than ever. Even with Charles in the wheelchair, the two of them seemed to be everywhere at once, beginning to implement Charles' plans for the mansion, even though there was already snow on the ground. Also, as Charles slowly made the progression back toward more solid foods, Erik discovered a love of cooking he never would have even guessed he possessed. He had never much concerned himself with food before, eating only what he needed to survive…but the act of cooking itself, especially for Charles, was something that made him feel oddly content.

It took several weeks, but Charles was eventually able to get around without the wheelchair. On his first official day out of the chair, Erik made an Italian dinner in honor of the occasion: spaghetti Bolognese with lots of garlic bread, followed by a dessert of tiramisu, which was only slightly overdone, but was still enjoyed by all. Erik and Charles ended up taking second helpings of the dessert back to the telepath's room, along with a bottle of wine, and followed by what Charles would only reveal to Erik as "unseemly" thoughts from the teenage boys. Interestingly enough, he found himself blushing at their encouragement. It was almost as if everyone in the mansion had been waiting for this night…even little Pele, for her part. They didn't rush things, though. They lingered over the tiramisu and wine for what felt like hours.

"I swear, Erik, you're going to make me fat," he teased as he finished off the last of his dessert.

"You think so?" the metal-kine teased right back, his own plate long cleaned and his third glass of wine about half-finished.

"Yes," Charles whined, running a hand down a decidedly slim hip. "I'll start losing my girlish figure. You don't want that, now do you?"

"I'm not worried," Erik said as he poured Charles another glass, finishing off the bottle. "Now that I don't have to carry you everywhere, I know you won't be able to sit still. I do have to admit, though…I'm going to miss carrying you."

"Are you, now?" Charles asked, his smile half-sad as he took a sip of wine.

"Absolutely," Erik replied, finishing off his own glass. "There is…one last place I'd like to carry you, though," he said, not looking at him as he spoke.

"Indeed?" Charles said quietly, looking down at his own nearly full glass. He knew what Erik was referring to, and he found it almost…cute. Erik had carried him to bed every single night since bringing him out of the camp, as he couldn't quite manage to get from the chair to his bed. He might have figured it out eventually, except that Erik had never allowed him the chance to do so…and tonight was different. They had come to the point where Erik would carry Charles to his bed not because he needed him to, but because he wanted him to.

When Charles finally looked up at Erik again, he found he was smiling at him…not smirking, or grinning wryly, but smiling…truly.

Knowing by this that he was ready, Charles returned the smile, setting aside his glass before turning back to Erik, reaching his hands out for his. Erik leaned toward him across the couch, taking his hands and closing the distance between them, pressing his lips gently against Charles'. As he slowly deepened the kiss, he found the younger mutant tasted of red wine and sugar, with just a hint of garlic from earlier. Groaning softly at the taste, he ran his tongue hungrily along Charles', wanting more of it. As they kissed, their hands slipped from each other's grasp, exploring the other's body.

Not even bothering to separate from him, Erik easily lifted Charles into his arms, continuing to kiss him as he carried him over to the bed. Only separating from him as he laid him down, he caught his gaze, resting a hand on his thigh.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice gentle…reassuring. Remembering their first time, Charles suddenly felt their positions had been completely switched: himself as the frightened virgin and Erik as the confident, more experienced lover. Charles opened his mind to Erik, letting him know without words just how grateful he was that he was asking…that he would allow him to say that he wasn't ready and stop right here, no matter how much he wanted this. Erik just smiled as he received his thoughts, waiting patiently for his answer.

"Let's find out," he said with a grin, a small flicker of his former cavalier self returning in the expression.

Grinning right back, Erik leaned in close, pressing several kisses to the telepath's neck as he reached for the hem of his sweater vest. When he had to pull away to pull the thing completely off, Charles groaned in protest at the loss of contact. Erik was back on him almost immediately, continuing to kiss his neck as he unbuttoned his shirt. Charles moaned softly all the while…right up until Erik's lips found the pulse point in his neck. The kiss sent a spark of electricity flying through his nerves and he cried out, briefly digging his fingers into Erik's shoulders.

