A Little Bit of Rain

Posted on Thu Aug 13th, 2026 @ 1:16pm by Lucas Mercer & Maeve MacKenna

5,989 words; about a 30 minute read

Mission: Episode 8: Shadows Over Avalon
Location: Xavier's - The Woods
Timeline: March 25, 1992

A light rain filtered through the budding branches overhead, pattering against Lucas's jacket as he followed one of the winding trails that disappeared into the woods surrounding Xavier's. It wasn't a heavy rain, just enough to leave the earth damp beneath his shoes and remind him that New York and California were two very different places. He'd never thought rain could feel this cold.

He didn't really have anywhere in mind. He was just exploring, getting a feel for the school beyond the mansion itself. Every path seemed to lead somewhere different, and after spending the past few days meeting people and trying to remember names, the quiet was nice.

Lucas missed his family. That much was unavoidable. He wondered how they were doing back home, if his little brother was getting into trouble or if his sister had already claimed something from his room as her own. They'd be missing him, were some of the few who hadn't looked at him different finding out he was a mutant. He hoped they were okay but he couldn't do much more than call them from here.

His thoughts drifted forward instead and over the last few days.

Jean Grey-Summers hadn't recruited him just to hide him away from the world. She'd asked him to become an X-Man. At the time, saying yes had felt easy. It still did.

Lucas wasn't the kind of guy who could outthink a problem. Never had been. But helping people? Standing up for someone who couldn't stand up for themselves? That part made sense. If he could do that, then maybe he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Pulling his jacket a little tighter against the drizzle, Lucas continued down the trail, curious to see what he'd find around the next bend. He hadn't expected to find her out here though, in the wet and the cold.

Maeve had been coming to the clearing for years.

She had found it not long after arriving at Xavier’s, back when the mansion still felt too large, too crowded and far too full of people determined to ask how she was feeling. Whenever the walls pressed too close, or her thoughts grew louder than she could bear, she came here.

It had changed with her.

Paths had formed where her boots repeatedly crossed the grass. Moss spread over stones she knew well enough to recognise by touch. The broad rock near the centre had become her usual seat, smoothed by weather and countless afternoons spent with her palm against it.

The clearing was as close to home as anything in America had ever felt.

Rain whispered through the budding branches now, gathering in Maeve’s auburn hair and darkening the shoulders of her coat. She sat against the familiar rock with one knee drawn up, her fingers resting in the damp soil beside her.

Since Club Blood, she had been coming here more often.

The earth helped. It gave her something solid beneath memories that refused to stay buried. She could sink her senses past the rain and leaf mould, through tangled roots and into the old rock beneath the woods. Nothing lied down there. Nothing smiled before showing its teeth.

Across the clearing stood the great stone stag.

It was nearly life-sized, built from heavy pieces of rock coaxed together and shaped over months. Its chest rose broad and proud above the wet grass, antlers branching towards the trees. Rainwater traced the lines of its back and gathered beneath its lowered muzzle. Time had softened some of the edges and moss had begun creeping along one flank, but it remained the clearing’s silent guardian.

Maeve had made the stag before Desmond.

The smaller deer beside it belonged to both of them.

They had never quite finished it. One side remained smoother than the other, the legs still lacking some of the careful detail they had argued over. Maeve could remember Desmond crouched beside her, sleeves pushed back, insisting one leg looked wrong while she told him he knew nothing about deer. She remembered his laughter when the stone shifted unexpectedly beneath his hand. The warmth of his shoulder against hers. The way their work had slowed because neither of them had been in any hurry to leave.

Two weeks was nowhere near long enough for those memories to stop hurting.

Maeve still loved him. That was the ugliest part of it. Anger would have been easier. Anger knew where to go.

Love remained behind, sitting in the clearing beside an unfinished deer.

Her fingers curled slightly into the wet earth.

The first footfall reached her through the ground before she heard anything above it.

Maeve went still and let the vibrations come closer. Human. Unhurried. Too heavy to be one of the younger children, with none of Drew’s restless speed or the familiar rhythm of someone she knew well.

She recognised Lucas only when he reached the bend leading into the clearing.

