Fic - "Hestia" (6/7)
Title: Hestia (6/7)
Summary: Azazel and Riptide retire from the Brotherhood, with Magneto’s blessing. This multi-chaptered story chronicles their life together on their houseboat over a period of ten years. We will see a wedding, a birth, the relationship getting into trouble and getting out of it, and more. Angel, Mystique, Magneto and others will make appearances.
Word count: All together, the word count for the seven chapters comes to 16,000. Each chapter is around 3,000 words.
Rating: R
Pairing: Azazel/Riptide
Disclaimer: I don’t own X-men, or Azazel or Riptide, unfortunately.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Hestia - Chapter Six
***
1972
Azazel sat on the deck with Marina at his side. She played dolls with herself, wiggling them and voicing the characters during her game. Azazel had once brought home the largest dollhouse he could find, and Marina loved it.
“Papa, do I have a mother?” Marina asked, fingering the mother doll and the tiny plastic baby.
Azazel wished that Riptide were not currently napping down below. He struggled to remember exactly how he and Riptide had agreed to answer the inevitable questions.
“You have Daddy and me,” he said, tousling her hair. “Are we not enough for you, my sweet?”
“You are,” she said plainly, looking up at him. “But I don’t have a Mommy too?”
“Do you see a Mommy here?” Azazel asked, and then regretted it. Marina might be smart but she didn’t fully understand sarcasm either. He tried again, his voice now softer. “You did have a Mommy who helped bring you into the world, but it is Daddy and I who are raising you. We are your family,” he managed, believing that those phrases was close to the ones he and Riptide had previously agreed on.
“Oh,” Marina answered, and then went back to her game. Azazel watched her play, disturbed by the nervous feelings in his gut.
A few days later, Riptide and Azazel sat in their customary spot on the deck together, once Marina had gone to bed. Riptide held a newspaper in his hands. As with most items on Hestia, the newspaper had been procured during one of Azazel’s nocturnal supply-gathering trips.
“I have not had a night out for a while,” Riptide began. “I was wondering if I could go out sometime.”
Azazel glanced at his husband. Riptide’s head was tilted to the side and a conciliatory tone was in his voice.
“It has been a while,” Azazel acknowledged. “What did you have in mind?”
Riptide shrugged. “Maybe take in some theater, a play. I - I would like to go to one of the big cities and learn a little more about this…this ‘gay rights’ thing too. You see it in the newspapers more and more. Men like us - women like us too - are demanding their rights. Even making their own magazines, their own groups. I would like a day or two just to see what it is about, maybe read one of their magazines, go to one of their organizations, hear what people have to say about it.”
Azazel fought an urge to scoff. This type of thing didn’t interest him much, although at least Azazel no longer did what he had years ago. Decades ago he would tell himself that he wasn’t queer, remind himself that he was attracted to women too and always had been, and that any time he bedded a male it had been an aberration. Then Riptide had happened, and Azazel could no longer completely lie to himself.
It didn’t mean he embraced this identity though, and Azazel truly had no appetite for learning more about “gay rights”. He reminded himself, however, that the fact that it piqued Riptide’s interest was acceptable.
Or was it?
“Is that really what you want?” Azazel asked, his voice low. “Or do you ask to get off Hestia, away from Marina and her questions? Maybe to find a handsome man for the night too, yes?”
Riptide had anticipated this reaction. He gently touched his hand to Azazel’s arm. “Azazel. You know I love you, and only you. I won’t be unfaithful. I meant what I said - I just want a day or two to learn more about this gay rights movement.” He began to move his hands slightly in excitement as he spoke. “It - it is so…unheard of. When I grew up, you could be beaten up for this. Put in jail maybe. Now there are a lot of people standing up for themselves. It’s exciting. And I have to admit that this is part of who I am - I am gay. Queer. Whatever you want to call it, it is what we are.” He paused. “Actually, I think this movement is more exciting than what Magneto is trying to do for mutants.”
