InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "These Things Take Time."

“Yes, Alastair, you heard me correctly,” Moira added another stack of freshly laundered scrubs to the open suitcase as she talked, “No, Alastair, I am not absolutely sure that it’s necessary.” The Cromleys had been the Kinross family solicitors for at least three generations, but Moira felt that the latest Cromley was by far the most useful.

She added several black plastic cases to the suitcase and checked the time on the large watch strapped to her left wrist. Moira smiled, thinking about the adorable young grad student who’d come to the Island initially to modify the algorithm on their whole genome sequencer and had ended up making modifications to many of the island’s devices. “Yes, Alastair, of course I’m listening, you just asked me when I would be returning. As I said before, I don’t have a return date.”

“Moira, what about the staff vacation plans we last spoke about?” Alastair doodled on the thick blotter that covered the top of the desk that served his father and his grandfather. He told himself that the large rock in the pit of his stomach was likely from the second helping of colcannon that his housekeeper had insisted on him taking.

At this, Moira paused. Leaving her staff behind felt as if she were abandoning children in Picadilly Circus. They’re adults, they will be okay. I’ve done all I can, she thought as she checked off items on her planner.

“Lady Moira...” Alastair let his voice trail off. The woman that he spoke to was a good twenty years older than he was. She had never indicated to him that she felt the need for his or anyone else’s protection. Yet, it was obvious that she had been concerned enough for her own safety and for the safety of her staff that the two of them had spent hours setting up trusts and shell companies, creating plans and backup plans. Alastair was sure that the extent of his father’s discreet services for the Kinross family had been limited to making sure that various trollops, actors, and journalists respected the right of the Laird to privacy. Lady Kinross was a much more interesting and possibly dangerous client. He often wished that he could brag to someone that for a forty year old solicitor with soft hands and a comfortable belly, he was rather a lot like James Bond.

It had taken months of polite and quite oblique inquiries before he had been able to contact the shadowy figures whose skills Lady Kinross required. Figures whose names he did not want to know, whose services he’d hoped would never be deployed. Alastair cleared his throat before speaking again, “Will you be needing a ride to the airport? It would be no trouble.”

Running her finger down the list she had made so many ago, Moira reviewed her plans. She felt a little ridiculous and wondered if all these arrangements would turn out to have been a rather expensive bit of silliness on her part. She hoped that they would be, “You’ve made arrangements for the delivery of the updated procedure manual to the staff, correct?”

“Of course, Lady Kinross. The courier company has instructions to deliver if 24 hours pass without a document edit.”

“Excellent,” she considered his offer and decided that unlike his father, this Alastair was much more prone to emotional displays. “Thank you for the offer, Alastair, I’m quite sure I can manage.” She listened as the solicitor said good bye for the third time and with great relief, she rang off.

When the British Airways 747 raced its way down the runway and the leapt into the air, Moira felt herself relax incrementally. She’d never been a nervous traveler, but then she’d never before traveled under such unusual circumstances. Settling into her seat, she checked her email and focused her attention on one of the several journal articles she’d promised to review. When the dinner service arrived, Moira tucked the article back into her bag and ate what looked absolutely beautiful, but tasted only marginally better than what was served in most NIH hospital cafeterias.

Having eaten, she settled back and closed her eyes for the rest of the trip.

International arrivals at La Guardia had always struck Moira as being analogous to Dante’s fourth circle of hell. People pushed against one another as if doing so would somehow make the line move more quickly. It was with great relief when she finally stepped out into the terminal and spotted the uniformed driver who held up a sign that read “KINROSS” printed on thick cardstock. She greeted him and said, “That’s a lovely jacket you’re wearing.”

His face was unreadable as he replied, “Thank you, me mum made it for me.” Moira then handed over her luggage and followed him to the waiting Escalade, confident that this was the driver that Alastair had arranged for her.

The drive from the airport to the Avengers Tower was short, barely thirty minutes, just enough time for Moira to review her notes, take a no-doz and smooth the wrinkles out of her plaid pants.

---

Tony waited in the lobby of the Tower, looking every bit the industrialist businessman having a meeting. The suit was a grey Tom Ford and the sunglasses were Dita Flight.006, the lenses lightly tinted blue. It was every inch the put together outfit, even his hair had just the right amount of product. It was like he was welcoming a visiting dignitary.

In a way, he basically was. Moira Kinross, formerly MacTaggert, was the best geneticist in the world. Her credentials were a mile long, as well as the contacts she had at her disposal. He couldn't imagine that someone like Moira wouldn't want to know about Genosha, but also that her friend Charles Xavier was upstairs and asking for her.