Maeve lifted her hand from the soil but made no move to leave. By the time he appeared between the trees, rain had gathered along her lashes and loose strands of hair clung to her cheek.

She watched him take in the clearing, then the enormous stag standing among the trees.

“You’re a fair distance from California sunshine, Quarterback.”

Maeve glanced towards the unfinished deer beside the stag, her expression briefly softening before she looked back at Lucas.

“You lost, or are you wanderin’ about in the rain on purpose?”

"Needed to get out of the mansion," Lucas said with a flash of teeth in a quick smile. "Don't like being cooped up for long." He winced, picking up on some kind of mood. it seemed wrong somehow to speak loudly in this place, so he quickly grew subdued.

Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the woods. Maybe it was the way Maeve sat in the dirt looking so solemn.

His eyes turned towards the stag and the deer. Maybe it was all of this and more.

Lucas took some soft steps backward to bring everything into more perspective, standing next to the rock Maeve sat against so he could get a good look. He studied them for a silent minute, the only noise the sound of water dripping through the trees and onto the loamy ground, or the softer sound of it hitting their jackets. The stag and deer were unexpected, sure, but there was something else about the air

"Am I interrupting something?" Lucas spoke up suddenly, speaking softer than normal, tearing his eyes away from the stone sculptures to look down at Maeve. He hunched his shoulders in on himself a bit, tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to be a little smaller. "I dunno, this place feels kind of... important? Personal?"

Maeve followed his gaze towards the stag and the smaller deer beside it. For a moment, she considered giving him the easy answer.

Instead, she nodded.

“It is.”

Her fingers pressed into the damp earth, feeling rain sink through the soil beneath them.

“But you’re not interruptin’ anything.” She glanced up at him. “Nothing I can’t do tomorrow. Or the day after that.”

Maeve shifted along the broad rock, leaving space beside her without making a ceremony of the invitation.

“I come out here when the mansion starts feelin’ like I’ve wandered into somebody else’s life.” Her gaze drifted through the dripping branches. “All those rooms, all those people knowin’ where they’re meant to be.”

The rain caught in her lashes. She blinked it away.

“Out here’s different. Wet grass, cold rain, everythin’ green enough to hurt your eyes.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Nearest New York gets to feelin’ like home. Apart from the lack of sea tryin’ to knock you off a cliff.”

She looked back towards the sculptures. Her expression softened around the unfinished deer, though she did not explain it.

“The stag’s mine. The smaller one...” Maeve paused. “I made that with someone.”

That was as far as she went.

Her eyes returned to Lucas.

“Doesn’t mean the place only belongs to me, though.” She nodded towards the space beside her. “A quiet place can manage two people. Long as neither of them ruins it by talkin’ absolute shite.”

"Yes ma'am, message received," he said with a little smile, though he didn't raise his voice much still. "Watch my mouth, got it."

"I know what you mean about how green things are. Like, almost painful for sure. Nothing like where I'm from." He was thinking of the browns and reds and golds of the rock and soil, the white of the buildings, the blue of the ocean.

He saw the kind of half-finished state of the deer, but didn't comment on that specifically. That was probably not smart, he would let Meave talk about her someone if she wanted to. She'd used such a simple phrase and Lucask suspected how loaded it had actually been. Instead, home seemed like a safer topic, "You came here too, to learn and control your powers? How long since you left home?"

Maeve gave him a sideways look.

“I didn’t mean mind your language. You’d not last five minutes around me if I cared about that.” A faint smile tugged at her mouth. “Just meant don’t ruin the quiet by talkin’ for the sake of hearin’ yourself.”

She looked out through the rain-dark trees, trying to picture the place he had come from and finding only bits stolen from films and postcards.

“What’s Santa Monica actually like?” she asked. “Not the beaches and sunshine version Americans sell everyone. Your version.”

At his question, Maeve’s fingers pressed a little deeper into the wet soil.

“I didn’t exactly come here to learn control,” she said. “Not at first.”

Her eyes dropped to the ground between her boots.

“I left home when I was fourteen. Ran, really. Didn’t tell anyone where I was goin’, mostly because I didn’t know myself.” She rubbed damp earth from her thumb. “Ended up across in England. Slept rough for a while, got shoved into foster places, ran from those too. Did that for near two years.”