Azazel silently took in his husband’s expression and especially his features. Now in his late thirties, Riptide was still has handsome as ever. Azazel could be tempted to make analogies about fine wine, but even those didn’t quite fit as Riptide wasn’t really old enough for that. Perhaps he sported one or two wrinkles and he had gained a slight bit of weight, but truly Riptide was no less beautiful than he was on the day Azazel had met him. Azazel knew that practically any similarly-inclined man would hardly be able to resist pursuing Janos.
“What are you thinking?” Riptide asked lightly.
Azazel decided to tell him. He looked down at his drink. “How handsome you are. How every…’gay’ man would fall in love with you just by looking at you. And how strange-looking and old I am.”
Riptide rose and placed his arms around Azazel, kissing the side of his face. “Maybe you look strange, but you know that I thought you were attractive from the day I first met you. I never forget that day when I first saw you, how badly I wanted you. I was so glad when you made that move to me. I could not believe you wanted me too, how lucky I was. And now I stay here, day after day, year after year, with you and only you because that’s how I want it. There is nowhere else I want to live my life, no one else I want to live my life with. I just want a little diversion now, a couple days away.” He added, sternly, “But no sex with anyone else.”
Azazel didn’t quite know how he could hear Riptide’s words, understand them, and believe them but still feel this strange, disquieting sensation in his belly. He had always known that Riptide, with his conventional appearance, could have existed in normal society had he chosen. Instead Riptide had decided to spend the last eight years here, on a boat with Azazel. They spent each day together. How could something be so mundane and yet so profound? And how could it have been this way for so long yet Azazel still believed he could lose it at any time?
“I will take you there, then. San Francisco maybe - for a few days? I take you there tomorrow.”
***
Riptide’s trip and return were uneventful. He brought back a few souvenirs for Marina and told her just a little bit about his trip, but he had to be cautious. They still had no idea what to do about Marina’s future and her education, and they had to be careful about not further whetting her appetite for the outside world. Still, it was inevitable. The girl had asked numerous questions, and Riptide had spent the day fielding them. He emphasized the unpleasantness of crowds and noise, he exaggerated the amount of pollution in the air and inside the packed buildings.
Azazel had listened half-heartedly. When Marina finally went to sleep for the night, Azazel didn’t ask Riptide about the trip. He sat on the deck with him, silently holding his hand and trying to think through the alien thoughts that filled him.
He believed that Riptide had kept his word and had been faithful. Yet Azazel couldn’t say why the mere possibility that Riptide could have cheated was creating such inner turmoil. Why was he feeling resentful of Riptide? Strange notions coursed through Azazel’s brain, such as the idea that he had given up fighting against the humans for Riptide’s sake. Or the idea that he had taken on this daunting task of raising Marina, also for Riptide’s sake. Resentment swelled inside his gut, although his brain told him it was illogical.
Azazel did not think over his decision at all. As soon as Riptide had fallen asleep, Azazel teleported away.
Mystique gasped at the apparition in front of her.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, sitting up in bed but keeping the blankets covering her chest.
“It has been too long, Mystique,” Azazel said.
“Yes. It has been a long time. And I have to say I’m not in the mood for a lot of talking right now. So I’ll give you an update in two minutes.” Mystique stated the words bluntly. Her face might appear the same as always, but Azazel could see the distant hardness in her eyes. “I have a new injury on my hip but I’m okay. One of the new recruits has really helped me with my hand-to-hand combat though. Magneto is the same as ever. I have no idea where Angel is. I hear Emma’s new Hellfire Club is finally getting some traction, though they’re spending most of their days living the good life instead of helping us defeat the X-men. No big surprise there.” Mystique paused. “And I still think you are kind of a dick for not letting Angel spend a few days a month with Marina.”
Azazel nodded, tacit acceptance of the insult. Although he knew he deserved much worse for what he was contemplating, what he would do assuming Mystique agreed.
