professortoyou (professortoyou) wrote in avengers_logs, @ 2020-09-05 21:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | -complete, charles xavier, moira kinross |
Who: Charles and Moira
What: Visit the Xavier Estate
When: Earlier this week
They had been traveling in comfortable silence for almost twenty minutes, Moira had spent the time flipping idly through the latest issue of Springer’s Journal of Biochemical Genetics. She’d made notes in the margins of several pages, marking them with small post its. Turning to Charles, she said thoughtfully, “Charles, you know that I have always left the administration of the institute to you.”
She stared out the window, the late summer sun streaming down on the trees which lined the road, “.... and naturally you know that I trust your judgment implicitly.”
“But you think it’s a bad idea,” Charles finished for her, then held his hands up. “You don’t need to be a mind reader to see this particular lecture coming, Moira.”
He looked out the opposite window, practicing crafting shields in his mind to block himself from accidentally hearing her thoughts. “I’m too idealistic. My plans are too big. This is a waste of money. Don’t you think I”ve thought of all of those things?”
Moira kept her hands folded on top of the journal in her lap, thankful that she was no longer the young woman who fidgeted during difficult conversations, She smiled at Charles, seeing not the man who sat next to her, but also the young man he had been. She was glad that he had survived so much with his idealism intact.
“Charles, I think that it’s a wonderful idea.... I certainly felt very enthusiastic when we first talked about it. She trailed off for a moment, “However, we are talking about millions of dollars,” Moira looked at Charles intently, “but currently, there are only a few individuals with these abilities, all of whom are adults.” Her voice was even, her face composed.
It wasn’t for nothing that the Scottish people had a reputation for thriftiness, “Charles, we have both been very fortunate to have the resources to pursue so many of our dreams, but those resources are not limitless.” She sighed, “I don’t question the validity of the concept. However, I must admit that I am questioning whether or not this is the time.”
Charles shook his head. “When is it ever the appropriate time, Moira? This is what I know: there are dozens, if not hundreds, of people on that island, and they’re all going to need the same help that the few that we’ve met so far do.”
“Stark and his people are offering hospitality, but this is not their mission. The genetics of superpowers is clearly not in their expertise, and they don’t have the training organized to get someone ready to face the outside world after something like this, let alone the possibility of joining a combat team like theirs.” Charles sighed, looking over at her. “And they need protection. If the way inhumans are being treated is any indication, we need to start now to have a path toward safety and civil rights for these people. For my people.”
Moira allowed herself precisely eight seconds to indulge herself with an image of the look on Charles’s face if she were to give him a swift kick to the shins, but then banished it and focused once again on the matter at hand. “All of that is true, however, let us try for a moment to be optimistic and believe that there are fewer than a hundred individuals on that island. Of those, how many will escape? I don’t see any large scale rescue as being practical or possible in the near future. Of the small number that manage to escape the island, and make it twelve miles out to sea, how many will forego a free apartment in Manhattan and an expense account for the opportunity to move upstate?
She paused, “Charles, I feel that Mr. Stark was quite clear with me that he saw a possible need for a facility of some kind … something that could happen eventually after the ‘dust settles and they've had time to get used to what they really can do.’ I there is a certain degree of,” She paused, choosing her words carefully, “Confidence in their ability to help people navigate these issues.”
“I think it’s likely you’re correct about what these individuals may need. I also believe that we have the ability to provide the kind of comprehensive care necessary to address the needs of such a diverse population.” Moira had spent too many years managing trusts and grants as part of administering research facilities to not be aware that no matter how idealistic one might be, facilities require funding and funding needed to be justifable.
“Our ability to do that and the ethical humanitarian impact of such a facility are not the question in my mind. However, thus far we have a very small number of people, all of whom have been through a difficult experience and who are quite comfortable where they are in a place which seems quite confident in their ability to handle any mishaps which may arise.”
Moira looked over at Charles, her jaw set stubbornly, “There are many renovations that need to be done on the estate regardless of whether or not it ultimately becomes the have you are dreaming of. I think it’s reasonable and wise for us to begin there. However, I do not believe outfitting it with training facilities, expensive security systems and advanced medical facilities makes sound fiscal sense until we have a better sense of whether or not they will be utilized.” She thought of the thousands of individuals suffering from identifiable genetic syndromes, syndromes which caused great suffering, for which there was still no cure. What was the greater good?
“Obviously, should circumstances change and it becomes clear that those amenities are both wanted and needed, then my feelings would change. For now, it is my opinion, that it would be best to limit our investment to upgrades that are needed regardless of what the future holds for Greymalkin Drive.” She loathed disappointing Charles, but while the two of them had more than enough money to create the facility he was describing, she had no intention of spending money on something that could end up gathering dust, not when it could be put into research.”
“Perhaps we could have the architect, the GC and any subcontractors give us estimates for what it would cost to make the changes under an accelerated schedule should it become necessary, but defer actually beginning those projects until we have a better idea of what the need will be.”
“Don’t be petty, Moira,” Charles said blandly, overhearing her thoughts about kicking him, “You know very well I wouldn’t even feel it.”
He turned to look at her, “A large scale rescue is exactly what we should be planning. Though, I can see why this would be an inconvenient time to do so with Stark’s team lacking in firepower and with a bunch of newly powered who are scared and relatively useless to protect. That includes me at the moment.”