Maeve’s mouth tightened, though her voice stayed even.

“Then I met a man called Artur. Said he could get me to America. Better life, fresh start, all that.” She gave a humourless little breath. “Turned out he had a different idea of what my life was for.”

She did not linger there.

“I got away. After that, I sort of... stumbled into Xavier’s.” Maeve glanced up at Lucas. “So no grand plan. No destiny. Just kept movin’ till I landed somewhere that didn’t throw me back out.”

Her gaze drifted towards the stag and the smaller deer beside it.

“Been gone about four years now.”

There came a faint hint of red on Lucas' cheeks as Maeve spoke. Was that maybe towards the bit about language? No curses had passed his lips since they'd met. But he heeded her rule about not talking without reason. He listened first.

She'd had it rough, but Lucas didn't hear her complain. No, what she shared was her experience, Meave wasn't apologizing, not seeking sympathy from him, or even understanding. Not that he could. Their lives were so very, very different, not just by where they'd grown up. And he could guess about the parts she didn't give voice to.

While he might not understand what it would be like to go through all that, he could understand her better.

She was strong and didn't need to make excuses for anything.

Lucas took a breath and began to share, it wasn't a contest or anything like that. "It's..." He searched for the words and laughed softly. "I never really had to think about it before. Until the last couple of days."

"You wake up and the air smells like salt. Everything's... brighter, I guess. Even when it's cloudy, the sun burns through by lunch. After school we'd throw our boards in the back of someone's truck, head down to the beach, and stay until the streetlights came on. Sand gets everywhere. Your shoes, your car, your bed somehow." He smiled to himself. "You stop noticing after a while."

"The ocean's always there. Doesn't matter if you're having the best day of your life or the worst, you can walk a few blocks, sit on the sand, and just... listen. The waves drown everything else out."

His expression grew more thoughtful. "It's loud, too. Skateboards rattling down the sidewalks. Seagulls stealing somebody's fries. Street musicians on the Promenade. Traffic on Pacific Coast Highway. Tourists everywhere," he grinned, "you can always tell the out of towners."

The smile lingered, but it wasn't quite as carefree now. "It's not perfect. You see people sleeping in the parks because they got nowhere else to go. Lots of 'em. You hear about gangs across town, places you aren't supposed to go to after dark. Last month all anybody could talk about was the Rodney King trial and what was gonna happen when the verdict comes back. There's bad stuff brewin' just beneath the surface." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "But... I don't know. No matter how weird life got, I could always go watch the sun sink into the Pacific and somehow it'd make sense again."

Maeve listened without interrupting, her expression changing by degrees as Santa Monica took shape in his words. Not the bright postcard version she had expected, but something lived in. Salt in the air. Sand turning up where it had no business being. Noise everywhere, with the ocean waiting beneath it all.

By the time he finished, some of the distance had gone out of her face.

“That sounds mostly lovely,” she said. “Annoyin’ seagulls and sand in the bed aside.”

She shifted against the rock, drawing her coat tighter as another thread of cold rain slipped through the branches and found the back of her neck.

“I can see why you miss it.”

Maeve looked through the trees as though the Atlantic might somehow be hiding beyond them. Achill had beaches too, though nobody sensible would have confused them with California.

“Ours weren’t quite like that. You’d go down to the strand and the wind would near take the ears off you. Water cold enough to make your bones regret bein’ born.” A smile crept across her mouth. “You didn’t throw a board in the back of a truck. You stood at the edge wonderin’ whether goin’ in was bravery or stupidity.”

Her fingers brushed idly over the wet stone beside her.

“But the sea was always there too.”

That part she understood.

“Could hear it from nearly anywhere if the weather was right. And when the sun went down over it...” Maeve paused, searching for something that did not sound borrowed from one of Lucas’s own memories. “Everything went gold for a bit. Even the cliffs. Even all the miserable grey rock.”

Her smile warmed.

“Course, your California sun would probably roast me alive. Ten minutes out there and I’d be the colour of a boiled lobster.” She glanced towards him. “Still. A bit of heat might be worth dyin’ for after this place.”