Of course, Tony wasn't about to drop that bombshell until they were alone in the executive only elevator, the one that went up to the residential floors and private labs. They were going to take a little detour to the medical area, but have a little chat along the way. He was aching to tell someone that knew genetics and ways that it could be manipulated. He'd only touched on that as a crash course when he helped Maya Hanson, and then removed Extremis from Pepper. He could unravel the riddle if needed, but that would take time. Right now, they needed the big guns on this.

Whatever had been ingested by Steve and Bruce had a detrimental effect a day later. If that made it into a water supply...he could only imagine the sort of harm that could happen.

Moira Kinross was a big gun. And Tony couldn't wait until it was pinpointed and ready to fire.

"Friday, is Lady Kinross' lab space done?" he asked his wrist watch.

"One hour, boss," Friday replied. "They're done moving in the heavy equipment and cleaning up."

"Great." He lowered his hand and anxiously watched for the car, saying low enough that the garage security guys nearby couldn't hear him, "This is somewhere between rolling out a red carpet and a game show."

She was probably going to be floored after she saw who was behind door number one.

---

The Escalade came to a smooth stop in front of the Avengers Tower. Moira leaned forward and told the driver, “You have your room booked, correct?” The man nodded solemnly.

Moira gathered her bag and waited patiently for the driver as he pulled her luggage from the back and then came around to open the door. She stepped out, and held out her hand for the handle of the suitcase.

“Lady Kinross, I’m pleased to….” he trailed off at the look on Moira’s face.

She held out her hand and said, “My bag, please. I will call you should the need arise.” Not waiting for a reply, she briskly walked into the lobby of the tower.

---

Tony knew Moira from pictures while he was reading up on her, and some lectures on Youtube that had been fascinating to listen to. If anyone would be able to help Steve and Bruce now, or be able to offer some answers about what was going on in Genosha,Tony had a good feeling that it would be her.

The moment he saw her, his expression brightened and he walked toward her, extending one hand for a handshake.

"Lady Kinross. Thanks for coming on short notice." He looked down at her bag. "You want someone to take that up to your room? I can get a courier."

He began to look around to see if he could flag someone down. He didn't offer to take it himself, since he still got weirded out about being handed things. Unless it was one of the family handing him things, he still got edgy about it.

---

Moira gripped Tony’s hand, shook it once and replied, “It was no trouble, Mr. Stark.” She glanced at the bag, thought about its contents and gave Stark a polite smile.

Thank you, but I’d prefer that we go straight to my lab. The luggage will keep until later, I’m quite sure,” the thick Scottish brogue of her youth had faded over the years as she’d spent hours lecturing to those whose ears were not attuned to it.

She took a step forward, “I’ll be taking report from the attending first, and then I’ll need to review labs and any recent findings. I’ll also need to see pathology reports, fibroblasts taken from all affected individuals?”

The building felt odd to Moira, as if she could hear a faint buzzing sound. Perhaps a bit of jetlag, she thought and turned to Tony expectantly.

---

As one of the tower couriers came over to take the bag, Tony fought off the urge to eyedart a little bit. They were told to take the bag up to the lab and not wait up.

"Sure, Doctor Banner has all of that upstairs. Let's head up to the medical labs," he told her, knowing full well that it was attached to the clinic where Charles was at. He gestured toward the elevator,where a nearby attendant was holding the door open for them already. "Private elevator. You're on the guest list, so if you need to get upstairs again, use this one okay? After you."

---

Generations of aristocratic genes had given Moira the almost preternatural ability to dismiss staff of all types. As the courier approached, Moira lifted one eyebrow and then with an almost imperceptible shake of the head she continued toward the elevator, bag in tow.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” As the door slid silently closed, she turned to him, “I would also like to be briefed on all information you were unable to share over a non secure line” She straightened the cuff of one linen sleeve and continued, “As soon as possible, please.”

---

Tony waved the courier off with both hands and while mouthing the word 'no' before he darted into the elevator. Once the door closed, he opened mouth, and out came a flood of words as he watched the numbers of the floor scroll by.

"It's a story. Here goes. We think this happened in Genosha, which is kind of like this whole Island of Doctor Moreau thing going on, as far as we've been able to piece together. Captain America and Hulk were impacted the day after we came home. Depowered. The only thing that happened to them was that they ate and drank while on the island, so it had to be ingested. I gather you've had time to look over the before and after DNA data. We're lost at who did it, or why. But we want to know. And we'd like to get our Captain and not-so-Jolly Green Giant back into fighting form."