The metal-kine growled softly against the pressure point, sending another delicious shudder through the younger mutant's body. Then, as Erik pushed the unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders, Charles took the opportunity to grab at the taller man's black shirt, easily pulling it off. Feeling like he ought to return the favor, he quickly moved forward, taking one of Erik's bared nipples in his mouth and massaging the other with his hand. Erik convulsed against him, letting out a sound so high-pitched it might almost have been a squeal. His face reddened slightly, but he really couldn't bring himself to be ashamed of the noise because the sensations caused by Charles' mouth were just so intense, sparking from his chest directly to his groin. He chuckled quietly as the telepath continued to suck on the sensitive nub of flesh.

"Verdammt. And here I was going to take the lead this time."

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Charles said as he pulled back a little. "I just happen to know a few more tricks."

"You'll have to teach them to me, then. All of them," Erik said, his tone sultry as he reached down to undo Charles' pants. The telepath obligingly lay back down on the bed, raising his hips so Erik could pull the rest of his clothing all the way off.

This was the position they maintained for a while: Charles sprawled out on his bed with Erik straddling his nude body and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. When Charles felt like he couldn't take it anymore without coming, he surreptitiously reached for Erik's belt, undoing it and slipping a hand inside his pants before he even knew what was happening.

"Hey…why do you get to keep your pants on?" he teased, giving Erik a few playful squeezes between his legs. The metal-kine nearly collapsed on top of him.

"Damn tease," he whispered in Charles' ear before taking it into his mouth. Charles gasped as Erik's tongue swirled around the sensitive flesh.

"Look who's…talking," he half-moaned in return, bucking his hips gently up against his lover's. Grinning wolfishly at this, Erik briefly rolled to the side to kick off his own clothing, leaving Charles panting and aching with desire. Before coming back to him, though, Erik reached into the nightstand beside the bed and pulled out the old jar of Vaseline. Charles grinned when he saw it. "You were keeping it there, Erik? Were you planning on seducing me?"

"Something like that. Just saving time, really," he said, popping the jar open and dipping two fingers in. Charles quickly sat up, moving to kneel before Erik.

"Be careful of your knees," Erik half-scolded him as he wrapped his free arm around Charles' shoulders, drawing their bodies close together. Charles just groaned.

"That's…what you're thinking about right now?" he teased, grinding gently against the metal-kine. The motion quickly persuaded Erik to continue.

"You ready?" he asked Charles, slowly bringing the lubricated fingers into position behind him. Charles nodded, wrapping his arms around Erik's shoulders in order to brace himself.

The moment Erik began to enter him, however…things began to change. He remembered hot, unyielding hands on his body…a throbbing mind thrusting into his…baring his bleeding soul to an uncaring world. He remembered how weak he'd been…how helpless…how in pain. All in a flash, it was as if the weeks had never passed and he was still in the cell with Shaw…and this time, the violation wouldn't stop with just his mind.

"Wait…wait…" he tried to whisper, but no sound came. His throat had gone dry with terror. The dull burn of Erik's fingers was amplified by his sudden fear and it became the most acute of pains. He wanted to scream…couldn't. Wanted it to stop…powerless. Only when his mind was completely consumed with pain and terror did he manage to let out a small whimper.

"Erik…stop…please stop!"

Hearing the tiny, desperate plea, Erik looked down to see that Charles was crying. Immediately, he withdrew.

"What's wrong? What is it?" he asked, gently grabbing his shoulders. "Did I hurt you?"

"It's…n-nothing…like th-that," he choked out pitifully, his wits slowly starting to return to him. "I just…I'm…I n-need a - minute."

Seeing that this was going to take more than a minute, Erik wrapped his arms around Charles once more, gently coaxing him into sitting on the edge of the bed with him. He said nothing, passed no judgment, simply held Charles close and allowed him to sob into his shoulder.

"I…I'm sorry," Charles eventually managed to say, still clinging to Erik for all he was worth.

"It isn't your fault," he soothed. "You've nothing to be sorry for."

"I…I've n-no right…to behave l-like…this," he insisted through the tears. "You…you w-were…just a…child…whe-when-"

"Yes, I was just a child," Erik interrupted calmly, "but he didn't do this to me. You have every right to react this way."

"B-but…what if it…n-never stops? W-what if…I can't…ever be w-with you…ever again?" he wondered, a fresh wave of tears washing over him.

"That's okay," Erik said, gently rubbing his back. "It doesn't matter if the only sex I get for the rest of my life comes from my right hand…so long as you're okay."

"I wouldn't…be okay," he hissed. "Sex is…wonderful…and you…deserve…to h-have it…in your life."

