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He looked peaceful. But small.             Charles was lying in a hospital bed, the crisp white sheets only emphasizing how pale his face was.             Erik sat in a stiff, plastic chair beside Charles’ bed. They were all taking shifts watching the telepath. It had been two days since Charles’s surgery, and with the combination of a swollen spinal cord and intense painkillers, he hadn’t been lucid in three days.             Not that Erik minded.             He didn’t know what to say. No one did. Charles had spoken about not being able to feel his legs, but by the time he had been rushed to the hospital, he was already suffering from shock.             “I can’t feel my legs,” Charles sputtered as he was carted into the E.R., slowly but with urgency. Any jostling from the cart could cause further damage.

“Sir, you’re going into shock and your spinal cord has been damaged. This is normal. We need you to just remain calm,” the EMT recited as if it was second nature.

The telepath had tears streaming down his face, and Erik feared that soon he would look the same.

“Erik, please, please, I can’t feel my legs,” Charles groaned. There was a hysteric trace in his voice that Erik had never heard before.  “Where is Raven?! I need Raven. Erik, please get her! Please, where is she?”

“I’m here, Charles,” Raven said, grabbing his hand. Her voice was raspy from screaming on the beach. “Charles, it’s gonna be okay. They’re gonna take you back and fix you. I’ll be here when you get back. I promise. No more running.”

His face went pale, and his breathing shallowed as the EMT injected him with a clear liquid that looked like liquescent bliss. He was rushed away, which was the last Erik saw of the telepath.

Now Charles was lying in front of him, no better off than he had been on the beach three days ago.             Erik didn’t know what to say when he woke up. The doctor had said that recovery was unlikely. Erik didn’t know how to tell Charles. No one did. Maybe Hank, because he understood the full extent of Charles’s injuries, but Erik was afraid that Hank’s knowledge of the dire situation might only make it worse.             Mysti…Raven had taken it upon herself to go back to Xavier Manor. Maybe it was her way of dealing, or avoiding Erik, or both. Either way, she hadn’t come back to the hospital for 2 days, and her version of silent treatment was working.             The rest of the children were back at the mansion too, with the exception of Hank, who had been translating the doctor for Erik and Raven. He had ordered that the rest of the children start to make the home more accessible—the mansion was ancient with wooden beams and high arches, not made for a wheelchair. And the doctor had made it clear that there likely would be no Charles without a wheelchair.             Erik shifted in his chair, listening to the plastic squeak. Just as he got settled, a nurse came in. Her name tag said “Carla” with a smiley face. She was pretty—probably had kids and was exhausted, but she still managed to smile. She was carrying a cup of coffee, and Erik couldn’t help but notice her hands were red and there was a hint of bruising on her forearm.             “You haven’t left, figured you could use some. I stole it from the nurses’ lounge, so don’t tell.”             “Thank you,” Erik said, grasping the cup as if it were a life line. “Do you have any idea of when he’ll be up?”             “Unfortunately not, dear. These things take time. Sleep is some of the best medicine.” She pressed the nurse call button, then took to Charles’s IV bag, which was near empty. “He goes through this stuff pretty quickly.”             Another nurse walked in. “Needs to be flipped?”             Erik stood up, causing the two nurses to look at him. “Do—ah, do you need help?”             “We’re alright,” Carla said. “He doesn’t weigh much. We have to do this every few hours to prevent bedsores. Before he’s discharged we’ll teach you how.” Erik nodded, sitting back down.             The two women grasped the bedsheet underneath Charles with surprising strength, and slowly turned him onto his side. He looked even tinier on his side. Without warning Carla gasped in a sharp inhale, causing Erik to shoot from his seat again. The other nurse looked at her questioningly.               “I’m alright Maggie, just a little sore. The kids are driving me crazy; they’re in their wrestling phase. Thanks dear.” The other nurse left the room, leaving just Erik and Carla, with a limp Charles who was breathing softly.             “Your husband?” Erik asked, anger lancing his voice. He was too tired to remain kind.             “No, not at all,” Carla reassured, but she didn’t seem certain. She hesitated. “This may be overstepping, but can I ask you a question?”             Erik nodded.             “Is your friend, uh, special?”             Erik froze. There was only one thing she could be referring to, and her insinuation made his skin crawl and his teeth grit. He raised his shirt sleeve slightly, revealing his Auschwitz tattoo. “I don’t see how that matters. I have no idea, but I’ve learned not to discriminate on who someone loves, as clearly you haven’t either,” his eyes flitting to her own bruised arm.             Carla took a step back, her eyebrows raised in shock. “No, no, that’s not what I meant at all! I just mean…when I lifted him, I heard him. In my head. He was in pain. It was nothing like I’ve felt before.”             Erik remained quiet for a moment. “What do you know of it?”             Clara looked at the door, then back at Erik. “My son. He’s also…special. He’s twelve. And his strength is unbelievable. He didn’t mean to hurt me. He was excited about doing well on a  test and grabbed me. We have a friend who is also special. I don’t know, I’m probably just sleep deprived….”             “No,” Erik muttered. “We are. He has a habit of peeking in people’s heads. But not a word.”             “Of course,” Clara said. A long silence filled the air as Carla continued around the room, fiddling with this and that. After the awkward misinterpretation and even worse confession, Erik decided to break the silence.             “Can you give him more pain medicine?” Erik asked. “If you heard him, he might be coming out soon. I don’t want…”                       “Him to be in pain?” Carla finished with a knowing smile, which caused Erik to nod. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t want Charles to wake up for a while, because he didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t even know if he would still be welcome. “Don’t worry, we’re taking good care of him. I’ll be back in a few hours if you need anything. Try to grab some sleep.”             Erik sat down, finishing his coffee. He needed the caffeine. His phone dinged.             Be there in an hour. Bringing clothes for you, Hank, and Charles. –R
 
            Erik looked at Charles, then back at his phone. He had been up for over 45 hours.  Maybe a good nap would help, and Raven would be back in an hour anyways…just close his eyes for a second… 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0             He woke up to Raven throwing a bag of clothes down. Hank was in the room, reviewing the chart stuck to Charles’s bed. He had reverted to his human form, his glasses slipping down his nose. Raven, who had assumed her typical blonde facade, walked over to him holding a fresh shirt, a stick of deodorant, and a cup of burnt coffee from the cafeteria. Erik sat up, not eager to be seen sleeping. The others imagined him with a steely, robotic exterior, no weaknesses, and he would like to keep it that way.             Hank set the chart down, and plopped into one of the two extra chairs Carla had brought, Raven in the other. In a moment of fallen defenses, she placed her head on Hank’s shoulder. Despite her abilities, her eyes remained red and swollen. But above all, they were cold. She hadn’t made eye contact with Erik since she returned, and he couldn’t blame her. Charles’s words were still swirling around in his head.             Moira didn’t do this Erik. You did.
 
            The bullet he had pulled from Charles’s lower back still remained in his pocket—a heap  of crushed metal, coated in blood and sand. Like Charles’s limp body…             He was shaken from his reverie by a piercing pain in his head. Between squinted eyes and gritted teeth, he looked at Hank and Raven, who were apparently experiencing the same thing.             Then he looked at Charles.             Charles’s face was contorted into a pained grimace. His hands rushed up to his head, and it looked like he was attempting to curl up, but his legs remained motionless.             Help help help pain pain sO MANY VOICES MAKE IT STOP
 
            Erik rushed to his side, trying to gently jostle the man awake. He couldn’t get very far before Raven was there also.             “Get your fucking hands off of him!” She snarled. She slapped his hands away, and grabbed both of his shoulders gently. “Charles, wake up! It’s okay, I’m here. Charles?”             Hank, who for a moment looked like a deer in headlights, pressed the nurse call button with incredible urgency.
 
            Charles was contorting more, and the pain in Erik’s head only increased to a shriek. Raven was beginning to panic, and it was clear that she had forgotten the state Charles was in as she began to shake him harder. His IV was roughly dislodged from his arm, and was hanging off the bed.             Carla ran into the room. With surprising strength, she pinned Charles’s top half down with one arm, and grabbed the IV. Raven stepped out of the way as Carla re-inserted the IV, taking good care to add extra tape.             However, it seemed that she wasn’t immune to Charles’s mental attack.             She lurched forward, gripping the edges of the bed.             “Make it stop!” she cried, trying desperately to stand up. “There’s….sedative…” Her hand rose to gesture to a drawer near the IV stand.             Hank rushed over, throwing the drawer open. He was more immune to Charles’s telepathy than the others—being with him during Cerebro sessions had made him rather used to being an accidental target. He still felt it, just not to the extent that the others did. He rustled around the drawer, rapidly reading each syringe until he came across a chemical he was semi familiar with. He quickly removed the needle cap, and plunged the needle into Charles’s numb thigh.             The mental attack ceased, and Carla straightened back up, panting.             But she wasn’t the only one sitting up.             Charles grasped her hand.             “Your son….incredible. I mean simply brute power. I would love to work with him.”             Erik, who was still slightly out of breath, shook his head. Charles, ever the optimist, only wanting to help…             Charles, who was smiling in amazement, slowly felt his face fall.             His legs.             “Wait, where…Raven?”             Raven all but ran towards his bed, squeezing his shoulders painfully tight. “Oh Charles, I’m so glad…” Her voice constricted as she began to tear up.             Charles pushed her away. “Raven, why are we here?” His throat tightened, and he tried to blink away the tears as memories came flooding in.           
The beach. Shaw’s memories suddenly becoming his own as a coin sliced through his head, covered in blood and regret.

Missiles in the air.

Indescribable pain as a bullet ripped through his spine, falling as fiery hot grains of sand hit his face.

Erik.

Charles turned towards Erik, who was looking at the ground with a steely, unflinching gaze. He then turned his glance towards Raven, whose red-rimmed eyes were beginning to brim with tears.             “Charles, they…we got you here as fast as we could. They did everything they could, I swear to you. It may not be permanent, there’s tons of new experimental treatment with stem cells and bone marrow, electric therapy...I’m just so glad you’re okay.”             Charles remained silent, but his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. There were so many things running through his head, and he could feel pity radiating off of everyone in the room. It was unbearable.             But amongst all the feelings circulating the room, the worst was the lack of feeling in his legs. He grasped his thigh. Nothing. He slowly moved his hand up his body, waiting for a tingle of any sort. Nothing. His hand reached his navel, and he held his breath waiting for any sensation.             He didn’t get anything until his hand reached his mid-stomach. And he felt his heart sink, but the rapid beating hadn’t stopped. He could feel blood rushing in his ears, and his vision began to tunnel. He tried steadying his breathing, which did little.             He cleared his throat, and spoke in a surprisingly calm voice. “Nurse, I seem to be experiencing heart palpitations.”                       “You’re gonna be feeling sleepy pretty soon, Charles. It’s just anxiety…this is all a lot to take in, but the sedative should be kicking in any second now. ”             “Thank god,” he murmured, refusing to look anywhere but the ceiling. He shut his eyes as his muscles seemed to relax. “Carla, if you could please show them out?”             “Charl-“             “Raven, please, just let me have this,” Charles said, barely keeping the desperate tinge from his voice. His words were beginning to slur.             “Come on, you won’t be any help to him like this,” Carla said gently. “Let’s let him sleep.”             Erik begrudgingly left his chair, with Raven and Hank following. He threw one last glance at Charles, who was still staring at the ceiling as he nodded off.  Hank had an arm around Raven, who had let tears freely flow now that Charles was out of sight.             They sat down in the lounge, along with expecting fathers, worried children, and weeping families.             Once they were settled, Raven turned her attention to Erik. “This is your fault,” she snapped. “If you hadn’t been so goddamned focused on your revenge, none of his would have happened!”             “You seemed eager enough to join me,” Erik replied sternly. “If he hadn’t gotten hurt, you would have come with me; don’t lie to yourself. We want the same thing. People die fighting for what they believe in, Charles hardly paid the ultimate price.” The words weren’t entirely true. Erik knew that Charles would never be the same, and that he had paid more than any of them for a cause he didn’t even believe in. But he wasn’t wrong about Raven.             “Don’t you dare,” Raven sneered. “Don’t you dare talk about sacrifice. Charles and I have hardly lived this glamorous life you imagine, and just because he isn’t a bitter, unruly sceptic like you doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”             “Well he certainly cares about you. But if you really loved him, you wouldn’t have been so keen to join me. You would abandon him just for a taste of freedom, to be free of his ridiculous principled standards.”             Raven’s face was enraged, and Erik noticed her fist was beginning to shimmer blue. He was so focused on the flash of blue scales that he didn’t notice the metallic magazine stand headed straight for his face. Erik dodged just in time as the stand clattered harshly against the tile.             “Fuck off, Erik. If you’re so concerned about this damned mission then why doN’T YOU JUST LEAVE?!” Raven screamed, ignoring the people that were beginning to stare.             “Raven, please,” Hank begged, trying to bring her down to her seat. “This isn’t the time.”             “Then when is the time?” She asked angrily, whipping her head towards Hank. “This is the only time that Erik might feel bad enough to take a hint and fucking leave! He’s been destroying Charles since day one, and that is the last straw. I won’t let him ruin Charles!”             “Ruin Charles?” Erik scoffed. “Please.”             “He felt everything Shaw felt,” Raven cracked, as vicious tears began to stream down her cheek. “Every second, he was screaming, begging you to stop. That took everything from him. But you had to keep on that damn helmet, pushing him out like you always do! You disgust me. Just. Fucking Leave. ”             “Fine then,” Erik bit back. He stormed out, looking for the nearest exit. He knew that Raven got emotional when it came to Charles, but her words still stung. But even worse, they had some truth to them. Erik had dragged Charles into his rage-fueled murder mission, and now he had paid the price.             He strode through the automatic doors, sitting on the bench outside. The cool metal was soothing, but he could feel it rumble from his rage. A man standing a little further away was smoking. Erik approached him.             “Mind if I have one?” Erik asked. The man fulfilled his request, lighting the cigarette. Erik took a deep inhale, which caused him to spurt out a cough.             “Been a while?” The man asked humorously.             “Longer than you can image,” Erik replied. He had smoked the occasional banned cigarette during his childhood with his friends. Of course, he hadn’t enjoyed it, but Igor and the other boys had made it seem to cool that he was foolish not to try. Back then the smoke burned his eyes, but he felt triumphant and rebellious.             Now the smoke and ash simply reminded him of corpses in the oven, and he felt empty.              Erik gave the man a curt nod of thanks, and sat back down, nursing the cigarette.             He could take Raven’s outbursts and cold stare. He could take Hank avoiding his glance.             The worst part of the encounter had been Charles. Similar to Raven, Charles had the tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. Erik figured that with all the chaos going on in his head, Charles’s couldn’t help but let his emotions spill over onto his exterior. Today seemed to be the exception. He had expected anger, disbelief, grief, rage, panic, tears even. He had expected the telepath to lash out at Charles or to share his pain like Raven.             He hadn’t expected Charles to remain silent and stoic, to completely shut down. That stung more than anything.             Erik took another drag of the cigarette, resisting the urge to cough. He held it in his lungs, allowing the nicotine to absorb into his raging bloodstream.             The road ahead was going to a long, arduous one. But unless Charles asked, he wasn’t going to leave. Raven had gotten one thing right.             No more running.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next two days had been a blur for Charles. After his last psychic outburst, Carla had made sure to keep him very sedated, which to be honest was exactly what he wanted. The few moments he had felt lucid, he was overwhelmed with not only his own feelings of grief, but also those in the hospital.             He could feel it all. Birth, death, limbo, waiting for a surgeon to come back with an answer, indescribable loss, and everything in between.  The medication was making it hard to block out all the voices and emotions, and for once he wished he had Erik’s ridiculous helmet.             He was an elderly man and he could feel his last breath and his whole family was there and the hospital was too white or maybe that was the light and suddenly he was born and everything was blurry but there was crying and he was covered in blood and a doctor was slapping his back trying to get him to breathe but the outside world was harsh and oh god he couldn’t breathe              Charles took a steadying breath, shutting his eyes. He had to start fortifying his mental defenses. The medicine was making it hard to focus his eyes on a single point, let alone control his powers.              Hank and Raven had taken a brief reprieve to the cafeteria for food, and he had no idea where Erik was. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.             Charles didn’t know what he was going to say to Erik. He was furious, hurt, and more than anything disappointed.             For the first time since they had met, Charles was actually afraid of Erik. He knew that Erik had enough rage to fuel armies, but he had been willing to try Charles’s method of serenity. Charles had felt such warmth and beauty within him when he was moving the satellite- memories of his gentle mother celebrating Hanukkah with him, feeding him warm, golden brown challah bread. The memory itself had brought tears to Charles’s eyes. He knew it was a private memory, but hoped it would be enough for him to transform his rage into beauty.             But the Erik on the beach scared Charles more than he would care to admit. Erik had been so willing to turn the missiles to all those innocent soldiers, so willing to shut Charles out, focusing all his rage on the coin slicing through Shaw’s skull. It was terrifying.                     Charles stifled a moan as he tried to shift, reaching for the morphine pump. Despite the pills they fed him constantly, the nurse had also left a morphine pump, the liquid bliss that brought moments of silence. Charles fumbled with the pump, slipping his thumb over the button. He instantly let out a sigh of relief as his eyelids became heavy and his muscles relaxed. He could get used to his.             Carla walked in. “How are we doing Charles?”             “ ‘M good,” he slurred. “Medicine helps.”             Carla chuckled. “Yeah, we get that quite a bit. I’m gonna move your legs now—it’ll help prevent blood clots. Is that alright?”             Charles nodded, barely able to lift his head off of the pillow. He heard rustling of the sheets, but it sounded far off and distant. He opened his eyes.             Carla had one hand on his foot, another on his calf, and was slowly bending his leg at the knee. Charles froze, as the realization fell over him like a bucket of ice water.             He couldn’t feel it. Oh God, he couldn’t feel it.             He already knew this, but seeing someone move his leg, and being unable to feel it was unbearable. His vision began to tunnel as his pulse raced in his ears. This couldn’t be real. He begged himself to relax, but oh God he couldn’t feel it it was moving and there was nothing there and he had to be imagining things maybe he had pushed the pump too many times oh God when would he wake up
 
