The Wail of The Banshee

Moira won’t let me watch her do pregnant yoga.

docmoiramactaggert asked: Kill Me ((You don't have to, but it's there in case you have the muse.))

Sean was all too sure that he was being watched. He could hear the footsteps, near silent though they were. The air felt different, almost menacing. At every few paces, Sean looked backward, watching, though nothing caught his eye. Perhaps it was little more than sheer paranoia. After all, for all the love he felt for Moira, this visit was hardly under the most positive of circumstances.

He supposed that there was a part of himself that was still in denial. Moira couldn’t be dying. Humans couldn’t get the Legacy Virus. It was a well-known fact. Sean had lost more than enough and God would take pity on him…and on Moira. She wasn’t sick. Each and every time he forced these thoughts through his head, he almost came to believe them but always stopped just short of convincing himself. He wasn’t a young man anymore and his idealism had seeped away as wrinkles grew upon his skin. He knew all too well that each visit he paid to his love, his wife, within her quarantine on Muir Isle, could be the last.

Even in her pallor of the plague, Moira was beautiful. Her eyes remained as bright and her features remained as assertive and strong as the day they’d met. Denial seemed almost easy until he saw her hands through her veritable gloves of thick glass and metal. Her veins were swollen from frequent ejections and her fingers drooped feebly.  How Sean wanted to hold those hands, to press them to his lips the way he had so many times over the years…but it was not to be.

Moira’s mental state was satisfactory enough, Sean decided, and his fears were eased. She went on about the security system and what a “damn bloody bitch it is t’ maintain, don’t ye know? Not like anyone actually comes ‘round but ye, Saoirse, and Charley o’ course. I seem t’ remember Terry and Wade came by once or twice as well. I reckon it’s fine enough but still…”

Her humor was decent, of course, but Sean knew that Moira missed the control she once had. It would be hard for someone of her intelligence and caliber not to. Sean smirked as he thought that perhaps there were a few advantages for a simple man such as himself. Moira was not yet used to her forced simplicity but damn if Sean didn’t try. They shared stories near thirty years old, discussed how vivacious little Jubilee was, just like Saoirse was when she was that age, and so on. If Sean could make Moira even a little bit happier, that was more than enough.

When it was time to leave, they were both in as good spirits as fate would allow; so much so, that Sean was more oblivious than usual. He’d meant to ask Moira if he should update the security system seeing as she was unable to…and also, did she get the feeling she was being watched, perhaps? Could someone have been there besides them, perhaps someone with expert powers of camouflage?

But Sean wouldn’t remember until just a few months later.  Life was busy. The children were demanding. Emma was more demanding. It took great effort for him to make time to place a call to Muir Isle when he finally did remember.

By then, it was too late; far, far, too late. Moira had been dead, killed by a bomb set off in the facility by Mystique, within hours of Sean’s departure.

((Okay, so Sean didn’t kill Moira. I couldn’t bring him to… This was my compromise. I’ve used comic canon and tried to stick Saoirse into the story in a way that fit.))

echolocates:

“But Dad,” Saoirse replied jokingly, “I’m being sneaky, and you probably should’ve asked earlier. Maybe next time.” She cracked a smile. Yes, she’s definitely more like her father than her mother. That’s for sure, since she’s easily susceptible to getting into wacky shenanigans. Hopefully it’s just one of those phases. 

Sean reached out to ruffle her hair affectionately, “but of course,” he laughed, “good skill for an X-Man to have, I reckon, specially these days. Hopefully going t’ see concerts without telling yer parents will be the only time ye need t’ use it.”