Rain ticked softly against the stag’s antlers. Maeve followed the water as it ran down the stone, then looked back at Lucas.

“And everywhere’s got somethin’ rotten underneath, doesn’t it?” she said. “Doesn’t mean the good part’s a lie.”

There was no grand wisdom in the words. Only the recognition of someone who had learned that home could hurt and still be home.

“Your version sounds better than the films, anyway.” Her mouth tilted. “They never mention homeless people or trials or gangs. Just blond girls in bikinis and lads carryin’ surfboards who apparently never have to go to school.”

Maeve nudged the toe of her boot lightly against his shoe.

“You’ll have to show me it someday, Quarterback. The real one.” Her eyes flicked towards him, brighter now. “Though you’re responsible for keepin’ me out of the sun. I’m not crossin’ an ocean just to burst into flames on your beach.”

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean," had been the only interruption from Lucas, soft and distant, about how the water looked as the sun came down and that golden light. He felt a pang of homesickness then, maybe the only one he'd felt so far. It had only been a couple of days for him now.

There had been plenty of girls in bikinis, and boys who skipped school to spend all day at the beach, and bums all over, and tension as the police screwed up over and over. Rotten underneath? It was hard, but yes, he supposed it was. For years he'd been isolated from it, the result of having parents with more money than they knew what to do with rather than any effort on his part. It had only been over the last year Lucas had started to realize what his home was actually like.

If she'd met him at sixteen, he would have probably given her the version of California from the movies.

He smiled back at Maeve and nodded, "That'd be fun. Water warm enough it's like a bath. We could get you a big hat and plenty of sunscreen, don't worry 'bout turning red. You'd make that whole beach-girl thing look good. Sundress, big floppy hat, the whole deal."

He paused.

"Not that you don't look nice already, of course."

Err...He rubbed the back of his neck. Shifted away from that.

"Could do some surfing, ice cream on the Boardwalk, go laze about Hollywood if you like that, see if we can catch a star."

Maeve watched him rub the back of his neck, amusement slowly warming her face.

“That was nearly smooth, Quarterback.” She tucked a rain-darkened strand of hair behind her ear. “Right up till you panicked and started explainin’ that I already look nice.”

She let him suffer for another second before her smile widened.

“I’ll take the compliment.”

The sundress was harder to picture. Maeve looked down at her heavy boots and damp coat, clothes chosen more for surviving weather than being admired in it.

“Haven’t worn a proper dress in years,” she admitted. “You might have some work ahead of you there. The hat, though, aye. One big enough to hide under when your California sun starts tryin’ to murder me.”

Warm seawater sounded unnatural. The Atlantic had always demanded payment in numb feet and chattering teeth.

“Water like a bath,” she repeated, almost suspiciously. “Sea’s meant to punish you a little. Builds character.”

Her eyes brightened despite the rain.

“But I’d try surfin’. Probably fall off every five seconds and blame you for it. Ice cream’s an easy yes.”

Hollywood earned a more doubtful tilt of her mouth.

“I’d go, mind. See whether the whole place is as strange as it looks in films. Gawk at the sign, stare through gates at houses, pretend we’re not tourists.”

Maeve thought about his promise of finding a star.

“Christian Slater,” she decided. “He’s my favourite. Loved him in Heathers.”

A crooked smile appeared.

“He’s got the face of a lad who knows he’s a terrible idea and expects you to follow him anyway.”

Her gaze rested on Lucas for a beat before she looked back towards the stone stag.

“Suppose California produces a few of those.”

Lucas laughed a little, at himself, and the rest. There was a touch of nervousness there, as if he wasn't sure exactly why he laughed, or fumbled. Whatever, he was a happy guy even when he was down in the dumps, and he wasn't in a bad spot now. He just ignored his brain hollering at him or his cheeks warming further, and moved on. He definitely didn't meet Maeve's eyes.

"Yeah, he was real good in that. 'Greetings and salutations!' Thought he was cool in Robin Hood last year too, gotta be one of my favorites now. And that song! You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you..." He wasn't half-bad though he'd never be a Bryan Adams.