            “Charles?” Carla called, setting his leg down gently (not that he would be able to tell, goddamnit), and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I can feel you. It’s okay, let’s just calm down.”             Charles squeezed his eyes shut, but the panic was still overwhelming him and the drugs were making it hard to control himself. He couldn’t get his heart to stop racing, but he could see Carla flinching, so he took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. He couldn’t keep projecting like this.             “I’m so sorry,” Charles said, trying not to gasp. His lungs just couldn’t seem to consume the oxygen in the room.             “It’s perfectly alright dear,” Carla responded. She ran a comforting arm down his shoulder. “You certainly have an amazing ability, just from what your friend has told me. I would love for you to help my son, if you ever get the chance.”             Charles nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat as his breathing eventually slowed. At any other time, he would have been enthralled to talk about mutations, but he didn’t have the will in him right now. The pain was overwhelming, and he was holding back tears. It wasn’t the time.             “I’ll be back soon if you need anything,” she said quietly. As quite a role reversal, she seemed to read his mind, and pressed the morphine pump on the way back.             He felt a brief wave of relaxation wash over him, and sunk back into the sheets. 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o             When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. He could faintly hear something beeping in the distance, but his mind was still clouded with the fog of sleep. Someone was whispering.             “Now, when you flip him, make sure to grab part of the sheet closest to his body.”             It didn’t sound like Carla, perhaps another nurse. He couldn’t tell. He closed his eyes. Had pillows always been this comfortable? He really must get more for the house.                       He heard a deep grunt of agreement, too quiet to make out. He felt the sheet being grasped underneath him. He wasn’t lucid enough to help. Maybe he didn’t care to help. For once in his life, Charles couldn’t bother himself to help. The pillows were soft and his head was fuzzy and he was so goddamned tired. Maybe just this once, it was okay.             He felt himself being turned, and couldn’t prevent a groan escaping his lips.             “Now we make sure the catheter isn’t bent or wrapped around his legs.”             Catheter? Unbelievable. Charles felt himself laugh, but he wasn’t sure how much made it out. He had to have a tube up his dick just to use the bathroom. He wasn’t sure whether to interpret the situation as funny or pathetic. Probably pathetic. So goddamned pathetic. Hs legs had been taken from him, and this was the last shred of dignity he had stripped from him.             He resettled himself. He wanted to open his eyes, wanted to thank the nurse that was there, but he couldn’t. His eyelids wouldn’t work. He suddenly felt nauseous. But more than anything, he felt the sweet siren song of sleep calling him back.             “Thank you,” a deep, male voice muttered. Charles heard shuffling, the distinctive sound of scrubs rustling and tennis shoes squeaking on tile.             Someone was still in the room, but Charles couldn’t find the energy to care. He was so comfortable, wrapped in a blanket of serenity. And drugs. Lots of drugs. The nurse must have given him more drugs, because suddenly everything felt very far away, and he felt as if the bed was enveloping him. He was sinking into the mattress. It was nice.             He vaguely felt a hand brush against his own, and was slammed with a myriad of sensation.             Anger. Grief. Regret. Screaming and ash. Metal.
 
            Charles reached out with all the energy he had, a pang of horror stabbing him, before darkness enveloped him.             ERIK!0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0             Charles glanced down at the chair, taking a deep breath. It was rough edges of metal and plastic. It was a disgusting contraption-- one that Charles was not ready to get acquainted with.             This was going to be a lot more difficult than it looked.             “Charles, we’re gonna work on sitting up, and then I’m going to show Hank how to help transfer you to the chair. I’ve already talked to him, and they’re lowering your bed back home so the transition will be easier,” Carla said.             Charles took a deep breath. He was afraid. The fear and embarrassment was a deep pit in his stomach that he wasn’t ready to address. He licked his lips apprehensively.             “Dear, I really don’t…I’m not feeling ready for this,” Charles stumbled. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow? I really don’t feel well.”             “Charles,” Hank protested, “we really need to get you moving. The sooner, the easier it will be.”             He couldn’t tell them—the second that he sat in the chair his fate was sealed. He couldn’t do it. Sitting down would be accepting defeat. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t feel well. His head was swimming from all the drugs, his upper back ached, and he could feel sores developing on his shoulders. The physical pain wasn’t the primary reason, but it was better than the emotional one.             Charles gripped the bed sheets, begging himself to remain calm. It was a stupid chair. He nodded silently. Carla crossed the bed, placing a gentle hand behind his shoulder and one much lower, where he ceased to feel it. She carefully began to sit him up from the bed that was already slightly raised, and Charles let out a whimper. She shifted his upper-half to face the edge of the bed. Then she carefully picked up his useless legs, and draped them over the corner of the bed.             Charles was now sitting up, his legs dangling over the bed. He wanted to hop down, and begged his legs to inch off the mattress as he felt his heart sink. It was just like getting out of bed every morning, except it wasn’t.  He couldn’t just stand up. His head was swimming and his face felt hot, but his hands remained cold. He felt bile rise up in his throat as his blood rushed in his ears. Saliva was pooling in the sides of his mouth, much against his wishes.  Luckily Hank must have read his face, and grabbed a trash can.             Charles promptly threw up.             Carla grabbed him water, while Hank set down the wastebasket. “I’m so sorry,” Charles stuttered. “I’m rather nauseous.”             “It’s alright, Charles,” Carla replied. “Take a few deep breaths and then we’ll continue. You’re doing great. Sitting up is half the battle.”             Charles gulped down the water, trying to wash the bitter taste and shame from his mouth. He was having a hard time remaining upright, but Hank was holding his shoulder. The slender man held a surprising amount of hidden strength.             “Okay, I’m ready,” Charles said, while every nerve in his body screamed otherwise.             Carla steadied his upper half. “Hank, you’re going to wrap one arm around his midsection, the other underneath his legs. Yes, just like that!”             Charles couldn’t help but feel like a helpless babe in Hank’s arms. He pushed a thought towards Hank, hoping his powers would obey him.             I’m sorry. Thank you.             Hank looked at Charles, his eyes widening in understanding, but with something deeper. Empathy perhaps?             “I’ve got you, Prof,” Hank said confidently, lifting the telepath from the mattress he hadn’t left in days, and gently placing him in the rigid chair.             Charles held back a groan. He didn’t want Hank to feel bad—the scientist had been incredibly careful, and it wasn’t his fault Charles felt so much pain. Charles let his head fall back, biting back the nausea that wouldn’t abide.             “That’s excellent!” Carla said, a smile dressing her face. Charles bit back his cynicism, but honestly, how could she be smiling? “Charles, how are you feeling?”             “Tired,” Charles replied. And small. He kept that part to himself.             Carla slowly wheeled him out of the door and down the hallway, while Hank followed carting the IV stand and catheter bag. The squeaking of the wheels against the linoleum was irritating, but Charles was glad to leave his room. The stench of sweat and stale tears was replaced by disinfectant, and while neither smell was comparable to that of the Xavier garden, he definitely had a preference.             “Charles, are you ready to try wheeling on your own? I’ll still be pushing, but you should open up your shoulders a bit.”             Charles rodded, slowly resting his palms on the metallic rod attached to the wheels.             Metallic?
 
            Charles got glimpses of metallic anger, bitter in his mouth, and a phantom hand brushing against his own. Last night, he had thought…             No, he had certainly imagined it. Right…? Charles hadn’t seen Erik since he had first woken up. It was difficult to tell the night from the day, especially when the nurses came in to flip him and feed him drugs every hour.             Charles shook the thought from his head, pushing the wheels slowly. It was much harder than he imagined. After a few meters, his arms began to burn. It wasn’t until the end of the hall that he realized he had sweat beading on his upper lip, his breath stuttering.                       For the first time in a week, Charles realized he was smiling. He looked down the long hallway. He hadn’t moved in four days, and had just made it down a hallway by himself. His arms were shaking and muscle spasms were running down his shoulders, but he had done it. It felt…good.             When Carla helped him turn the chair around at the end of the hall, he saw Raven standing on the opposite side, a tear-filled grin plastered on her face. She ran towards him and smothered him with her arms, burying her face in his heaving chest.             “I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice muffled by his hospital gown.             “Easy now,” Charles chuckled, gently pushing her away.  He was still panting, and his arms were on fire, but he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. He knew it would be short lived. The reality would come rushing back, but for now he would take the happiness he could get.               Carla wheeled Charles back as he bit back a wave of nausea. The exertion had certainly taken a toll on him, and he was eager to lie back down in bed and get some drugs running through his veins.             And soon enough that was exactly what he got. Carla had given him more pills, and he felt a surge of calm wash over him. His head was light and heavy all at once.  Now it wasn’t just his legs that were numb…his head was fuzzy, and his arms and wrists that had once been burning were now joyfully devoid of feeling. He felt Raven press and gentle kiss to his forehead as his eyes slipped shut. 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o             Charles woke up with a spurt.             “Bloody hell,” he groaned. His arms hurt like hell, and his shoulders were another story completely. His head was throbbing beyond belief.             Charles fumbled for the morphine pump, but it was just out of his reach. “Damnit,” he muttered, trying to shift towards the stand. He attempted to move the upper half of his body, wishing he could move his hips more. He felt tears sting his eyes. Why was this so damn hard?!             A large, dark figure left a chair in the corner, walking over to press the button and set the remote in Charles’s hand.             “Erik,” Charles breathed.             And the dam broke.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Erik,” Charles repeated. His eyes tore into Erik’s, which caused Erik to turn his gaze towards the ground. “How are you?” Erik asked, his voice quiet but piercing. It seemed like such a thoughtless question, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Charles scoffed, nearly throwing himself back onto the pillow from where he had been sitting up. “How am I?! Are you fucking kidding me?” Erik remained silent, and Charles’s bitter snickers slowly evaporated. “Why are you here, Erik?” The telepath was refusing to make eye contact and Erik didn’t want to either. Charles looked so unlike himself. His face was lank, pale, and new bags had sprouted under his eyes that now held dull pain instead of bright hope. “Why, Erik?” Charles repeated. “Did it hurt?” Charles finally looked up, being taken off guard. “Are you serious?! You don’t even have that ridiculous helmet on and you’re still thick-skulled. Of course it fucking hurt. I can’t sit up on my own and Raven won’t stop crying and being a telepath in a hospital is like dying a million times and it hurts so. Fucking. Much. The drugs just make me foggy but it’s either my mind or my spine and goddamnit… I shouldn’t have to choose. Do you have any fucking…” “I meant the mind meld,” Erik interrupted quietly. “With Shaw.” “More than you can possibly imagine,” Charles said, his voice abrasive. He remained quiet for a moment before continuing. “So now what?”           Erik raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly in the plastic chair. “Regarding what?” “You,” Charles answered. “You…you haven’t been here.” He tried blinking away the tears that were beginning to prickle his eyes. He hadn’t expected Erik to stay, but not having him present the past few days hurt more than he would care to admit. Charles took a deep breath, blinking a final time. “I assumed you had left to kill of the rest of Shaw’s minions. Or innocent soldiers. I don’t think you know the difference at this point.  So what are you doing here?” “I’ve been here,” Erik said, his voice quiet but defensive. “Bullshit!” Charles exclaimed. “I may have been drugged but I remember Raven and Hank visiting. You were there once.” “I’ve been coming at night,” Erik responded, slightly defensive. “Ask Carla. She’s been teaching me how to flip you, catheter work, different medications. It’s true I’ve been at the mansion during the day. But don’t accuse what you aren’t sure of.” “Why?” Erik froze, wondering what Charles meant. It only took one look at Charles to understand. At the beginning of the conversation Charles had looked betrayed, but now he simply looked curious. And tired. “I...” Erik shifted again, starting at the ground. Charles had never seen the man look so small or uncomfortable. “I was planning on staying….to help. Being a metal bender, I’m wondering if I should have gone into construction. I’ve been making some small changes around the mansion, so that’s it’s easier for you. I want to stay, if you’ll have me.” Charles shook his head, a small but hostile smile gracing his features. “I don’t need your pity, Erik. You have a mission, and I know it’s far from done.” “Charles, that can wait.” “Until when?” Charles asked, exasperated. Erik didn’t miss him pressing the morphine pump for the second time since their conversation had started. Charles took a deep breath and his head hit the pillow as the morphine flooded his system. His eyes were scrunched shut. Erik could feel a tinge of pain radiating from the man. The few seconds the medicine had hit had caused him to lower his mental defenses, certainly not of his own accord. Charles opened his eyes, his cheeks slightly flushed from the influx of opioids. The tips of his ears were also spattered red under his hair, which had grown shaggy and greasy from the hospital. Erik knew that had Charles been feeling normal, he would have been throwing a proper fit over his hair.  Charles looked back at Erik.  “Your mission is all you’ve cared about this entire time. Since we met it’s always been about taking down Shaw. If you really cared about anything else, I wouldn’t be lying here. If you cared, we wouldn’t have been on that beach on the first place. Moira wouldn’t be gone, the government wouldn’t hate us, and I wouldn’t have lost my goddamn legs!” His voice had escalated rapidly.             “I’m sorry.”             “Doesn’t do much good,” Charles snapped. He had never Erik apologize for anything, but this one opportunity hadn’t redeemed him. “You have no idea what I feel.”             “Then show me.”             “What?” Charles was completely taken aback.             “You heard me,” Erik bit back. “Show me. Let me feel it. You damn well know you can do it. So let me see how it feels.”             “What is this?” Charles scoffed. “You want to feel this so you can feel better? To eliminate some of your guilt? That’s a reward, not punishment. Just leave.”             “No,” Erik responded. “Charles, you know I won’t beg. I’ve spent my life begging for mercy, so don’t make me beg to someone who has actually shown me just that. Let me feel it. I want to know…I want to understand. I want to understand what I’ve put you through. And I want to stay and help.”             Charles took a deep breath, feeling the threat of tears beginning to resurface. For the first time this week, he felt deep sorrow and sincerity radiating from Erik.             “Okay,” Charles whispered, after a long deliberation. Before Erik could say anything, Charles began to remove the IV taped to his arm. “I need to be clear-headed so I don’t turn your brain to mush.” He took a gulp of water from the bedside table. Erik had completely sat up, looking as if he was bracing himself. Charles smirked slightly.             “I’m not strong enough to radiate my power yet,” Charles admitted. He motioned for Erik to come over, so Erik moved his chair over to the side of Charles’s bed. Charles sat up, and carefully placed his fingers on Erik’s temple. Erik resisted the urge to shudder; he wasn’t used to such close physical contact, especially somewhere so vulnerable. He felt Charles’s fingers tremble slightly but he pretended not to notice.             Charles took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Erik attempted to do the same but before he could inhale he was hit with a flash of narrative that wasn’t his own.               Hot sand was grating against his skin under his uniform, but it would have to wait.

Suddenly he was no longer Charles; he was Shaw.  The mind was filled with rage, tenacity, and unbelievable strength. Shaw’s mind was like hot barbed wire. It was powerful and burnt and the more he tried to escape the more he became trapped. It was rapidly draining his energy, but he knew he had to hold on.

His hand was reaching out to grasp the side of the plane as he stumbled, trying to remain latched onto Shaw’s mind. Erik needed to hurry or Shaw was going to slip away. He could hear Erik talking to Shaw, but the words were garbled as if being said underwater. The only thing Charles could make out were something about Erik’s mother, and the distinctive articulation of numbers being counted.

In the background, Charles could feel Shaw’s mind struggling against his own, banging against the walls of his awareness relentlessly and with incredible anger. There was something else too…betrayal?

The internal fight ended in an excruciating gleam of a weathered coin.

First came the frontal bone, right where the coin entered. Charles was suddenly seeing from Shaw’s point of view, and a stream of blood rapidly spilled into his left eye. The pain of the bone being split was a rush of gold sparks that caused Charles to let out a scream. He couldn’t tell if it was coming from his own mouth or Shaw’s but he knew he couldn’t hold on oh god…

Next came the frontal lobe. Charles felt the once shrieking Shaw in the background go eerily quiet. Shaw was no longer there.

Charles remained yelling, but the pain was slightly numbed. He was more focused on the terrifying lack of Shaw. His mind was completely quiet, and that scared Charles more than anything.

The pain resumed as the coin continued further into the motor cortex. Charles knew he was still shouting, his voice becoming hoarse, but as soon as the coin sliced through the movement center, Charles wasn’t sure if he had to keep holding Shaw still. He wouldn’t be able to move. The man was completely gone, left only with an empty shell oozing indescribable pain. Charles tried with his little remaining strength to release himself from Shaw’s mind, but he couldn’t. He was too far gone. He was too weak and the agony was too much.

He was screaming between grinding teeth and everything was screaming screaming screaming so loud and the parietal lobe was tearing and suddenly the flaming coin hit the occipital lobe and everything disappeared.