“Marina is well,” Azazel said, giving his own update. He remained standing in front of Mystique’s bed in the semi-dark room, and he gave his update straightforwardly. “So is Janos. Marina is very smart. We bring her lots of books and she goes through them all. Janos and I never had much school but she is genius.”
“Good. With that all out of the way, why are you here? Do you want to fuck me; is that it? Did you have a fight with Riptide or is he okay with this?”
“I do want you,” Azazel said, his voice husky. He took a step closer to the bed. “You are still beautiful to me. If there is room for me next to you in that bed, I would like to get in.”
Mystique twisted her lips to one side. “So you think I’m some bimbo who you can bed any time you deign to appear here, huh?”
She asked the question to buy some time so that she could decide what to do. So few men had ever told her that she was beautiful in her natural form. She wasn’t a romantic, not anymore, however her body had needs that weren’t being met. She still had the same problems as ever - shapeshifting into a beautiful woman and picking up a man at a bar rarely produced much physical fulfillment for her. In fact, it had been quite some time since Mystique had experienced sex and she did miss it. It was good to bed an old lover; Azazel knew exactly what to do.
“Not at all. I just think that for old time’s sake, it could be enjoyable to us both. And like I said, I always desire you.”
Mystique drew back the covers and welcomed Azazel.
During their coupling and despite her arousal, Mystique’s thoughts strayed a few times to Angel and her pregnancy. Before Angel’s pregnancy, Mystique had wondered if perhaps mutants were sterile - or at least if two mutants could likely not create a baby. Once Angel had revealed her pregnancy, Mystique had done some research. She had been so surprised and happy to see Azazel tonight that she hadn’t thought to mention birth control. He certainly never did, Mystique wryly mused to herself; surely he viewed it as the woman’s problem. Or, then again, perhaps he just wasn’t used to linking sex with reproduction given his usual sexual experiences. Mystique considered saying something, but let it go. They were too far into things and she was fairly sure she had no condoms anywhere in her room anyway. Azazel was so warm, so eager, and his tail was once again doing that wonderful movement on her sweet, neglected spot which caused Mystique to lose touch with rational thought.
And really, what were the odds that she’d get pregnant from this one encounter?
***
Afterwards, Azazel placed one more kiss on Mystique’s mouth and then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He began to collect his clothing from the floor.
“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” she asked, smirking and shaking her head. “You’re such a fool, Azazel. A fool who’s good in bed, but still a fool. Go back to him, and let’s pretend this never happened and wipe it from our memories. If he finds out you were gone, you’d better do some groveling. You’re a fuck-up today but I’ve never seen two people with this kind of epic love.”
Mystique noticed that Azazel was slightly shaking. She squinted to try to see him better. Was he crying? Was that even possible?
“In fact, as much as I like you, we shouldn’t do this again,” Mystique added, her voice softening just a notch. “This should be our finale - for real this time.”
“You are right. Our finale,” Azazel agreed, and his voice was shaky and strained. “Thank you,” he added, quietly.
***
For weeks afterwards, Riptide had a suspicion or two but never voiced them. From the very beginning of their relationship, Azazel had treated him considerately, had always been a romantic when it was just the two of them. Despite that, it did seem odd that following Riptide’s return from San Francisco, Azazel - who had not been thrilled about the trip in the first place - had turned on the charm. He was extra affectionate, extra considerate, kissing and hugging him, even in front of Marina though before both men had previously shied away from too much affection in front of the girl.
Riptide simply encouraged and returned the gestures, liking them very much. It was good to see evidence that Azazel didn’t take him for granted. Perhaps the extra affection was due to Azazel being glad that Riptide had returned, had truly not been interested in either joining this movement or running off with another man. Although an unpleasant suspicion remained, Riptide decided to banish it to the back of his mind; enjoy his long, happy days with his family of Azazel and Marina; and leave it at that.
1973
Magneto was not happy about losing another warrior, although at least this would be a temporary loss. Mystique promised that she would return from Germany as soon as possible, and he didn’t doubt her loyalty. In his estimation, she was the best member of his team.