Charles paused, confused. “I have spoken with Stark about the project and that is not at all the impression that I got, Moira. In fact, he asked to visit the estate and offered several helpful recommendations on the direction to go with regard to security. The training I have made alternate inquiries to set up.”
“You require an appropriate lab and medical space for your work, unless you’re planning on returning to Muir Island, so we cannot take that off the list.” Charles smiled at her, “And let’s be honest, I just really want the plane.”
Moira hadn’t decided whether or not she was planning on staying in the United States until that moment, when she heard Charles describe himself as useless. “The word you are looking for is shirty.”
The driver turned onto the long private drive that led to Xavier’s estate, reaching the gate he stopped the car and looked expectantly over his shoulder, “Just a moment,” Moira dug around in her purse, pulling out a giant bottle of hand sanitizer, a mag light, a lipstick, and her wallet before she put her hands on the remote for the gate. Moira had one for years, carried it with her even thousands of miles from the gate that it opened. She refused to examine the reason for this. She gauged the distance between the SUV and the gate. “Oh do back up, the gates open outward.”
As the driver obeyed her, Moira pushed the button, waited a moment and pushed it again. The gates began to move slowly open, and as they did, Moira could feel the place drawing her in.
Charles grinned as he took in the sight of his family home. It had been far too long, but everything looked as if it had been well taken care of, thanks to the team his lawyer had hired when the school had needed to be shuttered. “I called ahead and Edna offered to whip up some lunch after we’ve taken a tour of the grounds,’ he said as the driver pulled to a stop and brought his chair around.
Pulling himself effortlessly into the chair, Charles waited for Moira to join him on the drive. “The main floors may need a few cosmetic changes to make it more appropriate for adults, but I think it’s nearly move-in ready. The big projects are around the back.” He rolled down the path, heading into his mother’s rose garden.
Following Charles, Moira said, “So glad to hear that Edna has remained on. She’s very good at keeping things running smoothly.” She breathed in the heavy scent of heirloom roses and lavender. She still questioned whether or not Charles’s dream for the institute was practical. Her reservations about the expenses, regardless of how much money they had, remained. However, as they moved along the path in the late afternoon sun, Moira was acutely conscious of just how many times Charles had been there for her over the years. How he’d stayed up late to listen to her talk her way through a problem, encouraged her to stretch herself. His idealism, his vision for a world where people could be better, had often reminded her to follow her better angels. Mostly, though she thought about the times where Charles had helped her pick up the pieces of whatever disaster she had made of herself, and with that she realized regardless of anything else, she owed him her loyalty and her support. Holy Mary Mudder O’Gawd Herself ya’ kin give him this.
As they wound their way along the path, Moira looked down at Charles, “ I’ll have no part of you tearing up your mother’s roses to park a great ugly beast of an airplane. Is that clear, Charles?”
“Oh I wouldn’t dare, Moira,” he said, “She would figure out a way to haunt me, you know that.” He stopped at a bush of his mother’s favorite Star of the Nile roses, inhaling the delicate scent, before turning to look out at the expanse of lawn beyond and the enormous red maple he had climbed as a young boy.
“In order to excavate the sub basements without affecting the structural integrity of the house, the recommendation is that we go in from the lawns here, complete construction and reinforcement of the new levels, and once everything is secure, do the interior work to connect to the existing basements. The Blackbird will actually park about 35 meters below our feet, with a retractable hatch right there.” Charles gestured across the lawn to the tree, which began to shake, imperceptibly at first.
“I am thinking we could disguise it as a basketball court, functional of course.” he added, envisioning the additional recreation space. “Sadly, I’ll need to have them clear that….” Charles stopped talking and gaped, as the tree he had been pointing at began to uproot itself from the ground, slowly at first, then ripping away until it floated above the lawn, the intact root system skimming the ground. It took him a second to even realize that he was the one doing it, but as soon as he did, the job became exponentially more taxing. He clenched his hand into a fist, and forced it down slowly, laying the tree as gently as he could manage onto the ground, which was more of a controlled fall than anything.
He looked at Moira, his face still reading shock, and sweat beading on his forehead, at a loss for words for once.
Moira couldn’t help the scream that escaped her lips as the ancient tree was pulled from its roots and began to rise into the air. She clapped her hands over her mouth to prevent either another scream or a firehose of obscenities from escaping. As the sound of the tree hitting the ground began to fade, Moira reached out and steadied herself on the handle of Charles’s chair.
She drew in a steadying breath and told herself that generations of Kinross women had faced much more outlandish things than watching an old friend pull a tree from the ground as easily as one yanked a weed, and that she absolutely would not do anything as ridiculous as succumb to the vapors, “Charles Xavier, What on earth’s name were you thinking? You should have warned me!”
“I should have warned me,” Charles said finally, staring across the grounds. He had had a vague idea he had a bit of telekinesis. He had managed to pick up a pen he dropped yesterday, which had seemed like a useful tool when one was stuck in a wheelchair. On Genosha, he stopped a cup of water from spilling one time, when he was half dying of thirst. But this had not been a power that Sinister had been interested in, preferring to have his goon squad focus primarily on telepathy and mind control. “I’m not certain what just happened.”