He couldn’t breathe. There…there was nothing there. Shaw was gone. His essence, his feelings, his simple involuntary sensations like breathing and heartrate had vanished.

Charles opened his eyes, only to find himself back in the jet. He let out a final groan, feeling himself sink to his knees. The blood that had been blocking Shaw’s vision suddenly became tears obstructing his own, and everything in his field of vision went dark.

Erik opened his eyes, and it wasn’t a surprise than both he and Charles had tears streaming down their faces. Charles had shared his experience in every corner of Erik’s mind, and the pain had caused adverse tears. He felt it all—the description, the sounds, the smells, the pain. But now he had been thrown back into a reality where Charles was wheezing.  It didn’t take very long for Erik to realize that Charles’s pain wasn’t just from reliving the memory, but from the exertion of projecting. His eyes were squeezed shut and his breathing was labored.             Erik rapidly wiped his eyes. Charles was beginning to let his pain leak through, and he knew the telepath would be terrified if he projected throughout the hospital again. Erik looked around rapidly, wondering what to do. He spotted the IV limply hanging from the machine. Erik knew he should really call the nurse, but that might take too long. Erik raised his hand slightly, feeling for the metal running through Charles’s veins. Blood had a distinct metallic current that Erik could identify anywhere, even rushing through someone’s body.             “Erik, call…” Charles’s voice was weak, and he could barely lift himself from the pillow.             “No time,” Erik said gruffly. “Charles, give me your arm.”             Charles attempted to steady himself, hesitantly giving his arm to Erik. The man’s hands were more callused than he had imagined. Erik’s fingers ran over Charles’s arm which was bruised from the extensive IV work, and the muscles strained from his encounter with the wheelchair.             “Tell me if it hurts,” Erik said with a tenderness Charles had never heard before. “I think I can gauge where the vein is. It is going to hurt a little, regardless.”             Charles watched as Erik levitated the needle slowly into his arm. He inhaled slightly as the sharp metal slid into his vein, a delicate drop of blood creeping from the entry point. Erik got up and nearly slammed the morphine button, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He gave Charles a moment to recover. He desperately wanted to address what he had just seen, but he knew that Charles needed a moment to collect himself.             The two men sat in silence. Erik wished for a good scotch and a chess board to fill the stillness. He would give anything to distract himself from the frightening images he had just seen…no, felt. As Charles’s breathing began to slow, Erik felt he needed to break the quiet.             “Charles, I am so sorry.”             The telepath remained silent for a moment, but Erik continued.             “I had no idea…We may have our differences, but I never meant to but you through that.”             “I know,” Charles said, his voice barely above a strained whisper. “But you did. And maybe someday I’ll forgive you. But right now, I still have the right to be mad. I hope you understand that.”             Erik stiffly nodded. “Of course,” he responded. Charles had more than the right to be mad—he had every right to be furious, seething, bitter. The metal bender would understand if Charles never spoke to him again, even if it broke him. He hoped it would never come to that, but was prepared if it did.             Charles cleared his throat before he spoke. “I…I’ve never felt someone die before. At my father’s funeral, I remember reaching for his mind, only to find nothing. I had expected that. But to feel someone die one neuron at a time…I could feel each part of his mind shutting down. It was horrifying.”             “I can’t imagine,” Erik said quietly. He had expected the conversation to end there, but Charles continued.             “It started when I was 9,” Charles muttered, running a shaky hand through his greasy hair. “The telepathy, I mean. I heard the housekeeper first. My mother thought I was schizophrenic. But then my emotions started affecting the people around me, so I knew she was wrong. But Mrs. Xavier couldn’t have her perfect son mentally ill so I played along. I saw doctor after doctor, took pill after pill…I just convinced her it was working once I could reel it in. I got lithium shoved down my throat until I was smart enough to hold it under my tongue until I could wash it down the sink.”             Erik wasn’t sure where this monologue was going; however, he was legitimately interested. Charles made plenty of jokes about his telepathy, despite never divulging much actual detail. He remained quiet, allowing Charles to continue.             “It’s difficult for me to explain my power to other people. I know you and Raven ask me to turn it off, but I can’t. Everywhere I go I hear voices, feel emotions, and get glimpses into other people’s thoughts, whether I want to or not. Just to shield myself from others takes energy—all the time, every second. It’s exhausting. It’s more exhausting than you could possibly imagine. And now…I can feel Raven’s sorrow and your anger and Hank’s confusion and it’s difficult enough normally but now I can’t fucking walk! Fuck Raven’s glimpses of hope and Hank telling me about experimental treatments; I just want to sleep.             “I don’t know if I can do this Erik,” Charles mumbled, his voice strained with the hint of unshed tears that were pooling in his eyes. His voice had taken on a scratchy quality. He ran a hand over his face, causing a trail of tears to spill over onto his face. “I’m having a hard enough time dealing with my own emotions with all these drugs, but Raven’s…”             Charles caved, hunching over and hiding his face. His shoulders were shaking and Erik pretended not to hear the quiet sobs coming from the other man’s mouth. Charles was often overdramatic, but this was something else entirely. This was genuine pain.             Erik, in a stroke of spontaneity, sat on the corner of Charles’s bed and wrapped a hesitant arm around him.             The telepath had lost in inordinate amount of weight since being in the hospital. He hadn’t eaten solid food yet. The medicine made him nauseous, so all of his nutrients were being supplied through a port connected to his shoulder.  Erik could practically wrap his arm around Charles’s entire body.                         Charles quickly recovered, or at least pretended to. As he raised his head up, Erik quickly removed his arm, afraid of overstepping boundaries. Despite their conversation, he still wasn’t sure where he and Charles stood. However, he didn’t remove himself from sitting on the edge of the bed.               “I’ve lived my whole life with everyone thinking I was crazy,” Charles said, finally making eye contact with Erik. “Now I’m afraid it might be true.”             “That’s hardly true, Charles,” Erik responded. “They’re afraid of your power. Use it to your advantage. You are much stronger than they think.”             Charles smiled, for the first time in what felt like years. “Thank you, my friend.”             The simple endearment had slipped from Charles’s lips, and while he was shocked, Erik had looked even more stunned. Charles sheepishly returned his gaze to his lap. He was still furious with Erik, but right now wasn’t the time. He was too tired to release any more anger. Right now they could sit in silence—two old friends on the brink of a precipice, unsure of whether to retreat or jump.             For now, this might be enough.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Erik walked through the hospital doors, weary at how familiar they had become. In one hand he held a small duffel filled with various items and clothing for Charles and Raven, and in the other he held a large thermos full of coffee he had brewed at the mansion. He would be damned if he had another cup of the bitter, burnt coffee the hospital tortured its visitors with.             He had spent the past three days at the mansion, working on renovations. While the house was beautiful, it had not been built with the intention of a paralyzed inhabitant. Erik enjoyed the work—things had been tense between he and Charles after the mind-meld, and working with his hands gave Erik an outlet for the pent-up words his mouth couldn’t seem to find. Some of the construction had been done with his powers such as simple bending, but he saved the melding and lifting for his physical body. He needed the distraction; the ache in his muscles wasn’t close to being penance, but was the only thing he could cling to. A body he still had control over.             He made his way to the front desk, where the hospital receptionist recognized him. “Good morning, Mr. Lehnsherr!”             Erik was too tired to respond with her enthusiasm, but he cracked a stiff smile and nodded in acknowledgement. “Mary.”             “Here to see Charles I assume?” After receiving a curt nod, the receptionist peeled off a paper “visitor” tag from her large stack. She handed it to him with a smile. “His sister is with him now, so you are welcome to head on up. I’ll go ahead and sign you in.”             Erik placed the sticker on his shirt, feeling childish. He gave a halfhearted wave to Mary, and continued down the hallway until he was at the elevator. He wrinkled his nose, once again being overwhelmed by the scent of disinfectant and stagnant air that seemed to seep into the hospital walls. No amount of disinfectant could mask the stench of death.             Hospitals had always put Erik on edge for two reasons. First, there was a deep-seated resentment that this technology hadn’t been available to save thousands of his brethren when it really mattered. Humans were burned in grotesque piles in the streets of Germany rather than the neat little furnaces each morgue had. That dignity was missed, even by the dead. This hurried effort to save lives every day seemed ironic when other countries had failed to even step in when genocide was little more than a game of exterminating a nagging pest. Hospitals seemed to hold an urgency that every second mattered, when Erik had been up for years wondering when his time would finally come. It only took a few seconds for a life to end, yet his had been elongated for far too many.             The second reason Erik hated hospitals was more intimate, yet something he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he had tried. Yes, medicine had advanced. But surgical rooms still held saws and clamps and scalpels that seemed to throw Erik back into Herr Doktor’s laboratory. Tools that had been forged to help and heal had only hurt him. They had created incisions when their true purpose was to close them; they were supposed to stop the bleeding, not cause it.             Erik let out a repressed shudder, realizing that stepping into an entire box of metal when angry would neither be good for himself nor the hospital. He pressed a button to the 8th floor. He took a deep breath, feeling his exhales align with the metal pulleys hidden behind the elevator’s doors.             When he reached his stop, Erik stepped off the elevator, steeling his shoulders. The past two weeks had been…difficult, so say the least. Charles had been going through mood swings, but not in the way any of them had expected. There was content Charles, falsely smiling with his ever-infuriating optimism. There was silent Charles, refusing to speak under false pretenses that he was too tired. Perhaps that was true. But sorrow was much more exhausting than any physical therapy could be. Out of all the emotions, rage had not yet reared its ugly head. Erik knew what unresolved rage could do to the psyche. Rage was more dangerous than despair. Despair could be solved, and perhaps even buried. But rage was acidic.             Rage would burn and burn like a sun, like a red giant that would simply explode and disintegrate everything in its path.             But Charles had shown Erik that even after such an explosion, a pure star could be found, a remnant of hatred leaving a beautiful, untouchable power. That was if it burned correctly. And Erik was afraid that Charles’s rage would simply consume him whole.             Apparently today was something new.             As he approached the nurses’ station, Carla immediately sought him out. Erik wouldn’t lie—he had become quite fond of Carla over the past few weeks. She had the perfect balance of motherly yet professional, seeming to offer Charles (as well as Raven and Erik) gentle support when needed with superior medical attention. Despite long shifts and grueling battles with the frail human body, Carla remained buoyant. That took special skill, one that Erik had secretly been envious of. At times she seemed more observant than the telepath himself.             “Erik?” Carla called, comfortable enough to use his first name. He didn’t mind.             “Hello, Carla,” Erik responded. He looked down to where she had immediately grabbed his arm, all but dragging him aside from the bustling nurses’ station. Her urgency sent a shiver of panic throughout him. “Carla, what…?”             “He’s fine,” Carla assured, looking around. “Relatively.”             “What’s going on?”             Carla swept the common area once more before leading him further down the hallway, away from where Charles’s room was. They continued down a few more corridors before Erik had no idea where they were. It seemed quieter, and there were less nurses present.             “I had to move Charles this morning,” Carla said, her voice low.             “Why?” Erik demanded. He wasn’t one for broken routines, certainly, but he was more concerned about his…             His friend. Charles was still his friend. He hoped.             “He was having some issues with the…noise,” Carla elaborated, wiggling her fingers in a way that Charles often did. If he hadn’t been so alarmed, Erik would have smiled.             Carla continued speaking, as if she wasn’t sure of her next words, something that seemed rare for the nurse. “I had him moved here, with the coma patients. I don’t know if his…mental situation is affected by proximity, but he seemed to be in so much pain, and I figured it was worth a shot. He seems a little better, but we have to keep him sedated at most times. Raven understands most of his ramblings. But when he is awake for physical therapy and such, his mind…it just lashes out. He said something about the morphine making it difficult. At one point he was refusing pain medication, but he isn’t ready for that. His body will go into shock, and severe withdrawals, if we don’t slowly wean him off. And that process could take months, at minimum.”             Erik nodded, struggling to take in everything she was saying. He was relieved that she had been so quick on her feet. It was true—while Charles’s telepathy was easily able to overcome mere distance, it could certainly help, especially in his weakened state. Carla had done the best with what little she knew, and he thanked her for that. But he sensed he needed to talk to Raven, to see for himself…             He ran a hand over his face, struggling to understand how this had all escalated in the measly three days he had been gone. “Can I see him?”             “I think that would be a good idea,” Carla responded. “Both of them seem very strong, but it’s clear that Ms. Xavier needs real sleep in a real bed, not a stiff chair.”             Erik nodded, slightly apprehensive of seeing Raven, let alone a frazzled and fatigued Raven. She had certainly not been kind to him the past few days—she had barely acknowledged his presence.              They approached the door, Erik taking note of the number. Carla gently knocked, and when met with no resistance, opened it.             Erik’s eyes immediately flew to Charles.             He was passed out in a drugged stupor, but one could have easily mistaken it for death. The telepath looked impossibly frail against the seemingly large bed, but that hadn’t been new. Erik was used to the new Charles—ragged long locks that fell down to his scruffy, gaunt face. His patchy beard hid a near-skeletal facial structure, although certainly not elegantly.             What shocked Erik were his eyes. He had never seen such dark circles encompass Charles’s eyes. This was not mere exhaustion, but also bruising. He had also never seen the scratches that seemed to frame them. Jagged red lines, some more recent than others, littered his temples and forehead. If Erik had been able to see his ears beyond the mop of unruly hair, he was certain they would be there too.             Erik knew where the bruising and scratches had come from without looking at the blood caked under the telepath’s fingernails.             Mein Gott, Charles. What have you done?             Erik tore his eyes away from Charles, finally addressing Raven. She clearly was too exhausted to maintain her appearance. She still donned her “typical” blonde façade, but her hair was nearly as unkept at Charles’s. There were two minor scratches running down her clavicle, and a few on her hands. Refusing to look at Erik, she slowly stood up, her chair creaking underneath her. She began grabbing her few belongings that were scattered around the room—a magazine, empty cups, and her purse. She finally looked up at Erik, her gaze tired yet piercing. Carla glanced at the two before quietly slipping out of the room. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who felt the tension in the air, like daggers poised to strike at any moment.             Erik took a deep breath, setting his bag down. He decided to throw all caution to the wind, desperate to get a response out of Raven, who had remained silent.             “You look like shit,” he said. He carefully watched Raven, unsure of how she would react.             He had not expected her to laugh. Well, it was more of a repressed snort, but was a reaction nonetheless. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, and finally looked up.             “It’s been…well. You have no idea how it’s been.”             “Then tell me.” Silence. “I want to help.”             Now Raven was actually laughing, but it was acidic, and sent a chill down Erik’s spine. She continued for much longer than he had expected, but the longer she laughed, the more heated it became.             “That’s rich. You destroyed him, and now you want to help. Where’s Hank? I thought he was coming in?”             “Hank is occupied with a wheelchair design,” Erik quickly answered. “I understand I may be the last person you want her--”             “Last person?” Raven interjected harshly. “You’re damn right, you are the absolute last person I want with him right now. You have no idea what you did to him. No. Idea. You have turned my brother from the most foolish optimist in the world into a man that can’t stay lucid because he is in too much pain!” Her voice had raised into a shout.             “Raven, the nurses are going to come in if you don’t calm down,” Erik said slowly.             “Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down!” Raven snarled. She took a stuttered breath, the acidic smile returning to her features. “It doesn’t matter how loud I am, because we are in a ward full of vegetables. No one will hear us! I have the right to shout. And you are going to listen, because you are the reason he’s in this hellhole. Even when he’s drugged out of his goddamn mind, Charles has been trying to claw his eyes out just to make his head a little quieter! You have no idea. So you’re right, you are the last person I want here. I would rather Shaw himself be here, but he can’t be, because you turned Charles into a pawn in your murder spree to rip his brains out!”             Erik froze, clenching his fists. He could feel a slow rage burning up from his chest, heating up his face.             “How. Dare. You.” Erik spat, teeth bared. “You would rather--”                       “Yes!” Raven interrupted. It seemed to be a habit in this fight. But despite her aggressive disruption, Raven stopped. Her breath was coming out in pants; much to Erik’s surprise, she took a few moments to calm herself. He waited for her thoughts to come together.             “I would rather that none of this happened in the first place,” Raven muttered, her voice beginning to take on a hoarse quality. “I wish you had taken the high road, like Charles has always done. But he can’t now, because he can’t fucking use his legs. I wish, I wish to God, it had been you. But it wasn’t. So now you need to take the high road for Charles. You owe him that much.”             “At the least,” Erik added, eyes fixed on Raven’s, whose own seemed to be focused on a particular tile on the floor. She finally looked up.             “I’m too tired to fight with you anymore, Erik. I’m only letting you here because I am too tired to truly help him. If I stayed, he would only feel worse. I can’t have that. So I am going home for one day, and then I’ll be back. I gave Carla the landline number. And I’m going to tell her that if you so much as look at him wrong, I’ll come back. You’ve lost my trust, Erik.”             “I know,” Erik stated.             “You really don’t. For once, I thought you understood. You really made me believe that you wanted what was best for us, that we could get a future of acceptance. Not anymore. I realized the reason you hate humans so much is because you barely are one. But maybe seeing him like this will spark whatever human decency you have left, not that I think here is any. Charles thought so. He doesn’t think much anymore. Seeing him…I hope you feel his pain, see the suffering you’ve caused. I hope you feel it so deeply you don’t sleep, that it eats away at you. For now, that’s punishment enough,” Raven said. Her gaze was relentless, and Erik could have sworn he saw a glimmer of yellow in her eyes.             It was Erik’s turn to look at the floor, effectively signaling the end of the conversation.             “Good luck, Erik,” Raven spoke gently. “I’ll be back soon.” She hesitated for a moment, chewing certain words over. “If it gets too much for him, and he starts…well, just grab his arms. Last time he ripped out an IV.”             And with that, she disappeared.             Erik took a deep breath, looked around, and sat down.             It was going to be a long day.             A few minutes after he had settled in, Carla hesitantly walked in, offering a gentle smile. “Everything okay?”             “No,” Erik curtly responded. Carla sat in a chair.             “I got moved to the coma unit…well, I put in a transfer. Just for a little bit. I didn’t want to seem presumptuous, but I think it might be easier if he has a nurse that knows what’s going on. Plus, now I don’t have that much to do. It’s a nice reprieve from the ICU.”             “That was kind of you,” Erik said. He turned to her, a questioning look in his eyes. “Why are you going all this? For him? He’s a complete stranger to you.”             Carla seemed to hesitate. “He said I could help my son. And I believe him. I’m sure he’s helped others, and lord knows we need more of that. I can’t be the only one out there, scared to wave goodbye to my son on his way to school because I think he might accidentally kill someone just trying to give them a hug. I do all the mom things—I host a bookclub, pack lunches, and put up with some real bitches in the PTA. But there’s no wine club for mothers that are scared for their children. I don’t know where else to go.”             Erik nodded, wishing he knew what to say. Instead the two sat in a comfortable silence. He finally decided to speak up.             “He can. Help your son, that is. If anyone can, it’s Charles. He certainly helped me.”             “And that’s why you’re here?” Cara asked.             “Partially. I’m here because in helping me, I’d like to think we became friends. But I’m also here because I’m the person who landed him in that bed.”             Carla didn’t seem surprised, which took Erik off guard. “Ms. Xavier said something about friendly fire.”             Erik nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” He remained silent, hoping that the nurse wouldn’t prod anymore. Luckily, she didn’t.             Carla checked her watch. “Well, it’s about time for his physical therapy. If we don’t keep his legs moving every day, he could develop a blood clot. He normally is quite good at the beginning, he just seems to lose control towards the end when he’s tired. Do you want to…”             “I’d like to stay, if that’s alright,” Erik responded. Carla nodded. She removed one of Charles’s multiple IVs.             “This is his diazepam; we’ve got him on a pretty high dose. It’s for muscle spasms, which he’s had quite a lot of. But the side effect is being incredibly tired. We have to stop it during his session so he stays awake.”             Erik waited, expecting Charles to immediately shoot up from the bed. Instead, after a few minutes, Charles blearily opened his eyes. His voice was rather slurred, and sounded almost drunk.             “Oh, so you’re back. Took you long en-enough. Do you like the new décor? It’s so much quieter here,” Charles garbled, his eyes slowly creeping in Carla’s direction. “Is it that time already?”             Carla nodded sympathetically. “Charles, how do you feel?”             “Definitely a 1,” Charles said, smiling. “Aren’t drugs incredible? I feeeeeeeel great, darling.”             “Can you try to sit up, Charles?” Carla asked. This caused Charles to groan.             “Come on,” Charles whined, sounding more like a toddler than Erik had ever heard. “We just did this.”             “It’s been 6 hours, Charles,” Carla chuckled.             “Ah, well. Guess I better then,” Charles said, shakily placing his hands on either side of him. Erik watched as he tried to sit up, only hoisting himself up a few mere inches before flopping back down onto the mattress.             “Charles, remember the way we talked about? You won’t get anywhere like that.”             Charles let out a bitter laugh. “My dear, I don’t think I’ll be getting anywhere any time soon. If you don’t seem to remember, I can’t walk.”             Erik inhaled sharply. Neither of the other two inhabitants seemed to notice.             “Remember,” Carla mentioned gently, “roll onto your side first, then push up with the opposite arm.”             Charles squeezed his eyes tightly, and attempted to roll over with a huff. It wasn’t successful. “Damnit,” he whispered under his breath. Carla moved over, and gently led one of his shoulders so that he was on his side.             “You got it from here?” Carla asked, stepping back. Charles nodded, his eyes filled with a determination that Erik recognized. His arm shook as he attempted to hoist himself up, but after two attempts, he was sitting upright. After a few seconds, his face went deathly pale. Beads of sweat began to drip from his forehead, and Erik immediately noticed his arms shaking at his sides.             “Charles?” Carla asked, also picking up the rapid change in his demeanor. “What’s your scale?”             “Fi-ive,” Charles stuttered. “Sorry, I, uh…my head feels like cotton and I can’t hear?”             “It’s okay, Charles,” Carla replied. She knelt at his feet. Grabbing one of his legs, she began to lift it at the knee, moving back and forth. “All your blood just rushed to your legs. Give it a moment.”             Charles began panting, and his voice came out much louder than anticipated. “I still…I can’t hear and everything is caving. Please, p—please I need to lie down.”             “Charles, give it a few moments,” Carla urged, continuing to move Charles’s leg.             It wasn’t clear that the telepath heard her, as his head slumped forward towards his chest, his damp hair obscuring his face.             Erik was getting restless--he couldn’t just stand there. In a swift motion, he rushed behind Charles and grabbed the man’s shaking biceps. He pushed forward one thought with everything he had. He didn’t know if the man would receive it, but he urged his mind to send one clear message.             Breathe, Charles. Breathe. You are in control. Breathe.
 