“Should I ask who the father is?” Magneto asked.
“No,” Mystique answered. Her voice was hard as steel and her face unreadable. “I am going to go to that home for unwed girls, give birth, and never see the baby again. The baby will be purged from my memory - just as its father already has been.”
Mystique felt as resolute as she sounded. She may have been bitter and weary, but she still believed in the Brotherhood’s cause. Motherhood would only distract her from it. You can’t raise a baby as you try to win a war.
Mystique also believed that Riptide (and, to a lesser extent, Azazel) would have been a good father, but she knew that she could not give the baby to them. The temptation to check in on the baby and to make a futile attempt to bring him or her back would be too great. And that was even assuming that Azazel and Riptide would agree to raise the baby in the first place. Furthermore, she did not want the bad decision Azazel made that one evening to cause a rift between the two men. Better - far better - that they never learn of this pregnancy and baby.
She heard about the home for unwed, expectant mothers because of a casual reference made by a former member of the Brotherhood. She liked that it was in Germany; the Brotherhood had never had a base there and, loyal as she was, it would be nice to just get away for a bit. Mystique shapeshifted into the form of a young woman and boarded a plane for Germany. Her odds of ever running into the child again would, she told herself, be low or nonexistent.
Several months later, Mystique was exhausted, dazed, and had suffered more pain than she had ever before endured. Vaguely she heard the doctor and the nun exclaiming a word over and over again in German. Mystique, hearing her baby’s cries in the distance, struggled to make out what the adults were saying. Then it came to her. Demon. The baby looked like a demon! And then Mystique was able to understand more of the German phrases. “We have to get rid of it!”
Mystique, her mouth brutally dry, struggled to form words and then to translate them into German. “Wait,” she croaked. “Wait! Don’t hurt him. I know somewhere he’ll be safe. I can bring him there.” Her pleading voice was barely above a whisper and no one paid her any heed. As the baby was ushered out of the room, his cries became fainter and fainter.
The final chapter - Chapter Seven
Summary: Azazel and Riptide retire from the Brotherhood, with Magneto’s blessing. This multi-chaptered story chronicles their life together on their houseboat over a period of ten years. We will see a wedding, a birth, the relationship getting into trouble and getting out of it, and more. Angel, Mystique, Magneto and others will make appearances.
Word count: All together, the word count for the seven chapters comes to 16,000. Each chapter is around 3,000 words.
Rating: R
Pairing: Azazel/Riptide
Disclaimer: I don’t own X-men, or Azazel or Riptide, unfortunately.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Hestia - Chapter Six
***
1972
Azazel sat on the deck with Marina at his side. She played dolls with herself, wiggling them and voicing the characters during her game. Azazel had once brought home the largest dollhouse he could find, and Marina loved it.
“Papa, do I have a mother?” Marina asked, fingering the mother doll and the tiny plastic baby.
Azazel wished that Riptide were not currently napping down below. He struggled to remember exactly how he and Riptide had agreed to answer the inevitable questions.
“You have Daddy and me,” he said, tousling her hair. “Are we not enough for you, my sweet?”
“You are,” she said plainly, looking up at him. “But I don’t have a Mommy too?”
“Do you see a Mommy here?” Azazel asked, and then regretted it. Marina might be smart but she didn’t fully understand sarcasm either. He tried again, his voice now softer. “You did have a Mommy who helped bring you into the world, but it is Daddy and I who are raising you. We are your family,” he managed, believing that those phrases was close to the ones he and Riptide had previously agreed on.
“Oh,” Marina answered, and then went back to her game. Azazel watched her play, disturbed by the nervous feelings in his gut.
A few days later, Riptide and Azazel sat in their customary spot on the deck together, once Marina had gone to bed. Riptide held a newspaper in his hands. As with most items on Hestia, the newspaper had been procured during one of Azazel’s nocturnal supply-gathering trips.
“I have not had a night out for a while,” Riptide began. “I was wondering if I could go out sometime.”