That went without saying, because if she hadn't, she wouldn't be here. Tony drew in a deep breath and kept going.

"Thing is, we've had some people escape from that island after we left. Four people, so far. All in rough shape. Three have mentioned a doctor doing experiments there, honing or developing abilities...powers...that they didn't entirely realize they had."

He looked over at her without turning his head, his eyebrows going up, waiting to see what she thought of this. He didn't want to drop a bombshell too early since they still had quite a few floors to go, and her plaid pants were killing him enough already.

---

Moira listened intently, “Pardon, but it seems rather a leap to think that ingestion is the only possible route for exposure. Surely you remember the 2012 Hamburg case?” She paused thinking for a moment, “While that involved actual skin penetration, targeted transcellular permeation would also be an efficient means.”

She found herself slightly irritated by the slight implication that she wouldn’t have thoroughly studied the limited information they had sent her. Years of navigating the patriarchal assumptions of men in the scientific and technological fields had made Moira adept at managing her emotions, “Yes, I’ve seen the pre and post exposure reports.”

At the mention of medical experiments and the development of enhanced abilities through genetic manipulation, Moira’s face remained carefully composed. It had been decades ago when she and Charles had signed up for “Theoretical Genetics and Emerging Possibilities for Human Genomic Evolution” with Dr. Nathan Milbury. It had been the first class where genetic manipulation had been viewed not simply as a means of correcting genetic defect, but one where the possibility of improving humanity as a whole had been postulated. She and Charles had agreed that Milbury’s unwillingness to engage with the ethical implications of his work was disconcerting, despite the man’s impeccable reputation.

Her own research had made it clear that the exploitation and enhancement of certain genetic mutations certainly implied Milbury had been correct in his underlying assumptions: that certain mutations could produce enhanced physiological and biochemical characteristics in humans.

It had been almost three years since the day her research coordinator had approached her about a pattern that had emerged in their natural progression studies. Certain individuals, ones whose genomic profiles had been particularly interesting were increasingly difficult to contact. The first three who had not answered Sebastian’s calls had seemed to be a statistical blip. When the subsequent six similar subjects not only were unreachable, but also appeared to have gone silent on social media, Moira had told the worried young man to suspend followup until further notice.

It was then that she had enlisted Alastair to begin making the most delicate inquiries. The vague answers that slowly trickled in left her with a vague, but inescapable sense of foreboding, but one that she could not justify acting upon. However, when her oldest and dearest friend had been excoriated in the press then subsequently disappeared, she and Alastiar had been spurred into creating the contingency plans they had just deployed.

Moira’s` tone was clipped, “What precisely do you mean by ‘abilities’, Mr. Stark?” She turned to face him more squarely, “I did not fly across the pond to indulge euphemisms, I am interested in data and facts.” It was only the four years that she had spent atInstitut Villa Pierrefeu that forced her to smile and add, “Excuse my discourteous tone, it has been quite a long day.”

---

Tony wasn't man vs. woman whenever he relayed scientific or engineering information. She was data and facts. He was about troubleshooting and solutions, and he knew what it was like being called in on short notice. After all, he had to master the finer nuances of gamma radiation overnight after a spy briefcase was handed to him. After he pointed out he didn't like being handed things. Eeesh.

Everything else was like water off a robo-duck's back. He plowed right on ahead, no matter what. He was also comfortable with smart women. Pepper was a business genius. Jane managed to kick the planet in the nuts with astrophysics. And he would be the first to admit that Shuri was smarter than him and Bruce, combined.

He would also readily admit that this entire situation was enough to make the world's normally nicest guys, (Steve and Peter Parker, respectively), pretty freakin' grumpy. And he was trying really hard not to get grumpy right about now, since this universe had been a dumpster fire of suck recently. They were missing a lot of people to help out if things went wrong now.

"It's all right. There's a laundry list of people that'll tell you I'm the king of discourteous," Tony said, turning to face her. His gaze made him seem like an inquisitive bird pecking at threads just to see where they led. That ability afforded him the ability to grasp hold of concepts and run with them, even if he sometimes took those things to drastic extremes. "I mean superpowers, Lady Kinross. They're arriving with superpowers. We're talking deadly absorbing skin, walking through walls, solar plasma from fingertips, telepathy."

He tilted his head, studying her closely before continuing.