"Well…if that's how you really feel…I suppose you'll come back to it again when you're ready," the metal-kine said, amazing even himself with his own tenderness. He did not consider himself a kind person, and Charles knew that better than most…and yet…with the telepath, this sort of thing just…came naturally. He would do anything in his power to take away Charles' pain…to soothe his fears.

"I want…to try it again," the younger mutant murmured after several moments, his tears slowly starting to lessen.

"You mean…tonight?" Erik asked uncertainly. Charles turned in his embrace, looking up at him.

"Just…one more time. If I can't handle it…if I panic…we can stop. I just…feel like I need to do this. If I don't…if I run away…it means he wins. Do you…understand?" he asked, his lower lip still trembling slightly.

"Ja," Erik said, hugging him close one more time and kissing the top of his head. "Ich…verstehe. Es wird alles gut, mein Lieben," he said, knowing Charles would catch his meaning through his powers.

Laughing quietly, even though his eyes were still red from crying, Charles smiled weakly up at him. "You know…I've always loved it whenever you start speaking German."

"Really?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ja," Charles returned, his smile getting a little bigger as he leaned in to kiss him. "It's very…sexy."

Giving Charles an odd smirk as he extricated himself from him, he crawled back onto the bed, confident Charles would follow him. "You don't have to seduce me…if we're going to do this, we're doing it slow."

Nodding, Charles followed him. "Let's…let's do what we did before."

I want it to be…familiar.

"Just what I was thinking," Erik said, propping himself up against the headboard and making himself as non-threatening as possible, his arms lying open at his sides, inviting.

Charles grabbed the discarded container of Vaseline, moving in to straddle Erik's legs. Taking his time to lather the older mutant up, his erection returned easily enough.

Erik moved even slower than before when preparing his fingers for Charles. When he was finally ready, he pulled Charles in close to him, holding him tightly against his chest with his free arm.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered to him, gently pressing two fingers against his entrance…and as he pushed into him, Erik felt the telepath's mind open to his. Love, warmth, and trust flowed easily between them.

I love you…and I know you love me. I know you won't hurt me. The thoughts flooded Erik's mind. Charles was telling himself just as much as he was him.

As he made Charles ready for him, their minds began to meld gently together. Charles clung to him just as tightly through the mental link as he did on the physical plane…a rock to keep him from drowning in his own helpless fear. Erik remained steadfast for him, even as he was inundated with the telepath's mind.

You were strong for me. It's my turn to be strong for you.

When Erik received a mental signal from Charles that he was ready, he slowly withdrew his hand, helping him to position himself. Before he could move, though, Erik placed his hands on his hips, holding him in place.

"You're sure?" he asked him, steadily holding his gaze. Rather than answer, Charles leaned forward, claiming Erik's lips with his own as he closed the final distance between them.

At first, he was nervous and afraid, but rather than let Erik suggest that they stop, he held onto his consciousness, drawing warmth and love from it.

No…I can do this. I can. I won't let him take it from us.

Charles…I don't want to watch you hurt yourself…

At this thought, a tearful smile spread across the telepath's face and he rested his head against Erik's chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat for several minutes.

And that's how I know this is right. You care about me. No one else has…ever cared. No one except Raven.

Trusting to the utter sincerity he felt from his lover, Erik allowed it to continue. Charles began to move above him, slow, sensuous motions, up and down, drawing tremulous breaths from both their mouths. Erik reciprocated with a few gentle thrusts of his own, but his movements were limited in this position. It was mostly up to Charles from here on in…and he knew what to do. He rode Erik with gentle, rolling motions of his hips, drawing toward the final climax only inches at a time.

It seemed almost an eternity that they moved together on the bed, so intimately joined were their minds, souls, and bodies. Ultimately, it became difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. They were moving further and further into each other…truly becoming one…seeing the best and the worst of each other…and each only loving the other more. Surely, no two beings in history had known each other better.

As he drew closer and closer to his orgasm, Charles' breath came in increasingly sharp, shallow gasps. His mind was filled with the pleasure he was giving Erik…and when the other man suddenly struck the spot deep inside him that melted him with pleasure, he finally reached the height.

"Unh…Erik…" he cried out softly as his semen spilled between their bodies.

Charles' climax brought Erik to his own. He held Charles tightly against him, grunting softly as he finished in him. As he tumbled from the heights of the orgasm, he let his head fall against Charles' chest, and the telepath laid his head on top of his as he collapsed against him. They lay like that for a while, gently caressing each other's sweat-slicked skin and listening to the satiated sounds of their heavy breathing.