"As for punishment, that's what wiping out's for." Lucas crouched into a surfing stance, arms spread for balance. "Sometimes you land on the board, sometimes the board lands on you. And if the surf's up, hitting the water can hurt way more than you'd think. You come up coughing, covered in bruises, then paddle right back out anyway."

He laughed.

"When you finally catch a really good wave, it makes the whole beating worth it."

Maeve watched him drop into the stance, arms spread, and laughed.

“That singin’ was nearly respectable,” she said.

For a second, she could almost picture it.

The Pacific under a sinking sun, blue turned gold at the edges. Warm air instead of cold rain creeping down the back of her coat. Maeve balanced on a board with her knees bent, hair tied up beneath the enormous floppy hat Lucas had decided she needed. The thing would fly off the moment she caught a wave, naturally. Then she would follow it into the water face-first.

Her mouth twitched.

“Aye, I’d be brilliant. Half the day swallowin’ seawater, the other half threatenin’ the board.”

She leaned forward slightly, studying his stance.

“Like that, is it?”

Maeve rose from the rock and planted her boots in the wet grass, one ahead of the other. She spread her arms, copying him with exaggerated concentration. Her balance held easily enough, though standing on solid ground hardly seemed much of a test.

Then a more interesting thought found her.

She glanced down.

The earth beneath her boots stirred.

Wet soil drew inward with a low, gritty scrape, carrying chips of stone and bands of dark clay with it. They pressed together beneath Maeve’s feet, lengthening and narrowing until a crude surfboard lifted from the ground. Its surface smoothed beneath her soles while the front curled upward into a pointed nose, rainwater running through shallow lines in the stone.

Maeve looked at Lucas, trying and failing to hide how pleased she was with herself.

“Suppose I could bring me own.”

She shifted her weight.

The ground beneath the board rose in a rolling swell. Damp earth travelled across the clearing in a slow wave, lifting her with it. Maeve bent her knees, arms spreading again as the stone board tilted beneath her. For two glorious seconds she looked almost convincing.

Then it tipped sharply to one side.

Maeve windmilled her arms and forced the earth beneath it flat before she could be deposited in the mud. The board landed with a heavy slap, splashing both her boots.

She straightened, dignity only slightly dented.

“That was the ground’s fault.”

The grin that followed gave her away.

Maeve stepped from the board and nudged its pointed end with her boot. At once it softened, breaking back into loose earth and scattered stone until little remained but a long scar in the wet grass.

“Still sounds worth tryin’ properly,” she admitted. “The gettin’ battered, maybe less so. But catchin’ the wave...” Her eyes drifted briefly beyond the trees, towards an ocean far too distant to hear. “Aye. I think I’d like that.”

She looked back at Lucas, rain clinging to her lashes.

“You’d have to teach me, though. And no laughin’ from the beach while California beats the life out of me.”

Lucas was staring. Just a couple of days ago, the only mutant powers he'd ever seen were his own, and a little girl with green scales. He was floored, watching the ease with which Maeve wielded her own. His blue eyes were wide and round, and he couldn't stop smiling.

"No way. No way!"

He laughed, rain dripping off his hair as he walked over to where the board had crumbled back into mud, examining what remained. "You didn't just make a board, you made a wave too! That's... that's actually genius."

"And hey, deal." He pointed a finger at her. "If we're ever back in California, I'll teach you. Promise." His smile turned a little lopsided. "No laughing. Well..." He thought about it for a second. "Okay, maybe a little laughing. But only after I make sure you're okay. That's part of learning. And trust me, I'll wipe out a few times too. That's part of it even after learning."

"But, only if you promise not to sink the beach."

Maeve looked down at the churned strip of earth, then back at Lucas. His excitement caught her off guard more than the praise itself. Most people watched her powers with caution first. Lucas looked delighted.

A pleased smile escaped before she could hide it.

“Genius, is it?” She brushed wet hair from her face, making a poor attempt at sounding unimpressed. “I’ll remind you of that next time I do somethin’ clever.”

At his condition, Maeve glanced towards the ruined patch of grass beneath their feet.

“Well, sand counts as earth.”

She let that settle for a beat, eyes bright with amusement.