Azazel glanced at his husband. Riptide’s head was tilted to the side and a conciliatory tone was in his voice.
“It has been a while,” Azazel acknowledged. “What did you have in mind?”
Riptide shrugged. “Maybe take in some theater, a play. I - I would like to go to one of the big cities and learn a little more about this…this ‘gay rights’ thing too. You see it in the newspapers more and more. Men like us - women like us too - are demanding their rights. Even making their own magazines, their own groups. I would like a day or two just to see what it is about, maybe read one of their magazines, go to one of their organizations, hear what people have to say about it.”
Azazel fought an urge to scoff. This type of thing didn’t interest him much, although at least Azazel no longer did what he had years ago. Decades ago he would tell himself that he wasn’t queer, remind himself that he was attracted to women too and always had been, and that any time he bedded a male it had been an aberration. Then Riptide had happened, and Azazel could no longer completely lie to himself.
It didn’t mean he embraced this identity though, and Azazel truly had no appetite for learning more about “gay rights”. He reminded himself, however, that the fact that it piqued Riptide’s interest was acceptable.
Or was it?
“Is that really what you want?” Azazel asked, his voice low. “Or do you ask to get off Hestia, away from Marina and her questions? Maybe to find a handsome man for the night too, yes?”
Riptide had anticipated this reaction. He gently touched his hand to Azazel’s arm. “Azazel. You know I love you, and only you. I won’t be unfaithful. I meant what I said - I just want a day or two to learn more about this gay rights movement.” He began to move his hands slightly in excitement as he spoke. “It - it is so…unheard of. When I grew up, you could be beaten up for this. Put in jail maybe. Now there are a lot of people standing up for themselves. It’s exciting. And I have to admit that this is part of who I am - I am gay. Queer. Whatever you want to call it, it is what we are.” He paused. “Actually, I think this movement is more exciting than what Magneto is trying to do for mutants.”
Azazel silently took in his husband’s expression and especially his features. Now in his late thirties, Riptide was still has handsome as ever. Azazel could be tempted to make analogies about fine wine, but even those didn’t quite fit as Riptide wasn’t really old enough for that. Perhaps he sported one or two wrinkles and he had gained a slight bit of weight, but truly Riptide was no less beautiful than he was on the day Azazel had met him. Azazel knew that practically any similarly-inclined man would hardly be able to resist pursuing Janos.
“What are you thinking?” Riptide asked lightly.
Azazel decided to tell him. He looked down at his drink. “How handsome you are. How every…’gay’ man would fall in love with you just by looking at you. And how strange-looking and old I am.”
Riptide rose and placed his arms around Azazel, kissing the side of his face. “Maybe you look strange, but you know that I thought you were attractive from the day I first met you. I never forget that day when I first saw you, how badly I wanted you. I was so glad when you made that move to me. I could not believe you wanted me too, how lucky I was. And now I stay here, day after day, year after year, with you and only you because that’s how I want it. There is nowhere else I want to live my life, no one else I want to live my life with. I just want a little diversion now, a couple days away.” He added, sternly, “But no sex with anyone else.”
Azazel didn’t quite know how he could hear Riptide’s words, understand them, and believe them but still feel this strange, disquieting sensation in his belly. He had always known that Riptide, with his conventional appearance, could have existed in normal society had he chosen. Instead Riptide had decided to spend the last eight years here, on a boat with Azazel. They spent each day together. How could something be so mundane and yet so profound? And how could it have been this way for so long yet Azazel still believed he could lose it at any time?
“I will take you there, then. San Francisco maybe - for a few days? I take you there tomorrow.”
***
Riptide’s trip and return were uneventful. He brought back a few souvenirs for Marina and told her just a little bit about his trip, but he had to be cautious. They still had no idea what to do about Marina’s future and her education, and they had to be careful about not further whetting her appetite for the outside world. Still, it was inevitable. The girl had asked numerous questions, and Riptide had spent the day fielding them. He emphasized the unpleasantness of crowds and noise, he exaggerated the amount of pollution in the air and inside the packed buildings.