"Charles…mein Charles," Erik murmured against his chest, pressing a kiss to the sweaty skin.

"Ja," Charles returned with no small amount of triumph in his voice as he kissed the top of Erik's head. "Alle deine."

XxX

"So how's it going?" Mystique asked for the umpteenth time.

"They're fine now," Moira reported. While she still wasn't able to actively read minds, she could pick up the occasional strong thought…and the thoughts in the Xavier household were rampantly strong this evening. There had been some rough spots earlier, but Erik and Charles seemed to be doing fine now.

"Juicy stuff?" the shape shifter asked with a wry grin.

"Yes, very, from what I can tell," Moira said, sounding almost prim. "Can I please stop listening in on your brother's sex life now?"

"Sure," Mystique said flippantly before climbing into bed. "It's been an exhausting evening…making sure those two shack up. They needed it."

"Don't I know it. They've both been going to pieces for weeks," Moira said, following suit. While Mystique was naked, she was dressed in nothing but an old t-shirt, her usual sleepwear. The two of them had decided to continue their roommate arrangement. It worked well for the both of them…made them feel more comfortable…and while Moira knew why this was, she had decided from the very first that she would let Mystique figure it out for herself.

"So, we still in any danger of this Onslaught character making another appearance?" Mystique asked, only half-serious.

"Yes," Moira answered, all serious. She wasn't going to joke when it came to that. "I think…there's always going to be a danger of that…so long as Charles has people he loves and wants to protect. Onslaught isn't gone. He's only biding his time…waiting for Charles to suffer a moment of weakness."

"Charles isn't weak," Mystique insisted. She had a few problems with the way her brother dealt with the world, but she would still defend him to the death.

"No…no, he isn't. He's strong…but it's because he's so strong that he's fragile," the precog said cryptically. Mystique couldn't help but shudder. It felt almost…like an unintentional prophecy…like some unknowable, intangible point in the future had been horribly locked into place. On a night like tonight, Mystique had no desire to go down this road with her friend.

"I've been meaning to ask you," she started as she switched off the lamp, "what are you planning on doing with all those notebooks? Since you…can't really see them anymore."

"I've been thinking about…letting you see some of them," Moira said slowly. "Just you, though. I…I need help figuring them out. There are things I've seen that…that must not happen…no matter what."

"I'll do whatever I can to help you, but…there is one other thing I've been wanting to ask you; there's just…been so much happening."

"Yes?"

"When did…Irene Kinross become Moira MacTaggert?"

Saying nothing for a long while, Moira finally closed her sightless eyes and shook her head, reaching for Mystique's hand beneath the blankets. "I'll tell you all about her some day…but not tonight. All you really need to know right now is that I'm not either of those people. I can't be my mum forever."

"Who are you, then? What's your real name?" Mystique asked, suddenly feeling breathless.

"Destiny," the precog answered after another long silence.

"For your power?"

"No…not that, even. I want…to change things," she said quietly, squeezing Mystique's hand. "I want…to believe that anything can be changed."

"Then I'll help you," Mystique promised, returning the pressure of her hand. "I'll help you change the future…Destiny."

XxX

Charles woke alone the next morning, but his brief spike of fear was soon assuaged when he reached for Erik's mind. The metal-kine was busy in the kitchen.

Pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms and a robe, he quickly headed down, only slightly sore from last night.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he was greeted by the scent of blueberry pancakes. Coming up behind Erik, he slipped his arms around his waist and kissed the back of his neck.

"How did you know?"

"I was dreaming about it…and I can't stand blueberries, so I assumed it was carrying over from you."

"Heh, good guess. I'm sorry about that. What are you eating?"

"For now, I'm good with coffee," he replied, nodding toward the half-finished cup next to the plate of finished pancakes. "Any interest?"

"Absolutely," Charles said, going for the pot on the burner. He was more of a tea drinker himself, but since the coffee was already there, he wasn't going to complain. Once he'd made himself a cup, he topped Erik's off before returning the pot to the burner.

"Have a seat," Erik said, nodding toward a plate he'd set aside. "I'll be over in a minute. I'm almost done with the batter."

Taking a moment to slather the pancakes in syrup before he sat down, Charles couldn't quite bring himself to eat when he actually did sit. He just stared at his plate, watching air bubbles ooze up out of the syrup.

"You know…sometimes it just…doesn't feel real," he said, his eyes going distant.