            Charles immediately gasped for breath, his shoulders heaving with effort. It took a few moments for his head to raise from his chest. Erik saw Carla flash him a smile, before redirecting her attention to Charles.             “Nicely done, keep breathing,” Carla advised. She began stretching his other leg, watching color slowly return to his face. Erik walked over to the sink, filling a cup with water. He brought it over to Charles, and when the man grabbed the cup, Erik felt their fingers brush. He was overcome with emotions that he knew weren’t his own.             Yellow. Inhale. Quiet. Gratitude. Smile. Thanks.
 
            Erik glanced at the man, noticing the appreciativeness in his eyes. He hoped his own depicted a similar feeling. But in a flash it was gone, pain flooding thorough his irises as he clenched his eyes shut.             “Can we…uh…get the next part done, Carla? It’s the bloody worst part,” Charles muttered. His hands were gripping the bed sheets so firmly that his knuckles were turning white.             Carla nodded, walking over to where his wheelchair sat in the corner. She unfolded it and rolled it over. Placing one arm under Charles’s legs and one around his shoulders, she transferred him to the chair as if we weighed nothing. And that was practically true. Charles’s arms were wrapped around her neck, and for a moment, Erik felt a pang of sadness.             He looked so much like a child.             As soon as he was settled, Carla began removing the rest of his IVs, with the exception of one stand that held his liquids, and ironically enough, his urine from the catheter.             “How’s the pain?”             “A four. I’m okay, let’s keep going.”             Carla smiled, about to speak before she was interrupted. Her pager at her waist began beeping. She reached down, quickly reading the code.             “Crap,” she muttered, standing up. “I have to go. Erik, have him go down to the nurses’ station and back. Press his button if you need anything, I should be back in a few.” And without another word, she rushed out of the room.             Silence enveloped the room, as it had many times throughout the weeks, and especially today. Charles was the first to speak.             “Open the door, please?”             Erik nodded, striding towards the door. He opened it, turning his gaze back towards Charles. The man’s hands were on the wheels, but no motion came.             “Charles,” Erik prodded. “Do you need…”             “I can do this!” Charles cut off harshly. Erik would normally be hurt by the tone, but he knew Charles was in pain. And furious at him, for more than enough reasons.             Erik nodded silently, diverting his gaze away from Charles. After a few seconds he heard a slight squeak as Charles’s wheels moved half a rotation. Erik suppressed a surge of pride. It was immediately drowned out by the fact that Charles was only in this position because of him. The squeaking continued as Charles inched his way across the floor.             When he reached the door, Erik stepped backwards, allowing him through first. He watched Charles turn, and took a break as he glanced down the long hallway in front of him.             Charles looked back at Erik, hopeful yet exhausted. “Well, shall we?”             Erik walked along side Charles, afraid of the connotations of him standing either behind or in front of the man. He rolled the IV stand alongside Charles, ensuring the tubes didn’t get stuck in the wheel axle. It was a grueling battle. Every few feet, Charles had to stop to shake out his arms. Erik couldn’t help but notice the wiry veins that stood out against Charles’s pale hands. The tendons contrasted harshly against his skin, skin that was stretched taught over bones that at one point were never visible. His body was emaciated, seemingly giving up the fight before Charles’s mind. But Charles’s mind, in any fight, had never given up before the rest of his body.             “Please, you sound like Raven,” Charles muttered, angrily pushing himself forward one more stroke. For a second fear struck his face, and he turned to Erik.             “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to peek. It just…”             “It’s alright,” Erik interrupted strongly, putting an end to what he was sure to be a lengthy apology and explanation. The two continued on their slow pace down the hallway.             “I almost had Raven call the house and tell you to bring the helmet,” Charles blurted. “These past few days I’ve lost control. I almost gave Raven a stroke.”             “I would never imagine…Charles, I’m done with the helmet.”             “I don’t want you to get rid of it,” Charles said. Seeing the shock on Erik’s face, he elaborated. “The mansion needs it. All of you need it, just in case I lose control. I’m not asking you to wear it, because I don’t want that. Bu—” Charles was cut off by a gasp as he threw a hand towards his lower back.             “Fu…Gah!” Charles exclaimed. His hand was clawing at his back. Erik stood motionless, unsure of what to do. After a few seconds, Charles’s body slumped.             “The spasms only last a minute,” Charles said, his voice low. “But god, they’re miserable. I don’t think I truly understood drug addicts until now. It’s ironic—I can’t remain sane without drugs to keep the pain low, but my sanity causes others insanity. I never thought I would have to choose.”             “You don’t,” Erik said quietly. “Charles, I can handle it. I know you don’t want to burden Raven. So burden me. I deserve it, and if it helps you it’s more than worth it.             “Yes, well, we’ll see how you feel about that in about an hour,” Charles said, a glimmer of humor in his voice. “Only a few more yards to the station and then we’ll head back.”             The last few yards were certainly the hardest. Erik pretended not to notice the shaking, panting, and general enervation radiating off Charles in waves. He wanted to spare the man what little dignity he had left. He said nothing.             There were only three nurses at the station, all busy with different tasks. Erik could hear two more busting in different rooms. However, the change in Charles was immediate. His face went pallid and one hand shot up towards his hairline.             “Hello Mr. Xavier,” one of the nurses said. Charles shot back a grimace. He turned towards Erik.             “I need to go back, now,” Charles whispered urgently. “It’s g—getting loud.”             Erik nodded back to the nurses, and turned the IV cart around. Charles rapidly began wheeling, but a few yards in his arms appeared to give out. Or rather, they were more preoccupied with clutching his head. He was muttering something unintelligible to himself. Erik wrapped his arm around the stand, and used both hands to grab Charles’s wheelchair. The maneuver was awkward, but manageable. It would be easier if he could just use his powers, but he couldn’t risk the nurses seeing. Charles’s muttering might draw their attention first.             “Charles,” Erik said quietly, “Charles, keep them out. You’re strong enough to.”             The telepath’s head had gone from being clutched in his hands to falling backwards. It hit the headrest, half laying on Erik’s stomach where he was pushing the wheelchair. His hands were still clutched in his hair, the tendons in his neck popping out violently. A small stream of blood was trickling down his nostril. His teeth were in a pained grimace, and his eyes shut tightly enough to draw tears.             Fuck.             Erik shifted one hand to grip the junction between Charles’s neck and shoulder, trying not to let his panic seep through. He leaned down to speak in Charles’s ear, simultaneously pushing the wheelchair faster.             “Charles. Please, shut them out. We’re almost there.”             Rage and serenity, Charles. Come on. Bitte mein Freund. Please, my friend.
 
            When they were finally back to the room, Erik slammed the door, his mind filled with panic. He didn’t know what to do; his mind was racing, his hands shaking nearly as bad as his friend’s. He pressed the nurse call button, praying it was Carla that would respond. While he was up, he grabbed a paper towel and knelt in front of Charles.             “Here Charles, pressure.” The paper towel was rapidly turning red, and Erik wasn’t sure if the man had heard him. He was beginning to draw blood from his forehead again, scratching open old cuts and adding new ones.             “Get them out, Erik! Stop it!! They’re so loud and ahhh I can’t do this I can’t get them OUT!” What had first been unintelligible moaning had devolved into shouting between tears and wheezing.             Without thinking, Erik made a decision.             He embraced Charles.             The man was trembling and was much smaller than Erik had remembered. Wetness was beginning to cover his shirt; whether it was blood or tears he couldn’t tell. But there wasn’t time to judge the physical state of Charles when his mental one was what was tearing him apart.             Charles, focus on me. Only me. Focus on my mind. It’s yours. Rage and serenity. Rage and serenity. Rage and serenity.

TOO LOUD MAKE IT STOP GOD PLEASE THEY ALL HURT SO MUCH PAIN I JUST WANT IT TO STOP KILL ME DO SOMETHING I DON’T CARE
             Rage and serenity. Rage and serenity, Charles. Rage and serenity. Rage and serenity and rage and serenity and rage and …. 
 
            Erik wasn’t sure how long they had remained like that before Carla came in, gently pushing Erik off of Charles. Erik hadn’t realized until now that his head was throbbing, and fell back wordlessly when Carla ushered him gently to a chair. Erik watched silently as Carla placed Charles in bed, reattaching IVs. After one of the needles hit a vain, Erik watched as Charles’s body went completely limp. Probably Valium. Maybe something stronger.             Erik looked at Carla. There was a trail of blood covering his shirt, as well as tears, but no one else needed to know that. He took a deep breath before speaking.             “We have to get him out of here. As soon as possible. He won’t last in here.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

For once in his life, Charles Xavier was relieved to be home.The Xavier Mansion had often held bad memories for both he and Raven. There were good memories, certainly, but on the edge of the brightness there was always a dark shadow that threatened to spill over into the light. Before Cuba, he had clung to hopes about a school where he could help others. He wanted so desperately to prevent future generations of young minds from secluding themselves because they were afraid. He wanted to take Erik’s pain of experimentation, his own adolescent misdiagnoses of schizophrenia, and everything else and turn it into something beautiful. He wanted to build a bridge out of their broken parts so that others would not drown. But that was gone now.
I should have known. There’s no changing this house. I gave it a taste of happiness and it gorged itself until it was sick and wretched.
Charles briefly shook his head, trying to rouse himself out of a sour mood that was readily approaching. For now, he was happy to be out of the hospital. He had to be happy. Small victories.Erik had told him that he had made a few modifications to the house; Charles hadn’t truly given it any thought until they drove up to the mansion and he noticed there was a brand new addition to the doorway…A ramp.Fuck.Just when Charles thought he had gotten used to his new…affliction, something new slapped him in the face. It was a never-ending cycle of new realizations, something new to get used to, another hill to climb. A metaphorical hill that he would have to roll up.Charles took a deep breath as Raven set up his wheelchair and helped him from the car into the damned device. It sounded silly, but seeing such a grand house with an add-on ramp seemed almost comical. Pathetic. Charles took a deep breath as he approached the ramp, gravel crunching under the wheels. His arms had been extremely fatigued as the nurses had been forcing him to push himself up and down the hallways. His arms hadn’t been used to this much strain since graduate school when he was writing his thesis, scribbling on pages and pounding on typewriters until his wrists ached and he had knots all throughout his shoulders. That held nothing to the pain his arms had faced the past two weeks. His arms were gaining the muscle his legs were losing.He stared at the ramp, hardly noticing that Erik had moved around him, carrying his bag filled with dirty clothes and a ludicrous amount of prescription bottles. Erik opened the large wooden door, and glanced back at Charles, who was about halfway up the ramp. His long hair was shaking with effort, and his eyes were focused downwards. Erik could hear his breath coming out in labored pants. He hesitated for a moment, mulling over what he should do.The past two weeks had been…uncomfortable between the two. There were glimmers of the Charles he once knew—content, occasionally letting the endearment “friend” pass his lips. But the majority of the time was filled with painful silence that Erik couldn’t help but feel was his fault. It was no secret that Charles was hurting; he often went into bouts of quietness, refusing to see even Raven. The nurses had said it was normal. They constantly were giving pamphlets to Erik, Raven, and Hank about the grieving process and different counselors he should see. Charles had shut them all down immediately. Hank had secretly been doing research on physical therapists that could come to the house to help Charles adapt, but was too afraid to broach the subject. Maybe they could postpone that topic for a different time.But after the last psychic outburst, Erik had felt that he had reached a new level with Charles. At first, he was afraid that he had overstepped his boundaries, but in the end, it had helped him. Maybe Charles had been in too much pain to fight him. Maybe he was beginning to forgive. Maybe he was too drugged to care. Maybe it was all a ruse, an elaborate attempt at revenge to regain Erik’s trust, only to watch it burn. Regardless, it had seemed to put both Erik and Charles at ease, even if it was just pretending. But that didn’t ensure that it would be okay the next time. Or maybe it was expected. Erik was clueless. Only one of them was a telepath, and the silence Charles constantly exhibited only left Erik to assume. And Erik was certainly not one for optimistic thinking.Erik roused himself from his thoughts, returning his attention to Charles. Just as he was opening his mouth to offer Charles help, Raven had finished grabbing the rest of the belongings out of the car and swung them into one arm. She finished pushing the wheelchair up the ramp without permission. Charles seemed too frustrated to argue. Erik simply continued holding the door open, refusing to make eye contact with Raven as she passed through. He recalled their conversation the night of the outburst.
“Hello?”