Azazel had listened half-heartedly. When Marina finally went to sleep for the night, Azazel didn’t ask Riptide about the trip. He sat on the deck with him, silently holding his hand and trying to think through the alien thoughts that filled him.
He believed that Riptide had kept his word and had been faithful. Yet Azazel couldn’t say why the mere possibility that Riptide could have cheated was creating such inner turmoil. Why was he feeling resentful of Riptide? Strange notions coursed through Azazel’s brain, such as the idea that he had given up fighting against the humans for Riptide’s sake. Or the idea that he had taken on this daunting task of raising Marina, also for Riptide’s sake. Resentment swelled inside his gut, although his brain told him it was illogical.
Azazel did not think over his decision at all. As soon as Riptide had fallen asleep, Azazel teleported away.
Mystique gasped at the apparition in front of her.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, sitting up in bed but keeping the blankets covering her chest.
“It has been too long, Mystique,” Azazel said.
“Yes. It has been a long time. And I have to say I’m not in the mood for a lot of talking right now. So I’ll give you an update in two minutes.” Mystique stated the words bluntly. Her face might appear the same as always, but Azazel could see the distant hardness in her eyes. “I have a new injury on my hip but I’m okay. One of the new recruits has really helped me with my hand-to-hand combat though. Magneto is the same as ever. I have no idea where Angel is. I hear Emma’s new Hellfire Club is finally getting some traction, though they’re spending most of their days living the good life instead of helping us defeat the X-men. No big surprise there.” Mystique paused. “And I still think you are kind of a dick for not letting Angel spend a few days a month with Marina.”
Azazel nodded, tacit acceptance of the insult. Although he knew he deserved much worse for what he was contemplating, what he would do assuming Mystique agreed.
“Marina is well,” Azazel said, giving his own update. He remained standing in front of Mystique’s bed in the semi-dark room, and he gave his update straightforwardly. “So is Janos. Marina is very smart. We bring her lots of books and she goes through them all. Janos and I never had much school but she is genius.”
“Good. With that all out of the way, why are you here? Do you want to fuck me; is that it? Did you have a fight with Riptide or is he okay with this?”
“I do want you,” Azazel said, his voice husky. He took a step closer to the bed. “You are still beautiful to me. If there is room for me next to you in that bed, I would like to get in.”
Mystique twisted her lips to one side. “So you think I’m some bimbo who you can bed any time you deign to appear here, huh?”
She asked the question to buy some time so that she could decide what to do. So few men had ever told her that she was beautiful in her natural form. She wasn’t a romantic, not anymore, however her body had needs that weren’t being met. She still had the same problems as ever - shapeshifting into a beautiful woman and picking up a man at a bar rarely produced much physical fulfillment for her. In fact, it had been quite some time since Mystique had experienced sex and she did miss it. It was good to bed an old lover; Azazel knew exactly what to do.
“Not at all. I just think that for old time’s sake, it could be enjoyable to us both. And like I said, I always desire you.”
Mystique drew back the covers and welcomed Azazel.
During their coupling and despite her arousal, Mystique’s thoughts strayed a few times to Angel and her pregnancy. Before Angel’s pregnancy, Mystique had wondered if perhaps mutants were sterile - or at least if two mutants could likely not create a baby. Once Angel had revealed her pregnancy, Mystique had done some research. She had been so surprised and happy to see Azazel tonight that she hadn’t thought to mention birth control. He certainly never did, Mystique wryly mused to herself; surely he viewed it as the woman’s problem. Or, then again, perhaps he just wasn’t used to linking sex with reproduction given his usual sexual experiences. Mystique considered saying something, but let it go. They were too far into things and she was fairly sure she had no condoms anywhere in her room anyway. Azazel was so warm, so eager, and his tail was once again doing that wonderful movement on her sweet, neglected spot which caused Mystique to lose touch with rational thought.