“But I’ll try not to sink California. Seems rude when you’ve only just invited me.”

Maeve nudged the remaining ridge of clay with her boot. It softened and spread beneath the grass until the scar of her little wave disappeared into the rain-soaked clearing.

She lowered herself onto the rock again, leaving the space beside her open.

“So what brought you here, then?” she asked. “You don’t leave warm water, sunshine and ice cream for Westchester rain without a reason.”

Her tone stayed easy, curiosity without pressure.

“Did Jean find you, or did somethin’ happen back home?”

"Ah." Lucas' smile only dimmed a little bit. Somehow it seemed more sad than before, though he sounded cheerful enough.

"About a year ago is when I found out I'm a mutant, actually. Big game. The biggest, actually. Especially for me being a Junior but QB for that match. We were down four points. Seconds left on the clock, but we're at their 3rd yard line too..."

He could remember that moment so vividly. The chants from the crowd, the excitement in the air so thick you could almost touch it. Mandy cheering louder than anyone. The tension from his teammates. The smell of grass and sweat. How still the air was that night. The way the stadium lights beat down, but somehow seeming so dim to his eyes. Electric lights just never seemed bright enough after that night.

"You can probably guess. Stress. Excitement. I lit up so bright everyone on the field and most of the people in the stands couldn't see for hours. Thankfully no one got hurt. We lost the game, of course." His smile was tight, that game meant so much to him. Stupid, of course, but he smiled still.

No one got hurt physically at least, but Lucas hadn't come out unscathed. He didn't talk about being kicked off the team, having to hide what he was from the Boy Scouts to complete his final year with them, the awkwardness the rest of the school year and the beginning of the next. Getting dumped by Mandy. The fear and confusion from his parents, or how in the end every friend dropped him too.

"Now I'm here though. I was doing okay, not a danger with my powers or anything like that. But being offered a chance to finish out school in a place with people like me was too good a chance to pass up."

Maeve’s smile faded, though not because she thought any less of him.

She could picture it too easily from the way Lucas told it. Floodlights, shouting crowds, everyone watching him because they expected him to do something brilliant. Then, in the space of a few seconds, everything he thought he knew about himself changing in front of half a stadium.

“Jesus,” she murmured. “That’s one hell of a way to find out.”

There was no laughter in it. Maeve settled back against the rock, watching the rain run from the stag’s antlers in thin streams.

“I suppose losin’ the match was probably the least of it after that.”

She glanced across at him, not pushing for whatever he had left unsaid. There was enough in the shape of the story already. A boy who had been quarterback one day and suddenly something else in everyone’s eyes the next. Maeve knew a little about people deciding what you were before you had worked it out yourself.

“Still...” Her expression softened. “I’m glad Jean found you. Or you found this place. However it happened.”

She shifted slightly, making the space beside her on the rock more obvious this time.

“The mansion’s strange when you first get here. Everyone’s got powers, half of them have stories you’d swear were made up, and there’s always somebody runnin’ about like the world’s ending.” A small smile returned. “But it’s good, too. Eventually.”

Maeve looked at him for a moment, curiosity gentler now.

“Do you miss it? Football, I mean.” She nodded towards him. “Not the game you lost. Just... bein’ part of all that.”

"Thanks," Lucas said. The smiles came to him so easily; sad he might be over some things, he was still just a happy guy in the end who saw the bright side of things. "I'm glad you're here too, considering." The alternative for Maeve had sounded rough.

He rolled his shoulders and glanced up at the canopy and rain, still in awe a bit of the weather here. "It was probably in the news and stuff. I'm not surprised she knew to send people 'round to fetch me. And trust me, I am still half expecting to wake up back home and all of this-" he spread his arms wide to reference the whole school "-is just a really crazy dream."

"Do I miss..." The smile fell, but not into a frown. More a distant look, unrealizing he had turned his gaze to the west. "Yeah, of course. But football isn't everything. I thought it was, before that night. Now I know... there's way more important things, right?" Like the team here. The one Jean had told him a little about. That he intended on joining as soon as he got cleared for it.

"What about you? Miss something about your home?"

Maeve followed his gaze west for a moment. She knew what it was to look in a direction and have it mean somewhere impossibly far away.

