Who's the Thief, part 1

[x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com]

Charles receives a very early morning phone call from an old friend with whom he hasn't spoken in years. Yes, that kind of old friend. But unfortunately, it's not the kind of call that Charles might have liked.


Gabrielle Haller was, among other things, a diplomat. She knew how to speak with people, to listen to them and have them listen to her, to get other to do as she "suggested." So why was it so hard for her to make a simple phone call? Sighing, she closed her eyes and dialed the number she'd memorized. If she was lucky, then the time difference between Tel Aviv and Salem Center would be enough so that the person she was calling would still be in bed.

Drifting easily from sleep to wakefulness, Charles Xavier sat up in bed, hand already on his telephone. The specific ring signified that it was a call to his personal line, a number very few people had. As the lights began slowly rising, he cleared his throat and brought the handset to his ear.

"This is Charles Xavier, hello?"

"Boker tov, shluffy," Gabi said softly, finding the old greeting rolling out of her mouth just as easily as it had almost twenty years ago. She blushed, and silently thanked God that Charles couldn't see her. And hopefully hadn't grown so strong that he could read her mind.

Charles was not one given to outbursts of surprise, nor were there many occasions where his unflappable exterior was cracked. At this moment, it was shattered. He grabbed the handset with both hands, as if trying to reassure himself that this was not a dream.

"Gabi?" he asked in a quiet voice, barely believing it. After a second's thought, he bolstered his psychic shielding, keeping his rising emotions from spilling across the psiscape to the other sensitives in the mansion. "How are you?"

"Overworked and underappreciated," she replied. But thankfully in her own office so no one else in the embassy could see the goofy smile on her face. She hadn't spoken with Charles since returning to Israel many years ago, but he still managed to make her heart skip a beat or five. "And you?"

"The school is prospering," he replied, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing and heart rate to a reasonable level for a man his age. Glancing down to confirm the secure connection, he smiled to himself. "You came up in conversation the other day between Hank and me. I've missed you."

"It's been too long," she agreed. "I wish I had the time to see your school. You and Erik used to plan it every waking moment of every day. I'd love to see what you've made with it."

The thought caused Charles' mind to race. "You know that you are always welcome. And your work? How are things going in Israel?" He explicitly failed to mention that he always glanced for Gabrielle Haller's name in the foreign service newswires, telling himself it was solely nostalgia and concern for an old friend.

More than a friend, he reminded himself, switching ears with the phone.

"The Center is doing amazing work," she replied proudly. Upon returning to Haifa, she and a colleague had opened an institution for victims of terrorism suffering from psychological disorders, most over PTSD. As a victim of the worst of human brutality herself, she'd almost felt obligated to follow this career path. "I don't know if you've heard, though, but I'm with the embassy to Great Britain now. It's a change, but Rabin wanted me, and the Center is in excellent hands."

"I had heard, congratulations, Ambassador." Charles felt the pang of regret for opting not to send a congratulatory note when he'd heard. "Rabin could not have chosen better. And of course I'm overjoyed to hear about the Center. Moira has been talking for months about a joint project with Muir."

Gabi boggled. Moira MacTaggart was working at Charles's school? The sheer amount of brain power there was astounding. "You remember Daniel Shomron, don't you? He's in charge of the Center now. I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to work with her."

Charles could not suppress the instinctive twinge of jealousy. "Daniel Shomron, of course. He's quite brilliant in his field." He took a quick glance at his clock. "I'm sorry if I'm a little addled, Gabi. It's three in the morning here, I do apologize."

"I'm sorry, Charles. I would have waited, but . . . we need your help," she said, her whole demeanor obviously changing. How could she ask a request from Charles of all people just out of the clear blue. "We're in dire straits here."

Chuckling slightly, Charles braced himself against the headboard of his bed, swinging out into his wheelchair and turning on the news channels. "I am listening, Gabi. What is going on and how can I help?"

"You've no doubt heard that Sharon is implementing the brilliant plan of evacuating settlers from the Gaza Strip, yes?" Gabi sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Well, unbeknownst to him, the Haredim breed mutants." The problem was obvious.

This was indeed a surprise to Charles, and he immediately keyed in the alert command to summon the X-Men on duty to the Situation Room. "I assume there has been some situation, then? It has not yet hit the international news, so I'll need to know what information you have, Gabi. I can have a team scrambled within the hour."

"We've managed to keep it under wraps. The world hates us enough as it is, Charles. The last thing Sharon wants is for us to appear that we can't control our own citizens." It was apparent that she actually agreed with the Prime Minister on some things. "There are twelve of them. They've managed to secure a barracks in Gush Katif and have taken a number of soldiers hostage." She shivered. "To have been able to do that, they must be strong. We don't have the forces to take them out. The few mutants we have on board have came back almost broken."

Typing a few commands into his laptop, Charles shifted the telephone again. "I'm going to send you a link through the Center's email, coded for you to send your information directly to our secure systems. I'm going to transfer you to our Situation Room, it will be better to explain everything there." He paused before sending a more specific alert to his team leaders. "I wish this reunion were under less pressing circumstances, Gabi."

"Thank you, Charles. My gratitude knows no end." Hanging up the phone, Gabi paused before picking it up again to dial the officers in charge of the operation. It was hard to push thoughts of her former love out of her mind, but she had a job to do. If Charles had taught her anything, it was that not even love should be allowed to distract someone from their mission.

[Boker tov is Hebrew for "good morning," and shluffy is a Yiddishism for "sleepyhead."]