And really, what were the odds that she’d get pregnant from this one encounter?
***
Afterwards, Azazel placed one more kiss on Mystique’s mouth and then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He began to collect his clothing from the floor.
“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” she asked, smirking and shaking her head. “You’re such a fool, Azazel. A fool who’s good in bed, but still a fool. Go back to him, and let’s pretend this never happened and wipe it from our memories. If he finds out you were gone, you’d better do some groveling. You’re a fuck-up today but I’ve never seen two people with this kind of epic love.”
Mystique noticed that Azazel was slightly shaking. She squinted to try to see him better. Was he crying? Was that even possible?
“In fact, as much as I like you, we shouldn’t do this again,” Mystique added, her voice softening just a notch. “This should be our finale - for real this time.”
“You are right. Our finale,” Azazel agreed, and his voice was shaky and strained. “Thank you,” he added, quietly.
***
For weeks afterwards, Riptide had a suspicion or two but never voiced them. From the very beginning of their relationship, Azazel had treated him considerately, had always been a romantic when it was just the two of them. Despite that, it did seem odd that following Riptide’s return from San Francisco, Azazel - who had not been thrilled about the trip in the first place - had turned on the charm. He was extra affectionate, extra considerate, kissing and hugging him, even in front of Marina though before both men had previously shied away from too much affection in front of the girl.
Riptide simply encouraged and returned the gestures, liking them very much. It was good to see evidence that Azazel didn’t take him for granted. Perhaps the extra affection was due to Azazel being glad that Riptide had returned, had truly not been interested in either joining this movement or running off with another man. Although an unpleasant suspicion remained, Riptide decided to banish it to the back of his mind; enjoy his long, happy days with his family of Azazel and Marina; and leave it at that.
1973
Magneto was not happy about losing another warrior, although at least this would be a temporary loss. Mystique promised that she would return from Germany as soon as possible, and he didn’t doubt her loyalty. In his estimation, she was the best member of his team.
“Should I ask who the father is?” Magneto asked.
“No,” Mystique answered. Her voice was hard as steel and her face unreadable. “I am going to go to that home for unwed girls, give birth, and never see the baby again. The baby will be purged from my memory - just as its father already has been.”
Mystique felt as resolute as she sounded. She may have been bitter and weary, but she still believed in the Brotherhood’s cause. Motherhood would only distract her from it. You can’t raise a baby as you try to win a war.
Mystique also believed that Riptide (and, to a lesser extent, Azazel) would have been a good father, but she knew that she could not give the baby to them. The temptation to check in on the baby and to make a futile attempt to bring him or her back would be too great. And that was even assuming that Azazel and Riptide would agree to raise the baby in the first place. Furthermore, she did not want the bad decision Azazel made that one evening to cause a rift between the two men. Better - far better - that they never learn of this pregnancy and baby.
She heard about the home for unwed, expectant mothers because of a casual reference made by a former member of the Brotherhood. She liked that it was in Germany; the Brotherhood had never had a base there and, loyal as she was, it would be nice to just get away for a bit. Mystique shapeshifted into the form of a young woman and boarded a plane for Germany. Her odds of ever running into the child again would, she told herself, be low or nonexistent.
Several months later, Mystique was exhausted, dazed, and had suffered more pain than she had ever before endured. Vaguely she heard the doctor and the nun exclaiming a word over and over again in German. Mystique, hearing her baby’s cries in the distance, struggled to make out what the adults were saying. Then it came to her. Demon. The baby looked like a demon! And then Mystique was able to understand more of the German phrases. “We have to get rid of it!”
Mystique, her mouth brutally dry, struggled to form words and then to translate them into German. “Wait,” she croaked. “Wait! Don’t hurt him. I know somewhere he’ll be safe. I can bring him there.” Her pleading voice was barely above a whisper and no one paid her any heed. As the baby was ushered out of the room, his cries became fainter and fainter.
The final chapter - Chapter Seven