"Dr. Banner was thorough. Scanners couldn't pinpoint any exterior point of entry, so Shuri and I built an improved full body scanner overnight. Superconducting Vibranium electromagnet. Thanks to Shuri, it now outranks anything on this planet and it's safe for human use. You can even look at the ultrastructure of bacteria while it's still inside someone.

"Nothing else was out of the freaky ordinary for that place," he said, because those were variables they considered. "Our experiences were all similar when cross-checked. Except for one thing. The same waitress delivered drinks to those impacted. Ingestion is the only viable route we can, no pun intended, pinpoint. No pinpricks, rashes, or condensed focal points at a point of entry could be found in the epidermis. That's why we called you. There's another reason to. Someone that escaped from Genosha requested you. Personally."

---

The elevator rose smoothly, the lights of each floor passing, marking their quick passage up the tower. As they ascended, Moira noticed that the odd electrical buzz she half heard and half felt was also increasing. Putting it aside, she shifted the strap of her bag, “While I trust Dr. Banner’s assessment, as a consultant, I believe I have a responsibility to examine the data myself. A common data point is a correlation worth noting, obviously.” She brushed a piece of lint off her jacket, before continuing, “ However, given the medical complexity of those involved, I would prefer to reserve judgment until I have had the opportunity to review the full chart.”

She smiled at Tony and was starting to thank him for his confidence when his last words registered. There had been another reason she’d been called in, one that had not been disclosed. Who had requested her? Why had she not been informed of this? Had she miscalculated and delivered herself into Milbury’s hands?

Her hand shot out and slammed her hand onto the stop button on the elevator panel, feeling it respond with an abrupt jolt as it came to a halt, “if you please, Mr. Stark, I would like to know exactly who requested my presence here.” She took a slow, deep breath, so as not to prematurely activate the emergency transponder cued to her vital signs.

“In the interest of our partnership being both productive and cordial, I think it best that transparency be foundational, don’t you?” Moira waited, her heart slowing obediently, as she watched Tony Stark cautiously.

---

Charles had been aware of Moira the second her driver had pulled into the parking lot. He liked to imagine that it was because Moira had a big brain, and because he knew her so well, he could already practically read her mind before this. In reality, he has begun to realize in the last few hours, that the buzz in his head that he had thought was a headache was actually the awareness of all the people moving around this building, some with mundane tasks at hand, others with strong emotions defying his attempts to not pry into their thoughts. This would be a little like his work in psychiatry, he mused, holding people’s secret thoughts, fears and dreams, sometimes without them even knowing.

//Moira, please quit bullying our host,// He thought now, broadcasting to only her mind and that of Tony Stark. //It would be far more simple if you come upstairs and let me explain.//

---

Tony held up both hands like 'don't shoot' when the elevator was stopped, saying, "Whoa! Ok, Pep does this once a week to rip me a new one...."

Then Charles' voice popped into his head, making him tense a little and blink a lot. At least no memories or fears were being hijacked, like they had when the Avengers first faced off against Wanda. Relaxing again, he hooked a finger in his tie to loosen it. Next time he had a meet and greet, it was going to be comfy concert tees under a blazer and sneakers.

"Yeah, what he said," Tony chimed in, pointing up. "Look. You're welcome to hash stuff out with Banner. I was just trying to ease us into a weird situation. There's things I couldn't tell you in an email or over the phone. Couldn't be sure it was secure on your end. The Professor escaped outta Genosha too. There. Bandaid ripped off. Hope we're good now."

He looked ahead and said, "Friday? Emergency override protocol. Code B.R.B. Don't open on the next floor. We're still going to the med clinics."

"Yes, boss. Prepare for bioscan," a female voice said from overhead.

A laser grid scanned over him, and the elevator began moving upward as he explained, "Had to add that when an investor was actually a hitman, and he punched the Big Red Button. Call me cray cray, but I'm getting this whole vibe like you might need it too. Friday? Wanna add Lady Kinross in on our little secret?"

"Oh of course, Friday said, sounding every bit like a bored secretary, "since you've already given her one of your overrides for the executive lift. And in case you've forgotten, she needs to sign a consent form for a scan."

"...gettin' it from all sides today," he grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes and folding both arms protectively over himself. "Whatever."

---

If Moira’s eyebrow had been able to rise any further, it likely would have launched itself off her scalp at the sound of Charles’s voice inside her head. She held herself very still for a moment and gave Tony a tight smile, “I think that given the potential for harm and the scale of what is likely before us all, perhaps it’s understandable that we are both a little,” she took a breath, “cray cray.”