"What?" Erik asked as he joined him at the table, though he had a feeling he already knew.

"This…any if it. I feel like I've only hallucinated the past month…and I'm about to wake up…back in that cell…" he whispered, his eyes bright as he gripped his mug in white hands. Reaching across the table, Erik placed his own hand on top of Charles'.

"Ich verstehe. Sometimes I feel like the last eighteen years have been a dream…and that I'll wake up back there with Herr Doktor about to shove needles in my eyes. You don't just…get over it. Sometimes, all we can do is…keep on breathing," he said, running a gentle thumb over Charles' knuckles, which slowly began to loosen their death grip on the mug. Charles closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths.

"Do you know…what day it is?" he asked when he opened his eyes again.

"Ah…Wednesday?" Erik guessed lamely after thinking about it for several minutes.

Charles chuckled. "Be that as it may, I was referring to the date. It's December twenty-fourth…Christmas Eve. I guess none of us noticed…with everything else going on."

"And…?" Erik prompted, not really sure where Charles was going with this.

"Heh, of course it wouldn't mean much to you. I forgot. Do you celebrate Hanukkah?"

"No. I haven't really done any of that since…since before the war," he said quietly, unable to keep himself from recalling the memory Charles had awakened in him.

"Well…whatever one happens to celebrate, it's still the holiday season. I'd been hoping we could give the children a proper one…especially Pele…even though I have no idea what sort of background she's from. My best guess is she's of Polynesian descent, but-"

"Charles?" Erik interrupted abruptly. "You were…going somewhere with this?"

"Yes, sorry. I suppose I just…want to start Pele's year off properly."

"I doubt Pele would know what to do with Christmas anyway."

"But that's what this year is for, Erik. To show her these things. Though…there is something I've been meaning to ask you…concerning that."

"What?"

"I was wondering…if you might be willing to do sessions with Pele and I?"

"What? You mean like…therapy?" he asked uncertainly.

"Something like that, yes. Pele…relates to you…in a way she can't relate to anyone else."

"You, too," Erik insisted, looking away from the telepath.

Charles shook his head. "Not like you. Your circumstances are much more similar than mine and hers. Please, Erik. It would be good for her…and it certainly wouldn't hurt either of us."

"Only if you're sure," the metal-kine said after a time. "There are things in my head no kid should see…things even you haven't seen," he warned.

"The same could be said of my and Pele's minds. There are things about me you don't know yet…things only a telepath could figure out…even after last night."

"I suppose I will see these things, though…if we do this."

"Yes. Are you sure you still want to?" Charles asked, reaching across the table to hold both Erik's hands in his.

Instead of answering, Erik leaned across the space between them and pressed his lips to Charles'.

It's fine. I don't mind it. What I do mind is if you let those pancakes get cold. I worked hard on those.

Laughing into the kiss, Charles finally broke it and went for his utensils, cutting into the sopping pancakes. "You're right. I'm sorry."

The brief moment of amusement was interrupted by a rustling from the kitchen doorway. The two men looked up to see Pele standing there. She was dressed in a simple white nightgown that had once belonged to Raven, and new dark hair was starting to sprout from her scalp once again, like the fuzz on a newborn's head. She stared at them for several minutes, saying nothing.

"Good morning, Pele," Charles finally greeted, smiling at her. "Are you hungry?"

For several more minutes, Pele continued to stare, her lips twitching occasionally.

"What are…those?" she finally managed to ask, sounding as if the words were stuck in her throat. Even after a month, she still wasn't used to not having instant access to any information she wanted. Charles had no doubt it frustrated the young girl to no end. She wasn't used to having to ask for things.

"These are pancakes, blueberry, to be exact. Would you like to try a bite? See if you want some?"

Nodding slowly, her face remaining carefully blank, Pele walked over to the table and Charles offered her his fork. Taking it, she eyed the food warily for several moments before sticking the fork in her mouth. Chewing contemplatively, her eyes slowly widened and the corners of her mouth twitched…almost seeming like a smile…but then her face snapped back to the guarded look…as if she were ashamed of almost revealing her emotional state.

"I…think I will have some of that," she said primly, returning Charles' fork. The next moment, the three boys tumbled into the kitchen, followed by the much more graceful Moira and Mystique.

"Sweet! Pancakes!" Banshee cheered.

XxX

When Richard Aldine answered his door on Christmas Eve, he'd been expecting carolers…not a man in a helmet, a diamond woman, and what appeared to be a demon. This wasn't the sort of thing that happened in Iowa Suburbia.