“It’s Erik. Charles needs to come home.”

Raven sighed on the other end of the line. “Hello to you too. Erik, I don’t know…”

“I don’t know how Charles was with you, but it’s gotten severe. His nose began bleeding and he lost the ability to talk for 30 minutes just from being around other nurses. He can’t be in public anymore, for the safety of himself or others.”

“Erik, he’s not read-“

“I don’t care,” Erik growled. “I talked to Carla. He’s coming home tomorrow.”

“He needs help. We can’t give that to him here. And even if we could, I doubt he would accept it without force,” Raven said, exasperation lacing her voice.

“Raven,” Erik inquired, in a tone softer than he was used to. Maybe Charles was making him soft. “What are you so afraid of?”

Silence.

“He needs to come home. We can help. Raven, for once, please trust me. Being here is killing him.”

“Okay,” Raven conceded. “I’ll tell Hank to be ready by tomorrow.”

The line clicked off. Erik sighed, looking back at Charles who was passed out in bed. He was making the best judgment call…right? He couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t.
“Erik?” Erik closed the large wooden door, turning to face Charles. He and Raven were in the foyer, and Charles’s eyes were fixed on the most obvious addition to the mansion.The elevator was nothing fancy, but Erik had been proud of it. It was functional, but not over the top. The Xavier Mansion, in all its glory, had more of a mature and aged vibe rather than a flashy and gaudy one. Erik wanted to match that. The elevator was dark, brushed steel with trimmings to match the rest of the house. It didn’t take long with his abilities, but covered all five floors—three above ground, and the two training centers below. Working with his hands was the perfect outlet for the words his mind couldn’t conjure. In fact, he had done much of the actual construction with his hands rather than his powers, even if it took twice as long. It seemed more…genuine.Channeling guilt into hard labor, despite the cliché connotations, truly was effective. Guilt could be all-consuming. To let it create something beautiful and functional rather than destructive was a choice he never would have made before. It was something Charles did. Something Charles had taught him.“Erik, why would you…”Erik looked back at Charles, not sure how to respond. He had never been the most dialectal, but this time he scrambled to find a correct response without offending Charles or seeming like some sort of self-sacrificing savior.“Wanted to bring the house out of the 19th century, I suppose,” Erik responded. He didn’t miss the tiny smirk that graced Charles’s features before receding back into the furrowed expression that seemed to permanently reside on his face.“Should we give it a ride?” Raven asked. “Then we can go to your room and get everything set up.”Charles nodded, rolling himself forward cautiously. Once the two were in the elevator, Erik placed the bags on the floor, and headed to the kitchen for some water. As he approached, he heard arguing.“No, you have to chop the meat before you add it to the sauce!”Erik walked in to find Sean and Alex arguing over a pot, the kitchen scattered with numerous ingredients and pots. It looked like a tornado had hit.“What’s going on in here?” Erik asked, eyes surveying the kitchen.“Shit,” Sean exclaimed, turning around. “You’re like a cat. Can’t you just enter the room like a normal person?” This caused Erik to raise an eyebrow, remaining silent.“We didn’t realize you all were back,” Alex added, his eyes giving a relentless glare.Erik wasn’t shocked—he didn’t expect any of the children to accept him with open arms. They all saw Charles as a father figure. Or maybe of a cool uncle. Either way, Charles was the disgustingly positive glue that held their dysfunctional family together. He provided reassurance when doubt came, humor when all seemed lost, and the perfect example of how powers that had once been seen as a curse were truly a blessing. Erik seemed to do the complete opposite. He had just started to become cordial with them, and it had all been thrown away in a single moment.“Got out early,” Erik responded. “Charles and Raven are upstairs. What are you two doing? Where is Hank?”“Hank is downstairs finishing up the chair design.”Erik glanced around at the clutter, trying not to seem too nonplused. “And you’re making what exactly? Besides a mess?”“We’re trying to make lasagna,” Alex admitted. “It’s not going well. We knew Charles probably wouldn’t have a crazy appetite, but it’s the best we have. He loves shitty Italian food.”Erik bit back a smirk. Charles had many positive qualities, but something he had learned the more time he spent the man was what a picky eater he was. Pasta seemed to be a reliable staple for the telepath.“That sounds like a good idea,” Erik conceded. “Would you like help?”Both Alex and Sean looked shocked, glancing at each other before redirecting their gaze to Erik. “I didn’t know you cooked,” Alex said skeptically.“I don’t have a lot of experience,” Erik agreed. “But I used to cook with my mother before things got worse in Germany. Most meals were meat scraps in a stew, but she was very good at Spätzle mit Pilzen. It’s pasta with mushrooms. Plus being on the run tends to make one very resourceful. I’m not completely helpless.”“I think we could use anything at this point,” Sean muttered. “We thought it would be a good idea to make our own sauce rather than buy pre-made.”Erik sighed. “A good idea, but not the best call when it’s your first time.”Sean ducked his head in defeat. Erik walked around the mess straight to the pot, where the haphazardly created meat sauce was bubbling dangerously. Erik cautiously dipped a spoon in and tasted it, trying to mask his initial reaction. It was sour and burnt.Apparently he didn’t do a fantastic job of hiding his thoughts.“That bad?” Sean asked.Erik avoided eye contact. He had to admire their effort, but it was looking hopeless. “Sean, grab more canned tomatoes. Alex, start on the garlic but mein Gott use a fourth of what you did before. I should go let Hank know Charles is back.”Erik walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hand across his brow to rid it from the steam permeating the kitchen. He had to admire the children for what they were doing. He never doubted their loyalty to Charles; he had once thought it was foolish, to place so much trust in a man they barely knew. It could have gone either way. Charles could have appeared as a kind man truly wanting to harness their abilities, only to extort them. That would have been Erik’s first guess. But they were young and naïve and weren’t even aware that was something they should have been on the lookout for.He went down to Hank’s lab, purposely taking the stairs rather than the elevator to avoid any accidental confrontations. He had only been down to the lab a few times, knowing it was Hank’s territory that few others would understand. On the rare occasion he had been down, it had been cluttered with various test tubes and serums.When he got down to the lab, it took Erik a moment to register where Hank was. The lab was hygienic, yet cluttered. But rather than being covered in chemical science equipment, the matte black tabletops were littered with wrenches, rulers, and random metallic and plastic parts. Erik could only spot a tuft of Hank’s askew hair poking from above a tabletop, with a slight muttering guiding his path. He was in his…human form, but his hair resembled anything but. Even from a distance, Erik could see that Hank was in a hyper fixated state—his hair was standing up at odd angles, his vest wrinkled, figure hunched over an object obscured by the table. A scrawny hand peeked up and snatched a wrench, only to return to its feverish movements.“New project?”Hank sprung up from his position on the floor, clearly startled. “I didn’t realize you all were back.”“Surprise,” Erik muttered, slightly raising an eyebrow as he turned the corner. “Ah.”There was a sleek, metallic wheelchair lying next to Hank, with only one wheel assembled. It was impressive. The brushed metal with a smooth leather seat was leaps and bounds above the wobbly hospital loaner. Then of course, the hospital wheelchair didn’t have a subtle “X” marked on the wheel spokes.“I’m still not finished,” Hank interjected, watching Erik’s appraisal like a hawk. “It’s custom made, but obviously if the professor needs anything adjusted or added the design can be changed. I took a little liberty with the wheels, trying to make them slightly more angled so they don’t bump into corners.”“It’s electric?” Erik asked, noticing the small joystick on one arm.“Yes,” Hank affirmed. “I’m still struggling with the anti-lock feature.” Remembering that Erik wasn’t as familiar with his custom device, Hank continued. “I’ve been trying to make it anti-lock, so that if something is sloped it will stay in place. I’m trying to force it to automatically shut off when it’s not on use to save battery, but then the brake shuts off.”“You could just have a manual brake on the side,” Erik suggested, eyeing over the machine. “It may not be as high tech as you desire, but it is effective.”Hank nodded, but still looked frustrated. He stopped screwing the wheel for a moment, looking up to where Erik was standing. “Cerebro was much more difficult than this, I don’t know why I’m struggling with something as simple as undergrad mechanics.”“Bea..Hank,” Erik stumbled, reminding himself that the boy in front of him was just that, and not the blue monster he had become more acquainted with. “It’s a beautiful machine. It’s well built—I can barely feel any soldering. You should be proud, and I know Charles will be more than appreciative.” Erik’s mind was thrown back to Charles in the hospital—frail arms straining with effort as his legs lay useless. It was true that Charles’s upper body strength had increased, but it was not where it needed to be to get around such a large mansion.Hank’s eyes slightly widened at the refined praise, something that Erik did not give often. “Uh…thank you. The elevator is fantastic. To be quite honest I wasn’t looking forward to trying to figure out the mechanics of a stairlift.”“He would never allow it,” Erik said, hiding back a chuckle. The thought of Charles in a stairlift was amusing at the moment, and he was trying to keep the relentless guilt from slamming back into his consciousness. “Is it titanium?”“Best weight to strength ratio. Strong enough to hold a man and take a beating, but light enough to be carried fairly easily. I got it down to 16 pounds. Wanted to make it lighter, but then I’d risk structural integrity by taking anything off.”“Impressive,” Erik muttered, moving closer. He lowered his hand. “Do you mind?”“Sure,” Hank said, finishing the last wheel and turning it upside.Erik’s first instinct was to lift it by barely moving a finger, but decided against it. He had become more sensitive to the connotations of using his power around the others. He lifted the wheelchair physically with one hand, slightly shocked at its trivial weight.“Looks much heavier,” he said, gently placing the chair back on the ground. It was then that his eyes caught another wheelchair, already assembled, sitting in the corner behind the lab table.It was clear.Plastic.Hank immediately followed Erik’s gaze, and stood up. “Erik…”“I understand,” Erik said gruffly.“No, no, that’s not it at all,” Hank said defensively, his voice rising slightly. “Well, it was my original design. I brought pictures to Charles a few days before he left the hospital, but he said no. He wanted metal. I didn’t think much of it; plastic is such a fickle substance to work with anyways, especially when it needs to be weight-bearing. He didn’t want to discuss it further and wanted me to scrap it before Raven saw it. I’m sure you know she would insist on him using that one. I’m keeping it as a backup in case something happens to this one, but…it was his choice.”Erik looked away, trying to keep his mind from racing. His choice. He chose Erik. He chose trust.Hank must have picked up on Erik’s current monologue, because his eyes furrowed, and his normally open face became somber and concentrated. His voice became certain. “No one else here agrees with him. And to be honest, they don’t want you here. I don’t know how Charles truly feels, and I don’t think we’ll really know until the dust settles. Regardless of whether I think he’s making the right decision, he’s putting trust in you. It may just be subconscious, an old and familiar habit. But it’s something, and you better not fuck it up.”Erik gave a stiff nod, looking directly at Hank. “And you? Where do you stand? Raven has made her position abundantly clear.”Hank hesitated, as if all his strength and conviction had been used with his previous response. It was then that Erik truly noticed how tired he looked. “Raven wanted to leave with you. Towards the end, I mean. She aligns herself more with your position on humanity than Charles’s. Now that has changed. She is bitter that her chance at what she thought was a better life was ruined by you, the one that offered it to her. I never thought anything would draw her away from Charles. I think she’s realized that this is what your path brings—violence in the midst of battle doesn’t discriminate, regardless of intention.”“I’m aware of Raven. But that doesn’t answer my question.”Hank took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling deeply. “Why do you care, Erik? Adverse opinions we have of you have never seemed to matter in the past.”Now it was Erik’s turn to hesitate. Rather than anger, sincerity began to bleed into his voice. “Because I want to help. Because I will leave the second I get the impression that my presence is truly deemed as a threat, that my intentions are constantly questioned and judged.”Hank let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, don’t doubt for a second that I will not be watching every move you make.”“Yet you haven’t thrown one punch nor told me once to leave,” Erik refuted.“Because I trust Charles,” Hank snapped back, trying to compose himself. “Because I am not impulsive like Alex, or hesitant like Sean. I have spent days antagonizing over whether to trust you again. And the only conclusion I can come up with is that if Charles sees something in you that the rest of us are missing, then I’ll just stand back and watch. He is far too trusting, but I am willing to put faith in him, ergo you, until I have a reason not to.”Erik nodded, mulling over Hank’s defense. He agreed with everything said, but reminded himself it was more a defense of Charles than forgiveness of Erik.“I want to be better,” Erik admitted, after a moment of hesitation. “I am not here for my own penance or to win you all back. I am here because I want to help. I will accept being tolerated an acquaintance. And if I am asked to leave, I will without a second thought.”Hank held eye contact for a second longer, seeming to accept Erik’s response warily. They would leave that conversation there for now. “Speaking of which, where is the professor?”“Raven took him up to his room,” Erik responded. “The others are making dinner. If everything stays on track, it should be done within the hour. I’m doubtful. They could probably use your help.”“How?” Hank asked, raising an eyebrow.Erik shrugged. “I’ve always compared cooking to chemistry, precise measurements and a great deal of skill. I assumed it was something you would excel at.”Hank straightened up the tools on the table. “I tried; I failed. I understand the chemical reactions that take place in cooking, but fail at executing them well. If you’re heading up I’ll join you.”The two men walked up the stairs, a solemn understanding filling the air between them. Hank had made his boundaries clear, and Erik was relieved he had done so. Hank, despite the youthful face and uncertain prose, had resilient opinions. Raven often let her opinion be known; however, her outbursts were frequent and changing. Hank’s were the polar opposite—he took a long time to form his opinions, often keeping them to himself. But once they were out there, they rang true like solid steel.Erik had been honest when he said that he needed no acceptance or approval from the others. However, figuring out the boundaries with each inhabitant in Xavier mansion would certainly give help him navigate a territory he was already frightened of.When they got to the main level, Erik was pleasantly surprised that smoke had not filled the dining room nor kitchen. It actually smelled…decent? The burnt smell of marinara still lingered in the air but was overcome with a more pleasant smell of pasta and garlic bread. Hank’s stomach growled behind him, and Erik also realized that he couldn’t remember the last he had eaten. Crappy hospital coffee had become his lifeblood, as cliché as the concept seemed. Erik could hear Alex and Sean in the kitchen, bickering as normal.Erik walked into the kitchen, leaving Hank in the living room. Both boys fell quiet as if they had been caught arguing by a parent. They both threw a glance at Hank, and noticing his lack of anger, relaxed a little.“Smells better,” Erik mumbled, careful not to sound condescending. He glanced at the oven. Three large glass dishes of lasagna sat on the stove, fresh out of the oven. Feeding the house, a house mainly inhabited by young men, was similar to feeding an army. Sean grabbed a dish while Alex and Hank took the other two.Suddenly there was a commotion from the dining room. Erik tensed up, crumpling the napkins he was currently holding and turned the corner. He had only been home for an hour and could already feel a migraine sprouting.His shoulders relaxed when he saw that Raven had brought Charles down. Alex and Hank were giving handshakes to Charles, and when they stepped away, Sean went in with a hug that seemed to startle them both. Meanwhile, Raven was moving a chair away from the head of the dining table, where Erik assumed she would have Charles sit. Luckily, the old table was just low enough to where it would be no issue for Charles to eat.He purposely did not make eye contact with Raven, and seeing as how the boys had already taken seats, he ended up at the other head end of the table.“This looks wonderful,” Charles said, giving a tired but genuine smile. Erik didn’t fail to notice the thin glimmer of sweat on his brow, and sallow cheeks that seemed more likely to reject food than accept it. He figured Charles hadn’t had his most recent dose of pain medicine. He had seen how the different medications had made Charles lose control of his telepathy at the hospital, and Erik knew he wouldn’t risk that in front of anyone besides him and Raven. The scratches on his face were just beginning to heal, leaving dulled red lines along his temple. Thankfully, they were mostly obstructed by his hair.Erik clearly was not the only one who had noticed Charles’s frail appearance. Alex’s anger had appeared to reignite as his nostrils flared and eyes furrowed. A quiet, albeit awkward silence surrounded the table.“Oh I haven’t died,” Charles muttered, a hint of humor in his voice. “Are we going to eat?”“Please,” Sean said.“Here,” Raven interjected, standing up and grabbing the serving spoon. She began scooping the pasta out of the dish, passing heaping plates of gooey lasagna, bread, and salad down the table. Erik accepted a plate from Sean, slightly embarrassed about how eager he was to eat.The silence became less awkward as everyone was satisfied eating, the empty space being filled by clanking silverware and glasses. The food really was pretty good, much to Erik’s surprise. As he lifted his fork, he took notice of the composition to it. It was old silver—thick, pure, and had a comforting weight to it. It was polished, but Erik appreciated the inner material more than the outward appearance. The Xavier Mansion was filled with old metal. It was the first thing that struck him about the house when he had first been introduced.
“Honestly Charles, I don’t know how you survived. Living in such hardship,” Erik scoffed, using humor to hide his disbelief. When he turned to face Charles, he saw the man frown slightly.

“It was a hardship softened by me,” Raven interrupted, pushing past Erik to grab Charles’s arm, whose face flashed back to a smile within an instant. He kissed the top of Raven’s head, his eyes refilling with determination as they made their way towards the house.