“Everything,” she admitted.

The answer came quickly enough that she gave a small, embarrassed laugh afterwards, looking down at the wet ground between her boots.

“I miss me sisters most. Amelia and Saoirse. Even when they were drivin’ me mad, which was fairly often.” Her smile stayed for a moment, softer now. “I miss knowin’ they were there. Knowing where everyone was, what they were at. You don’t think much about that when you’ve got it.”

Maeve rubbed her thumb across the damp edge of the rock beside her.

“And the sea. Proper rain. The wind off the Atlantic that’d nearly knock you sideways. People knowing your business before you did.” She glanced towards Lucas, the humour returning faintly. “Didn’t appreciate that one at the time.”

Her eyes wandered back towards the stag.

“Life wasn’t perfect there. Wasn’t even easy, really. Just... less complicated.” Maeve searched for the words, then shrugged because she was not sure there were better ones. “You knew what tomorrow was likely to look like. Knew the roads. Knew the faces. Knew which houses would leave the light on if you were late comin’ home.”

She went quiet for a few seconds, listening to the rain ticking through the leaves.

“Here, I’ve seen things I didn’t even know existed when I was fourteen. Some of them brilliant. Some of them I’d happily never see again.” Her mouth pulled slightly to one side. “Sometimes I miss bein’ the girl who didn’t know any of it was out there.”

Maeve looked back at Lucas then.

“But I’d miss this place too, now. Which is annoyin’.”

A warmer smile found her.

“Suppose that’s what happens. You leave one home, then somewhere else sneaks up on you while you’re not lookin’.”

It had only been a couple of days for him, but Lucas understood so much of what Maeve was saying. He nodded along, eyes round, full of empathy. He missed his brother and sister so much already. Missed the familiar streets, and smells, and sounds. Missed how the air and the sun felt.

"Is that what this is now? Home?"

He asked both for her, and maybe for himself too.

Maeve's eyes wandered across the clearing, over the great stone stag and the smaller unfinished deer beside it. Beyond the trees, somewhere through all that rain and spring green, stood the mansion.

“Think it might be.”

She sounded almost surprised by the answer herself.

“It’s not home like Achill was. Don’t think anywhere ever could be.” Maeve rubbed her palms together against the cold, then tucked them between her knees. “But there’s something about this place.”

She thought about the mansion on an ordinary day. Someone flying overhead because using the stairs was apparently optional. Fire appearing in somebody’s hand during training. Telepaths, shapeshifters, people made of things people were not supposed to be made of. Maeve herself pulling stone through the lawn and barely earning more than a complaint if she left a mess behind.

“You can do something completely impossible here and nobody looks at you like you’ve grown another head. Well...” Her mouth twitched. “Unless you actually have.”

The humour passed quickly, leaving something warmer behind.

“I can tear half the ground open and the first thing anyone’s likely to say is whether I can put it back afterwards. Somebody sprouts wings or lights themselves on fire and that’s just... Tuesday.”

Maeve looked towards Lucas.

“Do that in the middle of New York and people scream. Police come. Somebody decides you’re dangerous before they’ve even asked your name.” Her expression tightened slightly. She had learned enough about that world already. “Here, nobody asks you to stop bein’ what you are so they can feel safer.”

The rain whispered through the clearing again.

“I think that’s what changed for me.”

Her gaze slipped back towards the stag.

“I came here because I had nowhere else to go. Stayed because they let me.” She paused, then gave a small shrug. “Somewhere along the way I stopped thinkin’ about where I’d run next.”

That landed differently once she heard herself say it.

Maeve went quiet for a moment.

Then she smiled at Lucas, small but genuine.

“So aye. Maybe that is what this is now.”

She glanced towards the distant mansion.

“Home.”

A place where he could be himself, no matter how weird he really was. There we parts of himself he hadn't thought about in so long, things he wanted to be, or try, or just get off his chest.

It seemed... both amazing and too simple an idea at the same time. He was used to be so sure of himself. Maybe Lucas could find that again here.

He couldn't help but flash a brilliant smile back in return. "Aw, what the heck, might as well give it a shot!"

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