"Can I help you?" he asked slowly, fighting the impulse to slam the door in their faces.

"I imagine so," the man in the helmet began in a very suave tone. "Tell me, Mr. Aldine…where might I find your lovely daughter?"

A warning spark shot down Richard's spine at this. People like this wouldn't be looking for his daughter unless…

…they knew.

"Sally!" he shouted back into the living room. "Run! Take Ruth and go!" This was all he managed before the demon plunged a sword through his heart.

Moments later, a woman, Sally Aldine, appeared in the entry hall. She didn't even take the time to scream when she saw her husband dead. She turned and bolted back the way she'd come. The three mutants stalked slowly after her, knowing there was no need for them to hurry. Their prize was right where they wanted her.

Coming into the living room, they found Sally trying to hustle a girl up from the couch. She was about twelve with long dark hair, but the most striking thing about this girl was that she wore a blindfold around her eyes.

"Leave the girl and we will spare your life," the helmeted man told Sally. "If you don't, well…I believe you already know."

"She's my daughter!" Sally protested, placing herself squarely between the intruders and her child.

"Yes…you did well to give birth to such an exquisite creature, Sally Aldine. But she doesn't belong to you anymore. She will serve a greater purpose."

"What do you want with her?" Sally demanded.

"I find myself in need of a prognosticator…and she fits my needs perfectly. Leave her to us and we'll let you live."

Torn between what she already knew and her love for her baby, Sally turned back to her daughter, Ruth, who shook her head solemnly.

"No, they won't."

The helmeted man nodded, sighing before answering honestly. "No. We won't."

At these words, the demon sprang forward, making short work of Sally Aldine's head. The room, meticulously adorned with Christmas decorations, was sprayed with blood.

Throughout it all, Ruth hadn't moved. She stood beside the couch now, dripping with her mother's blood, shedding not a single tear for her parents' violent deaths.

"Hello…Sebastian Shaw."

"You've been expecting me," he said, pleased.

"I have. I knew you would come…long before I understood what the blood meant…I knew. I've been waiting."

"You knew…this whole time?" Azazel asked skeptically. "You knew…and you still remained? Why didn't you run? Why didn't you fight?"

"Because I knew I couldn't change any of it," she answered, her voice strained. "No matter how much I screamed or denied it…I couldn't stop you from finding me. None of us have the power to fight with destiny."

"Well said," Shaw said, extending out his hand to her. She came forward and took it. "Perhaps it's good I lost my first precog. You'll do splendidly, dear Ruth. Though…if you don't mind…may I?" he asked, reaching his other hand toward her blindfold. Ruth simply nodded and Shaw grasped the length of rough dark fabric, pulling it gently from her head and revealing what was underneath.

Ruth Aldine could never have shed tears, no matter how much she might want to…for she had no eyes, only bare stretches of flesh where they ought to have been.

"Ruth is a lovely name, to be sure," Shaw said, raising the young precog's hand to his lips and brushing a chaste kiss over her knuckles, "But I want to know…what you really call yourself…in the still watches of the night when they weren't listening."

"My name, Sebastian Shaw, maker of demons and angels…is Blindfold."

XxX

(A/N) So…enough to whet your appetite for the next in the series? Because yeah, this will, in fact, be a series. After all, I couldn't just change the defining moment in the First Class continuity and just leave it there, now could I? I suppose I could have just continued this, but I really felt like they needed to be separate stories, y'know?

Translations: Ja = yes. Ich verstehe = I understand. Es wird alles gut = Everything will be all right. Mein Lieben = my love. Alle deine = All yours.

Notes: 1 – Interesting thing. As I was working on this chapter, I had a bit of a revelation. Erik Lehnsherr, Magneto, slayer of humans…is whipped. He's so whipped it's hardly even funny. When the hell did that happen?

2 – Sex…hmm…that ended up being more of a spiritual mating than a physical one…but I guess that's just what they both needed it to be. I'm capable of writing much dirtier, I promise…as you'll hopefully find out in the future.

3 – And thus Moira's mutant identity is revealed. GeorginoschkaVincen, I hadn't actually heard of Blindfold before you mentioned her, so I believe I have you to thank for the evil little plot bunny that's germinating in the last scene. Thank you.

Well, in closing, I hope you all enjoyed 'The Key To My Heart', and hope to see you in its continuation, 'How Do You Measure…'