Even as they were walking up, Erik could feel himself being slowly filled with a surge of…something. When they opened the large doors, he realized exactly what it was. The house was filled with an incredible amount of metal—fine silver antiques, a stronghold beneath the surface that rang with resilience, and a metallic framework that went on for ages, providing the structure for such a large home. It was a difficult feeling to describe. There was so much to work with, and being surrounded with so much metal made him feel safe. It was a security that came with a renewed sense of power. It was potential.
Erik’s eyes snapped back briefly to Charles, who was currently enjoying his first bite of food with a rigor Erik almost forgot the man possessed.“This is fantastic. Thank you all,” Charles said, smiling. He eagerly took another bite as if to prove his point. It seemed a comical reverse to what he had witnessed only two days prior.“Well, we had some help,” Sean admitted, gesturing to Erik with his fork. “We were going in a very different direction before you all came home.”Charles briefly looked at Erik, his eyebrows raising slightly.“There might be hope for us yet,” Raven muttered, looking around. “I don’t think anyone here actually knows how to cook.”“Well we need to learn, Charles can’t be our mighty leader looking that skinny,” Alex retorted. Raven shot him a small glare before Charles chucked.“I’m afraid all I’ve been able to stomach is Jello,” he said, a slight look of disgust on his face. “I’m surprised my skin isn’t permanently dyed red.”“I would give my left arm to eat Jello for the rest of my life,” Sean said, before his eyes widened. “Wait, that came out wrong. Professor, I’m so…”“It’s fine,” Charles reassured quickly. He truly didn’t look upset, but it didn’t seem to assure Sean. “Truly, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to get upset over a well-intentioned joke. I’m sure we can get you Jello at a far less extreme price.”Sean nodded, but his face remained almost as scarlet as his hair.“The only one not allowed to stick his foot in his mouth is Hank,” Charles continued. “It would be obscene with feet that size.”That seemed to get a laugh, and the tension in the room dissipated, as well as most of the food. The boys had cleared their plates, although Charles only had a few bites before he subtly pushed his plate away, face looking slightly green.“Thank you again,” Charles said, trying to keep his smile from turning into a nauseous grimace as he cleared his throat. “Just what the proverbial doctor ordered. But I think I might ah…return to my room. I’m feeling a little drained to be quite honest.”All the others nodded, while Raven stood up. “Do you want me to…”“Actually, professor, I have something I want to show you, so I’ll go with you,” Hank said, standing up clumsily. Charles nodded, pushing himself away from the table as Hank followed. Raven, who was already standing, began bringing dishes to the kitchen as the rest followed. Erik, feeling a little out of place, grabbed his plate and a few glasses, following suit into the kitchen.Raven had already taken the washing position at the sink, so Erik stood next to her, grabbing a dishtowel to dry. The other two boys were putting things back in the fridge, talking amongst themselves. Erik threw a side glance at Raven, who was silent, her face set in stone. He focused his attention back to drying the dishes, preferring the silence to her unabating rage.“Basketball?” Alex asked, nudging Sean. “I’d say we have a good thirty minutes of daylight left.”“You said we would play soccer this time,” Sean pouted.“Well it’s a bummer that the lawn hasn’t been mowed,” Alex retorted, shutting the fridge.“Because it’s your job!” Sean replied. “I’m not doing your job just so that I can play the only sport I stand a chance at beating you at!”“Bummer,” Alex said, walking out of the kitchen, looking back at Sean.Sean let out a groan and reluctantly followed Alex out of the kitchen. “I hate you so much,” he grumbled.Erik smirked quickly, putting dried dishes in the cabinet. Part of him wanted to be envious—envious that these boys were living such different lives than he was at their age. They were having fun. Perhaps the only reason Erik wasn’t jealous because he knew that they had already shown that they could be the soldiers when needed. Erik had been weathered at such a young age that he didn’t have time to consider a different path. Then again, he also didn’t have friends at that age. He hadn’t minded. His mind had been too clouded with anger to see any other option than self-reliance. It was easier that way.But these boys were happy, and he didn’t have it in him to be bitter. Not right now.Erik walked back to the sink. “Anything else I need to do?” he asked, placing the towel on the counter.Silence.“Aren’t we done,” Erik asked gruffly, “with this little war? I already told Hank that I’ll leave. Don’t you think we can be civil if not just to avoid a hostile mood? From my understanding, Charles can read the mood of a room faster than those tedious genetics books.”Nothing.“Raven?” Erik asked, becoming tired of playing childish games. He turned to face her, only to be taken aback.She was crying.Similar to her battle movements, Raven was a soft crier. Erik had been so used to seeing rage, unbridled and pure, that he forgot that she was a cunning person by nature. She was aware of what she could do to men (and the occasional woman.) Her eyes, smile, and movements were not dissimilar to a lynx. Her movements on the battlefield were smooth—you didn’t realize you were in trouble until it was too late.Likewise, Raven’s face was not red, the polar opposite of what Erik had expected. Her tears were graceful, if there even was such a thing. They streamed down her face in rivulets, curving down her cheeks and off her chin. Her hand, which had previously been clutched on the counter, swiped up to her face. He glanced at the red marks running down her arms, slightly more healed than the ones littering Charles’s head. Erik looked down, not wanting Raven to feel like a spectacle. He suspected he was the cause of the normally steadfast walls that were crumbling before his eyes. Well, realistically, Charles was the cause, but that all came back to Erik. These weren’t angry tears; they felt similar to mourning.“It’s not right,” Raven said, her voice barely above a whisper.Erik waited for her to elaborate but spoke when she stayed silent. He chose his words carefully, knowing that she was a powder keg that had already proved very volatile. “Which part? Besides what I already suspect.”“This,” Raven sighed, her free hand gesturing around the kitchen. “Like we can pretend that everything is back to normal and we can just be some nuclear family. I understand that we have to pretend that everything’s back to normal so we don’t depress Charles, but it’s still not right. We can’t act as if nothing happened.”“I know.”Raven looked up, her tears reassuming the place where she had previously brushed them away. “I don’t even know what to do now. Obviously we can’t do any missions, but we can’t just play house until either you or Charles decide to restart your war for or against humanity. But it’s this pretending game or allowing everyone to be miserable and letting Charles fall into a pit of despair.”“I think he’s far too optimistic for that,” Erik stated.“I’m not so sure anymore,” Raven admitted. “Everyone deals with things differently. You and I get mad. Charles doesn’t.”“So what does he do?”Raven glanced up, as if hesitating. “He shuts down. I have known him far longer than you, and I can assure you it won’t end in broken glass or warped metal. He will fall into his mind and never come out. And he’ll do it with a self-sacrificing smile because he doesn’t want to hurt or concern anyone else.”Erik frowned. “You sound like you speak from experience.”“A few times,” Raven nodded quietly, glancing around. “A shitty mom and a shittier stepdad created a Charles you wouldn’t even recognize now. You take his optimism as naivety, but it’s a survival mechanism.”“I always thought his optimism is what was going to get him killed,” Erik countered. Raven started to scowl, but then just shook her head, wiping her face one last time.“Honestly? Me too,” Raven said, a small smile gracing her features. She took a deep breath. “I’m…I’m sorry. I’m still so fucking mad at you. There’s so much going on right now and I don’t feel ready for any of it. I don’t know how to deal with this.”“It’s okay,” Erik resigned. “No one does. I have a lot to fix, and truth be told I don’t think I’m capable. But I would like a chance. He deserves that.”“Yes, he does,” Raven agreed. “Which is always why you’re not going to tell him his precious little sister cried in the kitchen.”“I have no doubt that if I were ever foolish enough to, I would have to sleep with one eye open,” Erik said, trying to restore a little bit of Raven’s confidence.“Damn straight,” Raven affirmed. Erik knew she wasn’t joking. “Ugh. I need a shower. I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked out, running a hand through her hair without looking back at Erik. Suddenly she stopped and turned around.“I’m sorry, I forgot…will you give Charles his medicine tonight? If I go back in there he’ll instantly know I’m upset.”Erik looked like a deer in the headlights, causing Raven to shake her head. “They’re in his bathroom, behind the mirror. I made a chart. I don’t want him taking them on his own. Not that I think he would do something stupid, but he can’t remember the time of day on them, and I can see him accidentally thinking it’s time for more.”“Yes,” Erik replied, trying to sound more assured than he really felt. He nodded as Raven headed off, eyes directed on the ground. What if he messed something up? And more importantly, what state would Charles be in when he went up there? Erik figured Hank would still be up there, which he hoped meant Charles would be amiable.He began walking up the stairs, running his hand along the beautiful oak banisters, trying to remain calm. It was a strange combination—he was exhausted, deep down to his core. His shoulders ached and he felt a throbbing behind his eyes. But he was also on edge, afraid of making one wrong step or comment and throwing the delicate balance he and Charles were barely sustaining to the wind.He hesitated a moment before walking into Charles’s room, ears tingling when he heard gasping. It took a moment for him to register the noise as happy, rather than distressing.“…Oh my God, it’s so comfortable. I think. Well, the backrest feels amazing on my shoulders. Hank, you are a true miracle-worker.”Erik huffed, before knocking on the large wooden doors. He should really make them automatic, something he had overlooked when doing the elevator. Hank opened the door, the remnants of a smile gracing his features. As Erik walked into Charles’s room, he took in the familiar scent. It was dark leather and old books and amber whiskey; it was comfort. It was Charles.“Have you seen this?” Charles asked. He was currently sitting in Hank’s wheelchair. He was beaming, and it appeared that Hank had already helped him change into comfortable clothes.“I did on the way in,” Erik replied. “It really is beautiful.”“I did stick with the manual brake,” Hank said offhandedly to Erik. “Not forever, but I think it will do just fine for now.”Erik hummed in affirmation. “I agree.”“Bathroom’s through there,” Charles said, pointing towards the right. Erik didn’t need to ask how Charles had known what he was looking for. It wasn’t even telepath related; it was the fact that Erik had come up to his room without any other obvious reason for being there.Erik opened the mirror and was stunned at Raven’s organization. Each little orange bottle had the medication names highlighted, and the inside of the mirror had a chart defining how many of each pill at which time, and when the tapering would begin. No wonder Raven felt overwhelmed. That being said, it was an excellent system. Erik twisted the caps off of two different bottles. One was Percocet, the other was Valium. Feeling lost, he held the bottles up, reading what they were for. The first was for pain, and the other for muscle spasms. He recognized the second one, from when they had to sedate Charles. Sleep in a pill. He knew it did more than that, but it was clear that Charles needed as much uninterrupted sleep as he could manage.Despite having no feeling of his legs, Charles was still having intense back spasms. Erik had seen a few, and they were nothing short of horrifying. Carla had helped at Erik stood motionless, watching Charles grapple at a phantom pain in his back as his eyes clenched and shoulders shook. They only lasted a minute, but left him exhausted. Erik walked back in, pills in hand, to witness Charles grasping Hank’s hand and muttering a multitude of thanks. Hank looked just as happy, gripping Charles’s shoulder once and wishing him a good night as he walked out.“Thank God,” Charles muttered, eyeing the pills Erik held. He dropped them in Charles’s hand, along with a glass of water. He watched as Charles washed the pills down with a gulp of water, handing the glass back to Erik. He let his head fall back onto the headrest of the chair, closing his eyes. His hair had gotten long, the dark locks nearly brushing against his shoulders. It was a stark contrast against his pale neck, where the veins were sticking out a little more than they should have.“Lasagna was fantastic,” Charles murmured.“You looked a little worse for wear on your third, and final, bite.”Charles opened one eye. “It didn’t end up in the wastebasket fifteen minutes later. Small steps.”Erik raised his eyebrows.“Oh fuck off, Erik,” Charles said, but it didn’t have a lot of malice behind it.“I will, you know,” Erik said quietly.That caused Charles to raise his head fully, his eyes piercing. “I do know. And it’s not a conversation I want to have right now.”“Fair enough,” Erik said, setting the glass on the bedside table. His mind was racing, feeling an urgent need to fill the silence, to say something.
I’m sorry.

I would give anything to turn back time.

It shouldn’t be like this.

Do you even remember two days ago?

I’m so scared for you.

I want to leave. I need to leave.