At which point, perhaps it was jet lag or maybe it was the delay in her estrogen dose, or perhaps it was the absolute batshittery of Charles’s voice in her head. She immediately wondered exactly how much of her brain he had had access to and how long he’d been listening in before the BAWSY BASSA decided to LECTURE HER about BULLYING DA HOST?

Just in time for the elevator door to slide open, Moira began shrieking like a fishwife lit on fire, bellowed “CHARLES, YA SCABBY SCROTE! H’ DARE YEEAH. BILE YER BAWS”, Moira looked around, sniffed indignantly, straightened her collar and stepped off the elevator.

“Mr. Stark, I do apologize. Charles usually has much better manners than this. You may rest assured, I will speak to him.”

---

Charles attempted to sit up straighter in bed. It was undignified, the bed only half raised, his strength still compromised enough that it was difficult to adjust his weight on the bed. He tightened his focus, speaking only into her brain. //Moira, I need you to be the adult in the room right now. These young doctors and scientists are certainly doing their best, but we both have PhDs older than they are. And I’m not quite at my best right now.//

He stopped trying to hold himself up, collapsing back onto the pillows.

He included Tony in the next thought, //I believe this new… ability... I have, and the place I was held… It’s related to the subjects of your research, isn’t it?//

---

They made it to the 40th floor at least. Tony half-winced, half-laughed at the shrieking. Someone was in for it, and it wasn't him. Always a bonus in his book.

"It's ok," he told Moira, waving it off as he exited the elevator and began to show her to where Charles was staying in the medical clinic recovery area. "We have...had...a telepath on our team. You'd think I'd be used to it but..."

He scrunched up one eye while smiling and made a so-so hand wavery motion. It conveyed a whole lot of iffyness, even if he imagined that reading his mind was probably like a million machine guns in a dark room, all going off at the same time and never ceasing fire. Every so often, a bomb got dropped.

"Here we are," he said. "Bruce can be found in the med lab. Just ask Friday for directions."

As the door opened to let them in, he paused there, looking at Charles while thinking, //Yeah. Thanks for the tip. When I saw she was a geneticist, I leaped on this since it can benefit everyone. We'd like to know more about Genosha...so we know who, or what, we're up against. If she can look at your DNA, or the DNA of other escapees to find out what happened, maybe it's reversible. If she also has time to help Bruce reverse what happened to him and Steve? She'd be doing us a solid too. Everybody happy.//

"Welp, you two don't need a third wheel while you two are catching up," he told them both with a grin and a wave. "I'll head up to my office. If you need anything, let Friday know and I'll come back down in a jiffy."

---

The door closed silent behind Tony, “Adult in the room, Charles?” Moira’s voice and expression had regained composure, although she was still considering the ethics of ordering a pre colonoscopy bowel evacuation, out of spite. The risks of aggravating and possibly precipitating refeeding syndrome stopped her…..barely.

She sighed and her voice softened as she took in his familiar face, “We are much too old for these shenanigans, Charles Xavier.”

---

“Is your first PhD not older than that cocky young inventor?” Charles asked. “And you’re three steps ahead of them. They seem to believe that this is something that was done to me. We both know that my genome has one of the mutations you have been studying. This…” he gestured vaguely at his head, “has been inside me all along.”

He tried to push himself up in the bed again, attempting to look as healthy as possible. “I am fine Moira. This Dr Essex knew what he was doing, and what use would any of us be if we were dead.”

---

Waving her hand as if dismissing a recalcitrant student from her office, “You may very well be correct, there is a more pressing matter at hand. Moira took a seat next to the bed and said in an even tone, “There is the matter of your apology for spelunking in my brain and the complicating factor of your name calling in front of the aforementioned young inventor.” She desperately wished for a cup of tea.

“Charles, you are well aware that we do not argue in front of,” she thought about saying, “the children”, but was well aware of how angrily she would have responded to someone even thinking about her as a child when she had been that age. She continued, “...in front of others.”

She folded her hands in her lap for a moment and said, “Charles, do please stop trying to get up. No doubt you are wearing one of those ghastly robes that open in the back. If you manage to fall out of the bed, you shall mortify us both.” Moira realized as she said this that she was lying. She would not in fact be mortified by seeing Charles’s naughty bits, however, were that occasion to arise, she did not want it to occur where any number of people could toddle in on them..

---

“It doesn’t work like that, Moira,” Charles gave her an exasperated look. “I have been working very hard to attempt to not overhear things that are not my business. I am only reading your mind as much as I always did.”

He smiled. “I can also choose who hears me. It is quite remarkable, really. Apparently this old dog.can actually learn a new trick or two.”