I’m so fucking sorry.
“I know,” Charles said, interrupting Erik’s thoughts. Before Erik could say anything else, Charles harshly interjected.“It’s not peeking if you’re broadcasting your self-hatred through the entire house,” Charles defended. “But dinner was already an assault of pity from an entire table. I’d appreciate if you could shut up for a moment.”“I can’t shut off my thought process,” Erik said, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Maybe I should just leave. You should enjoy a bed that doesn’t have wires attached to it.”“I think that might be best,” Charles said quietly. His face was beginning to flush, no doubt from an influx of drugs into his bloodstream.“Goodnight, Charles.” Erik looked back, feeling unfulfilled. It was so wrong of him, thinking that he would receive some sort of fulfillment from seeing Charles. He knew forgiveness wouldn’t come in a conversation—he had gotten bits and pieces, but that was to be expected. Charles played mind games, and Erik was far too happy to play along.That was the problem. There would be no big, emotional discussion that resolved everything. Breaking trust could happen in a moment, but the rebuilding process was slow and grueling. He was Sisyphus, endlessly pushing a boulder up a hill, but it was a punishment he deserved. He thought their last conversation at the hospital had been a breakthrough. Even that was a stretch. It wasn’t a conversation caused by a need to apologize. It was a frantic attempt at stopping Charles from tearing himself apart, throwing emotions into the air. It was a ragged and sloppy attempt of showing Charles that he was sorry, and even that brief moment had been so terrifying that it was difficult to tell if it was sincere, or even welcome.“Wait,” Charles sighed, causing Erik to turn around. “Firstly, you have to stop. Stop this stupid ‘I should just leave everyone hates me,’ blah blah bullshit.” Erik was too taken aback by Charles’s casual language to even fully take in his point. Drugs really did lower inhibitions…and apparently proper speech.“Just. S-stop,” Charles said, just short of begging. “Please. I’m serious. We can talk later. But everything hurts and my brain feels like goop and Raven is being so miserable I can feel her crying four doors down. And I can’t have you feeling pathetic when I have to stoop to embarrassing lengths to ask for a favor.”“Which is?” Erik questioned, purposely ignoring the beginning of Charles’s mini-speech. Charles looked at the ground, his wiry hands clenching into fists.“I can’t…”Erik felt a familiar nudging in his head, a soft voice that was more of a whisper than the usually strong reverberation that took up the entire cavity in his skull. It wasn’t confident; it was meek. It certainly was not the confident voice he was used to hearing.
I’m tired, Erik.
“I thought that was the whole point of the Valex,” Erik supplied, not in the mood to have this conversation mentally.“Valium,” Charles corrected, annoyance dripping from his ragged voice. “And yes, that contributes. But that’s not—”Erik looked at Charles. Even a blind person would be able to feel the telepath’s fatigue. He was sweating and trembling, similar to a drug addict going through withdrawals. But clearly that wasn’t the case, seeing as he had just ingested multiple narcotics. His head was resting in his hand, barely balanced and threatening to slip off at any moment. For God’s sake, why didn’t the man just go to bed?“Oh,” Erik breathed, finally understanding as his eyes flitted between Charles and the bed. He couldn’t get into bed on his own. Carla had always helped, and the bed in the hospital was lowered do that it was a short shuffle over. The Xavier mansion didn’t have those considerations regarding furniture.“Right,” Erik said, clearing his throat. He walked over to Charles, placing one hand under Charles’s arms and another under his knees. Erik glanced at him quickly, as if for a confirmation that he was ready, but didn’t receive the glance of the normally piercing blue eyes he was accustomed to. Charles was simply looking at the ground, shame radiating off him in acrid waves.Erik took a deep breath, and lifted Charles from the chair, quickly slowing his motions as he forgot how much weight he had lost the past two weeks. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as cold hands snaked around his collar for support. Erik felt a deep twinge in his heart, but pushed it away as quickly as it came.Erik was careful setting Charles down on the plush bed, moving one of the multiple pillows behind his back, careful not to tangle the catheter in the sheets. It felt strangely intimate. It felt like trust. It might have been more reassuring if Charles hadn’t been shaking like a leaf. It would have been trust if Erik had been confident about his movements, rather than afraid he would break the man that now resembled a piece of fine china.Erik tried to hide his concern as Charles winced, sucking in a shallow breath between his teeth. He looked away as Charles rearranged his limp legs, leaning back onto his heap of pillows.“Is that okay?” Erik asked hesitantly.“Yes, thank you,” Charles said, eyes closing, and the wrinkles in his forehead slowly diminishing. “Truly.”“Of course,” Erik replied, awkwardly looking around the room for a once-over before nodding and turning to leave.Charles snorted, without even opening his eyes, his words just beginning to slur. “Uncertainty doesn’t suit you, my friend.”“Goodnight to you as well,” Erik said, unsure whether to be amused or offended. He walked out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.The walk back to his room progressed in a bit of a blur, emotions and fatigue taking over. As he entered his room (well, his room at the Mansion,) his body switched to autopilot. He could barely keep his eyes open as he brushed his teeth and changed, all but throwing himself into bed.Once he got settled, he found his eyes slipping shut immediately, exhaustion seeping through his bones.
“My friend.”
Erik let a small smile slip onto his lips, relief washing over him like a cool wave. “Small steps my ass,” he murmured to himself, letting sleep take him for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Sisyphus was off duty tonight.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Raven shouted, racing upstairs.            Erik looked up from his coffee and newspaper to the mousy young woman standing at the door in terror, her hand already on the doorknob. Her eyes flitted to Raven who was halfway upstairs, and then she looked over to Erik, eyes wide.            Erik had heard her come in fifteen minutes ago. She was pleasant, brunette, and seemed far too small to be a physical therapist. To be honest, he hadn’t paid her much attention; he was too focused on locating the closest cup of coffee.             But now she was standing at the door, halfway ready to leave, staring at Erik with a terrified expression.            “Uh, nothing to do with you. You can leave, thank you.” Erik said, trying not to sound as confused as he looked. And with that permission, the woman exited the mansion quickly. Erik let out a sigh and swiftly bounded up the stairs after Raven. He had to give her credit—she was fast when she was angry.            He reached Raven halfway down the west wing hallway, despite her angry marching. He grabbed her elbow before she could continue with her determined trudging, causing her to whip her head around.            “Do you want to tell me what just happened?” Erik said, his tone just short of a growl. “That woman looked terrified.”            “Oh, I know,” Raven replied, snatching her arm out of Erik’s loosened grip. “She said that Charles told her she was mistaken, and reminded her that she had somewhere else to be.”            “And by ‘reminded,’ I assume you mean…”            “Yes,” Raven hissed, interrupting Erik. His eyes widened slightly.            Charles never hesitated to use his powers to reach out to strangers when he and Erik had been searching for more mutants. In the beginning, Charles had been so wrapped up in the possibilities of his mind that he forgot it was a serious invasion of others’ privacy. Erik and Raven made sure to remind him.  In general, Charles avoided projecting or reading unless it seemed necessary. Raven had said he experimented a lot more in college (no doubt to impress in a bar), but as he matured, so did his control. Erik remembered Charles’s confession in the hospital.            “Everywhere I go I hear voices, feel emotions, and get glimpses into other people’s thoughts, whether I want to or not. I can’t just turn it off. Just to shield myself from others takes energy—all the time, every second. It’s exhausting.”             Erik had understood that. He tried not to blame Charles when his telepathy passively slipped—sending calming thoughts to overcome a negative emotion or seeming to answer a question before it had even been asked.            But changing a narrative, convincing someone of a false truth, was another matter entirely. It was a clear violation of autonomy, a conscientious action rather than an accidental observation. To be quite honest, Erik didn’t think that Charles was strong or lucid enough at this point to deliberately do that. Every intrusion by Charles thus far had been accidental, a moment of weakness.            Somehow it was scarier to think that Charles had changed the physical therapist’s thoughts because he was weak. That implied that his natural reaction when weak or hurt was to invade, to persuade, to abuse his power to avoid pain. It meant that this weakness allowed him to comfortably resort to cruelty.            It wasn’t an entirely new concept to Erik, to lash out like a wounded animal when threatened. But there was certainly a difference between that and what Charles was doing.            “And what are you going to do?” Erik asked. He knew Raven did not take Charles’s meddling lightly. She was practically quivering with rage.            “I’m going to kill him, have Hank restart his heart so I can tell him just how careless he is, and then kill him again,” she snarled. Raven was often hot-headed, but Erik prayed that her slight overreaction was due to sleep deprivation and worry, rather than a legitimate murderous rage.            “Come on,” Raven said, continuing down the hall. “You’re coming with me.”            “Why?” Erik asked carefully but followed her nonetheless.            “To pull me back when I turn him into a quadriplegic,” Raven said, not even looking backwards. Erik inhaled sharply.            Okay. So legitimate murderous rage.            Raven turned the corner into a room that Erik had never seen before. He did not think the day would ever come where he could confidently identify each room in the mansion. She threw open the doors, which revealed an array of medicine balls, mats, a few chairs, and something resembling a massage table. Probably Hank’s doing.            Charles sat in the corner of the room, gazing out the window onto the bright field below. He didn’t acknowledge the intrusion at all.            “What the hell?” Raven demanded. Charles briefly glanced at her but said nothing. He was leaning over onto one armrest of his chair quite a bit, almost like a lopsided puppet whose strings had been cut. But he otherwise seemed unperturbed and disinterested by Raven’s outburst.            Raven let out a frustrated groan and stalked closer to his chair. “This isn’t a joke, Charles,” she said. “Hank did a lot of research to find her after Carla recommended her. Not only did she have stellar reviews, but she is one of the only physical therapists in the area that does house calls. You had no right.”            Charles shrugged, shifting slightly. Erik noticed his slight wince but apparently Raven did not. Her eyes were glinting yellow, but it was clear she was seeing red.            “I can’t believe you would stoop so low,” Raven sneered, disgust flooding her voice. “What happened?”            “Mmm, I seem to recall losing the feeling in my legs, darling. The rest is sort of a blur,” Charles muttered, but his voice was surprisingly light. “Do try to keep up.”            “Oh my god,” Raven scoffed, taking a step back. “I can’t tell if you’re high or just an ass.”            “Bit of both,” Charles responded.            Raven swung her gaze to Erik, similar to a predator hearing a twig snap in a forest. “You have to back me up on this.”            “Yes,” Erik said, but he cringed when he heard the hesitancy lining his words. Apparently, that was the wrong tone to answer with because Raven stared at him incredulously.            “Charles, why did you send her away?” Erik asked, turning his head to face the telepath.            “I felt ill.”            “And that justified meddling in her head?” Erik questioned. He felt irritation bubbling in his chest at Charles’s poor, and probably fictitious, excuse.            “Don’t be so dramatic,” Charles said, rolling his eyes briefly but returning his focus to the window. “It was no more suggestion than that of the average advertisement. Honestly, anyone with the barest knowledge of psychology could have done the same.”            “You know that’s not true,” Erik shot back quickly.            “She can come back next week, perhaps when she is certain she turned her stove off before she left,” Charles said nonchalantly, turning to face Erik. The metal bender was slightly taken aback—Charles’s pupils were blown, his normally blue eyes unfocused and dark.            “You said we were supposed to be the better men,” Erik scoffed. “That’s not what I’m seeing.”            “Oh, do tell,” Charles said coolly. “What do you see?”             “I see someone willing to compromise everything he once stood for because he is scared,” Erik started. He felt the familiar surge of anger slowly squeezing his chest—it shouldn’t have felt as comforting or familiar as it did. He should have shut up; he should have held it back. “I see a man cowardly enough to violate a stranger’s mind because he’s too afraid of being jostled around by a thirty-year-old woman for an hour. You wouldn’t even be able to feel it, mein gott!”            The second the words left his mouth, Erik knew he had made a mistake.            Charles’s passive expression quickly slipped into subdued fuming. Rage and serenity, how ironic.            “Get out,” Charles demanded, voice controlled and cold.            “Charles, I—”            “Don’t care,” Charles said, effectively cutting Erik off. Raven moved stepped forward to interject, but Charles flicked his hand as if to silence her.              Raven wasn’t just silent. She was completely frozen. Charles’s eyes remained on Erik, his hand still outstretched.            “Erik, out.”            “No,” Erik responded, taking a strong step forward. His glance flicked to Raven and back, bile beginning to creep up his throat. “Charles, let her go!”            “You said that if I wanted you to leave, you would. So leave,” Charles said briskly.            “Not like this,” Erik negated, his words clipped and desperate. “You know exactly what I meant. I won’t let you make this decision on a drug-induced whim. I’m staying right here until you stop being an ass. And you won’t have such an easy time sending me away.”            Erik almost missed the half-second in which Charles’s indifference flickered into something unrecognizable. Charles steeled his shoulders, his slumped posture becoming straight.            But Erik didn’t have time to focus on microexpressions.            He became a little more focused on the fact that one of his legs was stepping shakily backwards, out of his control, and he elicited a gasp.            The air was punched out of his lungs as his vision became hazy, and his head felt impossibly dense.            What was I…             His last thought vanished and was replaced with something else. All he could feel was the instructions running through his head, as if on autopilot, speeding up with every second.            Adductors. Adductors back. Bicep femoris flex. Hamstrings contract. Quadriceps relax. Relax. Relax!             He wasn’t breathing. His chest was constricting painfully as he tried gasping, but his lungs only felt more empty. The only thing moving was his legs, bringing him backwards with each excruciating step. His knee didn’t seem to be bending, but his leg was being brought back painfully at the hip.            Backwards. Legs backwards. Diaphragm contract. CONTRACT! Down. Air in. Now up. Diaphragm up, air out. Repeat. Relax. Repeat.             His vision was blurry. Was he crying? He must be crying.            Was he breathing? It didn’t feel like he was breathing. He gasped and gasped but it was never enough. It was like inhaling helium—his lungs were never satisfied, and each deep breath only made him more lightheaded. Another step backwards. He heard a singular declaration in his head, but it felt muffled over the blood rushing through his ears.            Not very fun, is it? Not having control of your body.             His heart was pulsating, beating so fast he could feel the skin around his ribs stretching with each spasm. His legs were still carrying him backwards, and he felt the corner of the door press painfully into his back. Had he already crossed the room? He couldn’t turn his neck to check, every muscle in his body stiff.            Erik grit his teeth together painfully, praying to break the override. Why wouldn’t his body listen to him? He looked up, neck protesting and veins throbbing. The woman…(Raven?) was shaking the man in the chair. He couldn’t see his face. Who was he? He heard shouting, but it was all fuzzy around the edges.            Suddenly his legs buckled, and a burst of pain radiated from his knee as it hit the floor. Each action potential, nerve fibers twitching and firing and relaxing and repeating, felt like an earthquake on its own. His throat burned, and tears were streaming down his face.
            Screaming? I’m screaming. How long have I been screaming?
            Distant shouting became louder, and Erik felt some of the pressure in his head dissipate, like a steam valve had just released. He drew in a shaky breath, relieved when his lungs held onto the air for a fraction of a second before releasing it. He still couldn’t focus his eyes. Everything was blurry, like gritty sand had been thrown into face.            The door behind him swung open, smacking against his back. He knew it should have hurt more, but his brain registered it as a dull thud. Someone was squeezing through the door, yelling. Why was everyone yelling? Why were they grabbing his head? He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the hot tears streaming down his face gott what is happening… end… this…. now.             And then it was silent.            Erik opened his eyes. He was staring at the ceiling, and everything was blissfully quiet. His head was enveloped in a cool weight, the only sound was the pulse thumping in his ears.            He sat up, barely registering the helmet encircling his head.            Apparently that was a mistake, because he felt his head thump back down onto the floor. It was actually quite nice. Everything was quiet, and he took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of full lungs. He would close his eyes just long enough to catch his breath.                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~             Erik groaned, trying to turn his head. His neck ached, his head throbbed, and his throat felt like sandpaper.            The metallic helmet prevented his movement. He returned his head to a straight position and opened his eyes. He was staring at the dark ceiling. Hadn’t he just done that? But he was back in his room, instead of on the floor in the west wing. He reached up, sliding the sweat-coated helmet off of his head, ignoring when it thumped off his bed onto the floor. His hair was damp, but it was a negligible discomfort compared to the way his head ached.            “Erik?”            Erik sat up quickly, wincing as his knee and back protested. The room was dark, but the lamp in the corner revealed Hank sitting in his plush chair. He set down the book he must have been reading, approaching Erik.            “How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching for Erik’s wrist without hesitation.  His nimble fingers slipped under Erik’s sleeve, pressing against his pulse point. He looked at his watch, counting under his breath.            “Like I’ve been run over,” Erik grumbled, slightly shocked at Hank’s informality.  He swallowed, trying not to wince when he felt how sore his throat was.  The younger man remained quiet for a few seconds, before removing his hand.            “Ninety-four,” Hank frowned. “Still far too high. What else?”            “Head and back,” Erik groaned, sitting up straighter. “What happened?”            Hank glanced at Erik. “The back was my fault; I didn’t realize you were against the door and I swung it open without thinking. How much do you remember?”            “We were talking to Charles and…I’m not sure,” Erik said slowly, surprising himself. “Everything went to shit.” He closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember, his eyes scrambling against the back of his eyelids. It shouldn’t have been difficult to remember. They were arguing, and then his head hurt, and…            “Not very fun, is it? Not having control of your body.”            “He took control,” Erik muttered, his eyes widening in realization. “He broke into my head. He wanted me to leave, and I didn’t, so he…” He suddenly felt sick. “What happened?”            “I heard Raven screaming,” Hank said quietly. “It didn’t take very long to guess what had happened. I’m sorry, I grabbed the helmet from your room and ran up. You were on the floor and Raven was trying to shake Charles out of…well, I’m not sure. It looked like a trance. I put the helmet on you, trying to shield your mind, but I’m not sure if it worked. You were out cold.”            “And Charles?” Erik asked angrily.            “Sedated,” Hank said, his voice clipped. He didn’t elaborate.            Erik ran his hands over his face, allowing the silence to stretch on for a minute. He wasn’t used to feeling overwhelmed by so many different emotions. One emotion, even if it was blinding rage, he could deal with. But his rage was also met with fear and uncertainty and confusion and nausea and exhaustion.            But the unbridled rage was what he focused on.            “He almost killed you,” Hank breathed, breaking Erik from his reverie. Erik’s eyes snapped up, silently demanding more details.             “I talked to Raven once she had calmed down a bit,” Hank continued. “She gave me the general gist of your conversation.”            “He convinced the physical therapist to leave,” Erik said. “He used his powers to get out of it.”            Hank nodded. When he didn’t say anything, Erik pressed forward.            “What do you mean he almost killed me?”            Hank took a deep breath, looking up. “He wasn’t well, Erik.”            “No shit,” Erik muttered, running a hand across his leg. He could feel a bruise forming along his knee, but his lower back and head felt much worse. “But that…Charles isn’t capable of that.”            Hank returned Erik’s gaze with a tight-lipped smile. “Charles always made sure we were pushing ourselves. But we never stopped to question where his limits were. I think he’s capable of a lot more than we give him credit for.”            “But he isn’t… sloppy,” Erik interjected, his hand swinging in the air vaguely as he tried to find the right words. “He has never harmed anyone in the process. He took complete control of my body. I forgot how to breathe.” Erik looked at the floor, the confession hanging in the air between the two men. The words themselves felt suffocating.            “He was really strung out,” Hank admitted quietly.            That grabbed Erik’s attention.            “What?”            “Erik, he took way more than he should have. I’m surprised he was even able to form a coherent thought. Raven moved the meds to her own bathroom.”            Erik nodded, wincing as pain shot up his neck. “Now what?”            “I wish I knew,” Hank said. “Realistically, he’s acting as anyone in his position would with such a large adjustment. But there’s no handbooks for this stuff with mutants. We can’t just ask him not to medicate.”            “Right now I am not inclined to agree,” Erik grimaced. Maybe he had made the wrong call pulling Charles out of the hospital so soon.            “So, we’re stuck with an impossible scenario,” Hank sighed. “We either ask him to cut back to he can control his telepathy, or we keep him sedated until things improve.”            Erik remained silent. Neither option was good, and moreover, neither was a call that felt like it was his responsibility to make. “Where is Raven?” he asked, avoiding Hank’s statement.            “She went with Alex and Sean to get food,” Hank said.            Erik nodded; he couldn’t blame her for needed to get out of the mansion.            “How long ago was all this?”            “Four hours,” Hank replied. “Wait, what are you doing?”            “Getting a drink,” Erik said, standing up from the bed with a grimace. “I appreciate you staying. I’ll be in the study.”            Apparently Hank knew better than to press Erik, because he simply nodded when the man left.            Despite the fatigue Erik knew he should be feeling, he felt ramped up. He forced himself to take deep breaths as he walked to the study, knowing well that the trek halfway across the mansion would be good for him. He couldn’t lie in that bed anymore, his body practically vibrating with anxiety.            It was funny, that. Erik had always prided himself of being levelheaded during combat. From a young age he had learned to keep his composure when he was under threat. Any visible sign of weakness usually meant more pain. Sure, he was prone to outbursts anger, but anxiety was something he could bite back. He could easily push his fear away in order to focus on a task at hand.            But that didn’t stop it from hitting him full force when the task was done, the mission accomplished, the full repercussions of being close to death finally hitting him full-force in a delayed reaction when his adrenaline wore out.            He turned the corner briskly, hoping that the determination to reach his destination would distract him from the anxiety gnawing at the back of his head.            He hadn’t felt that out of control in a long time. And that scared him. Deeply.            He took one more flight of stairs, trying not to splinter the railing. Physically, he knew he would barely make a dent in the old wood. But mentally, he felt as if he could bring the mansion tumbling town.            Erik took a deep breath as he entered the study, trying not to slam the heavy doors behind him. Really, it was Charles’s study; genetics books lined the walls and a large desk with a typewriter and stacks of papers sat in the corner. Erik stalked over to close the curtains, and then made his way over to the bar cart.            He poured himself a generous amount of whiskey before sitting in one of the armchairs facing the key centerpiece of the room—the chessboard.             He always took dark, while Charles would occupy the opposite chair, choosing white. It had been a funny joke when they had first played, but now the roles seemed automatic and irrefutable. Their chess matches always seemed to accompany a deep discussion on morality. But unlike the cliché connotations, Erik never found that they were forced. He truly enjoyed talking to Charles, teasing out the places they agreed and where they differed.            “Cuba, Russia, America? It makes no difference,” Charles had muttered, interrupting the silence they had been enjoying. “Shaw’s declared war on mankind, on all of us. He has to be stopped.” The telepath finished moving his piece, sitting back for Erik to take the next move.
            “I’m not gonna stop Shaw,” Erik declared. When Charles looked up, Erik elaborated. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Charles had held eye contact, his face unreadable as his mouth twitched. Was it shock? Disapproval? Erik had no way of knowing, but it was clear he wanted to say something.

“Do you have it in you to allow that?” Erik asked, looking up as he took Charles’s rook. It was direct but sincere. Thus far, Erik had no qualms with the man sitting across from him. He had seen a leader and an optimist. But he hadn’t seen a fighter. Truthfully, he had seen no indication that when it came down to the wire, Charles would take action to do what truly needed to be done. They were sitting in a posh study with the fire crackling talking about worldly hypotheticals. Maybe that’s how Charles saw the world—abstract concepts that could be casually pondered about over a drink and chess. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Charles had pulled a pipe from his pocket and started quoting different philosophers about the morality of a greater good.

But similar to the juxtaposition of their colored chess pieces, Erik was not willing to talk in suppositions. He wanted direct action. Honestly, it didn’t matter if Charles disagreed with him. If nothing else, this was simply a warning from Erik about his true intentions. He needed Charles to know that he was serious about this mission. There was one goal.

Charles let out a soft yet sardonic chuckle, shifting in his chair until he was hunched over the board, his elbows on his knees. His eyes remained fixed on the board; Erik couldn’t tell if he was looking for a different move, a different response, or both.

“You’ve known all along why I was here, Charles,” Erik said, watching as the man wrung his hands. It couldn’t have been a surprise.

Surely, Charles had to have come across his thoughts of choking Shaw until his face turned purple, or maybe using metal bars to pull him apart limb from limb. Or maybe to force his coin, the weight currently sitting comfortably in his pocket, through Shaw’s skull until the man collapsed into a heap on the ground. They hadn’t been fleeting images, but rather a film that played behind his eyelids every time he closed them, a reel that had centered him for many years.

Except now it was so much larger than just Erik hunting down Shaw. Shaw had gone from his childhood monster to a man that had the potential to start a nuclear war. This was no longer a one-man vendetta, but a threat that risked exposing their entire kind.

“But things have changed,” Erik continued, finding himself annoyed at being the only one to hold the conversation. “What started as a covert mission…tomorrow, mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won’t differentiate. They’ll fear us.” That seemed to get Charles’s attention, as he looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “And that fear will turn to hatred.”

“Not if we can stop a war,” Charles refuted, hand falling from where it had held his brow. “Not if we can prevent Shaw, not if we risk our lives doing so,” Charles said, characteristic conviction beginning to tinge his voice.

Erik felt the hypocrisy from the scenario envelop him, but it was clear Charles didn’t see it. “Would they do the same for us?”

“We have it in us to be the better men,” Charles countered more forcefully.

“We already are,” Erik insisted. “We’re the next stage of human evolution, you said it yourself--”

“No, no,” Charles interrupted, exhaling through his nostrils, looking away briefly. It was clear Erik had hit a nerve by using the man’s own work against him. Charles could do all the research on mutants he wanted; it meant nothing if he couldn’t see the serious ramifications that the rest of the world would. This wasn’t just some exciting new hypothetical for geneticists to fiddle with. This had real consequences. This was creating a very divide in the definition of ‘man.’

And Erik was all too familiar with watching what divisions could do to people. There was no true equality. There was always a superior and an inferior. In the camps, it had been religion and physical appearance, a war on specific genes that was no different from the dilemma they were currently facing. But not only did some mutants hold a different physical appearance, but many held a distinct physical advantage. This was greater than a personal ideology or the color of one’s eyes and hair; this was information that surely a man of science should see would make them targets of extermination and endless experimentation. He watched irritably as Charles took a gulp on his drink, probably trying to stave off an angry outburst.

“Are you really so naïve as to think that they won’t battle their own extinction?” Erik asked incredulously.

Silence.

“Or is it arrogance?” Erik pressed. Charles’s head snapped up.

“I’m sorry?” It wasn’t really a question. It was an indication of anger and disbelief, shrouded in a façade of civility.

“After tomorrow they’re gonna turn on us. But you’re blind to it, because you believe they’re all like Moira.”

“And you believe they’re all like Shaw,” Charles said pointedly, his voice quiet. Erik tried not to flinch as he heard a soft nudging in his head.
            ‘I’m sorry that you’ve experienced the worst of humanity, but you’re using that as the template rather than the exception.’
            “Listen to me very carefully, my friend,” Charles said out loud slowly, “killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik tried to ignore the slight quiver in Charles’s voice. It was almost…pleading.
             ‘And how would you know?’ Erik shot back mentally. He couldn’t fathom the man in front of him ever being in a similar position; he was a peacemaker, not a killer. Charles’s eyes widened for a microsecond, but nothing else in his body language betrayed him. When Charles purposely remained silent, Erik made one thing very clear.
            “Peace was never an option.” 
            Erik took a deep breath followed by a gulp of whiskey, cherishing the way it burned down his throat as the memory dissipated. He tried to ignore the tremor in his hand, feeling betrayed at his body’s reaction            Deep down, part of him knew he had always underestimated the telepath. But Hank had been right—with the exception of Cerebro, everyone had taken advice from Charles about testing their own limits without truly knowing where his were. Erik didn’t blame them, as he had done just the same in blindly following Charles.             Even without being a telepath, Charles seemed to have a natural gift for reaching deep down into others and drawing out their strengths. He would have made a fantastic teacher (or maybe he already was, Erik wasn’t quite sure what to call his current position.) Over the past year he watched Charles influence each of the children, gently encouraging and challenging them in a way that spoke to some sort of older, wiser soul.            Erik had felt that firsthand on the balcony, when Charles unlocked something that allowed him to move a satellite. Rationally, he knew what it was—a memory of this mother, one he had buried long ago. He always knew it was there, but when Charles drew it forward in his mind, it contained so much more warmth. It was no longer tinged in red like so many of his memories were.            He vaguely remembered Charles saying something about “accessing the brightest memory,” and thanked him while wiping away tears. At the time he couldn’t figure out why Charles was thanking him; it was not as if he had a choice once he had given Charles almost full reign of his head.            Maybe he hadn’t been thanking Erik for the memory in particular. Maybe he had been thanking him for even allowing him access in the first place.            That’s what Charles was—a conductor of light. He was able to take these small fragments of lackluster happiness in others and rearrange it, strengthen it, redirect it until it was a bright orb. And he did it so gently and subtly that you didn’t even have time to question his proficiency. Then again, there wasn’t really a need. Charles never exhibited an ulterior motive, selfish reasoning, or some sort of sick pleasure in cracking others open so that he could paste them back together. It seemed…genuine. And kind.          After his conversation with Raven a few nights ago, Erik was struggling to determine if Charles’s gentle nature was due to lack of life experience and naivety, or something deeper and potentially darker. Until a few nights ago, Erik had never considered that what he first perceived as a mild-mannered academic was really a man who was forced to mature too quickly.            He knew firsthand how being forced to mature at a young age did not make someone wiser. It only made them more bitter.         Erik massaged one of his temples absentmindedly as he finished his drink. His head was still throbbing from Charles’s intrusion mere hours ago, but the whiskey was beginning to dampen his anxiety. He wasn’t sure what he would say to Charles when confronted.           A deep part of him hoped that Charles felt awful, that he had some inkling that was he did was wrong. Normally, the telepath would have felt awful. But the past few weeks had flipped Erik’s view completely upside down.           It had also changed Erik’s perspective on whether the man truly wanted him to leave. Weeks ago in the hospital Charles had seemed…well, comforted wasn’t the correct word. He seemed tolerant of Erik’s presence. At one point, he had even seemed appreciative. It could have been the combination of the drugs lowering his inhibitions and his relative pain, a new low he hadn’t experienced.            Feeling suddenly uneasy, Erik got up from his chair to refill his glass. He only poured half of what he had before, but his eyes trailed to the papers sitting haphazardly on the desk next to the liquor cart. His eyes caught Charles’s distinctive scrawl. It almost looked like a course list, but not of classes he could imagine any school teaching. There were many parts marked out, scribbled over and rewritten. Erik moved the first paper. The second contained similar ramblings.           Oh.            These weren’t Charles’s past graduate classes. Charles wanted to start a school.            Erik felt the comforting presence of metal approach and whipped his head around.            “Snooping isn’t nice, you know,” Charles muttered, rolling himself into the study.            The hairs on Erik’s neck bristled. “And you think you have the right to lecture me after today?”            “Can we just…sit down and talk?” Charles asked, eyes fixed on the ground. For a man usually so self-assured, Charles looked like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.            Erik unclenched his jaw and gave a curt nod. He walked to sit back in his chair, knowing Charles would follow. Without giving it a second thought, he flicked his wrist, using the buttons on the upholstered chair by the board to move it to the side. Charles wheeled to where his normal seat was, and Erik took the opposite chair.            He looked at Charles, whose eyes were still fixed on the ground. His mind was whirling, but he remained silent. He wanted Charles to start, to try to create a defense, to try to find one damn reason that the past few hours had happened. This didn’t feel like an interaction between equals. It felt like a parent waiting for a guilty child to confess, and to be honest, Erik hated it.            “I…” Charles started, but became silent and bit the corner of his mouth. Erik waited as Charles’s eyes moved over the carpet, trying to find words with a knit brow.           “I am deeply sorry,” Charles said eventually, his voice low. “That, back there…that wasn’t me.”            “That’s a poor excuse,” Erik shot back.            “I know,” Charles corrected hurriedly. “I made a selfish mistake that put you, and everyone else in his house, at risk. I know I asked you to leave. I don’t know how much I truly meant it, at the time. But regardless of how I feel now, I completely understand that you’ll want to. I wanted to apologize before you did.”            “I’m not leaving,” Erik responded slowly, “if not simply to keep that from happening again. I have no doubt that if something like that were to ever happen, I am the only one in this house that could take you down. But that can never happen again. You could have killed everyone here.”            Charles nodded.            “Raven hid the meds,” Charles said, almost offhandedly.            “Obviously,” Erik replied. “The question is why did she have to?”            “Because I took too many,” Charles said, looking at Erik quizzically.            “I know that,” Erik responded, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I want to know why.”            “I was in pain. I lost track. Does it even matter?”             “Charles.”            “Are you ever afraid you’re becoming what you fear the most?” Charles’s voice wavered. Erik felt his anger seeping out of his every pore, as it had been for several minutes, but when he met Charles’s eyes, it vanished. The man sitting in front of him not only looked pensive, but genuinely scared.            Erik downed his glass before setting it on the table. "I already am. Well, I am according to you. In trying to avenge murder, I became a murderer. You've told me repeatedly that by trying to stop Shaw, I've become something just as awful, if not something worse."            “You know that’s not what I’m asking,” Charles bit back. “I’m not talking about what others think of you, or even what I think of you. I mean you. Personally.”             "Why bother asking about me when it's clear you're the one struggling with something?" Erik asked.            "Erik, for once, can we not..."            "Can we not what, Charles?" Erik growled. "This? This is how we best communicate, and you damn well know it. Because I cannot get any genuine emotion out of you unless you are high or angry, and today we've had the perfect combination of both. For once in your life, don't think before you speak. No posh and carefully chosen words. This is the most I’ve gotten out of you in weeks and I intended on taking advantage of it.”            “That’s not true in the slightest. I’ve given you…I’ve opened up to you more in these past few weeks than perhaps ever. You just couldn’t see it because it wasn’t an argument. I don’t have to be yelling to be genuine. You just don’t take it seriously.”            “There’s no point if you can just lie your way through anything,” Erik shot back. “Manipulating the truth to suit—"             “For God’s sake, I just need to know that it’s alright for me to struggle with this!” Charles shouted, voice hoarse. Erik fell silent. “I don’t want pity, but I need…I need room. I need room to deal with this. As I’m sure you and Hank have been whispering about, there is no guideline for a telepath losing their legs. There is a deep part of me that wants to be secluded, and I’ve tried that. It didn’t work, as you and Raven are so keen to remind me about.  I want so badly to hide away-- from you, from her, from all the fucking voices in this house…. but I know deeper down that might kill me.” Charles took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I understand my actions earlier were nearly unforgivable. However, I think I have often looked the other way at your many mistakes.”            Erik swallowed, but could still feel himself shaking with rage. Charles was right; however, it did very little to placate his anger.            “You have,” Erik said curtly.            “I’m not asking you to forgive this,” Charles said. “But I’m…I’m asking for patience. I’m asking that you have it in you to overlook when I get short-tempered or exhausted or hurt, at least for now.”            Erik remained silent. He watched as Charles leaned back in his chair slightly and ran a thin hand over his face.            “God, I want a drink,” Charles muttered.            “I think there’s a rule about popping pills and drinking,” Erik replied.            “Never stopped my mother,” Charles said shallowly before instantly realizing his mistake. “Sorry.”            “You never talk about it.”           “About what?”            “Your life here,” Erik said, gesturing around the room. “You know, young Charles and Raven, gallivanting about. Actually, neither of you do.”             “And why do you think that is?” Charles asked.            “There’s a…feeling,” Erik said, rubbing his knuckles across his lips contemplatively, “that people claim to experience when they visit haunted places. Those who have visited war sites, or the camps, have claimed they felt evil there.”            “I didn’t think you believed in that sort of thing,” Charles said.            “I don’t,” Erik quickly replied, shifting in his seat. “But as crazy as it sounds, I can almost feel…the metal,” he said, voice dropping off.             “I’m not following.”            “That’s a first. When I reach out, I can sense whether or not metal has been shaped before. Almost like a willing pliancy. It tells a story. Most metal doesn’t, because it’s purely functional, but…this entire home feels almost cold, unyielding. It’s a good alloy, old and antique, the type most people would kill for. But it’s been here for so long with no changes, just sitting and collecting dust. I am fully aware it sounds ridiculous. Just made me wonder.”            Erik looked up, preparing to be met with an unconvinced stare from Charles.            That expectation was very different from the view before him; Charles’s eyes were red-rimmed, and he was hanging on every word.            “Charles?”            “It’s the first time you’ve called it a home. I’m not sure I ever did,” Charles said, voice soft.            “I’m sorry.”            “No, no, it’s good,” Charles quickly said. “That’s what I wanted. That’s why I wanted to start a school—to make it a proper home. To make it better.”            Erik hummed in agreement. He leaned forward, picking up one of the black rooks from the chessboard to fiddle with.             “Alright.”           “Alright, what?” Charles asked slowly. “I’m not gonna peek in tonight.”            Erik threw him a glare. “Alright to what you were asking. About being patient. It’s not forgiveness for earlier. But I’m afraid that I haven’t…made an effort to help or understand.”             Charles looked up, stunned. “What changed your mind?”            “You,” Erik said simply. “You always are trying to make things better. It infuriates me. I won’t lie, I think it makes you incredibly naïve, and I don’t always agree.  But I realized that I am so accustomed to you sacrificing yourself for the common good, or at least what you believe is the common good, that you being selfish in a moment of weakness simply took me by surprise. I think I’ve forgotten that your natural state is to take horrible things and always make them something better, myself included.”          Charles ran a hand through his hair, trying to blink back the tears filling his eyes. “My friend…”               “I’m not finished,” Erik interrupted. “If I don’t get it all out now, I never will. You are allowed to struggle. You are allowed to doubt. But you are not allowed to repeat today. Mein Gott, Charles, we can’t all read minds. You have to talk to me, or Hank, or Raven. I will not allow you to fall into your mind because you are too stuck up to tell someone that you need something. I think it goes without saying that you can’t have access to the drugs anymore.”            “Of course.”           Erik looked down at the rook in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. He knew what he wanted to ask, but couldn’t find a delicate way.               Then again, Erik had never been very good at being delicate.             “What was the real reason for today?” Erik asked, the words leaving his mouth before he could reel them back in. “Were you really so apprehensive about physical therapy that it caused you to borderline overdose? I think Hank thought you were trying to kill yourself.”            Charles looked away, biting his thumb absentmindedly as his eyes flew to everything in the room except Erik. Erik remained silent. It wasn’t often he had seen the telepath uncertain. His stomach was filled with twisted lead at the chilling thought that maybe Hank was correct.            “It’s not just one thing.”           “You’ve never been one for short explanations,” Erik pressed calmly.            Charles chuckled, swallowing thickly. “It’s, ah…it’s ironic. I know I can’t feel…” Charles cut himself off, drawing in a shaky breath as he rubbed his temple. “It hurts. It really does, my friend. My legs that I’m not supposed to feel, my back and neck and shoulders, and…”            Erik looked up to see tears falling from Charles’s face. He took in the telepath’s trembling composure, wiry hands still digging into his temple. “My head. Someone is digging an ice pick into my skull. It’s worse than Cerebro. I don’t know if it’s physical or if I’m just not mentally strong enough to handle this. I can’t keep swinging between hating you and wanting you to stay. It’s exhausting. What you said earlier about my optimism is only half true.” Charles looked up at Erik, and once again, Erik was pinned with blue piercing eyes he never felt equipped to meet. “I’m not a natural optimist, contrary to what you believe. I try to be. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have made it past twelve. You were right, this house isn’t a happy place for either me or Raven. I don’t enjoy being back. Between that and the beach, I can feel myself slipping and I absolutely abhor it. I just don’t have the energy to simultaneously hope that things have an upside while despising you. Trying to hold two truths at once is debilitating.”            “Especially when both may have merit,” Erik said. “Cognitive dissonance.”            The corner of Charles’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’m impressed you know that.”              “As am I. When you helped me with the satellite, it was the first time I considered that two strong emotions could coexist,” Erik confessed. “Rage and serenity. They seemed mutually exclusive in my mind. You changed that.”            “And now I become the hypocrite that can’t manage either,” Charles muttered bitterly.            “I think you’re allowed that. For now. But in the past year, you have pushed me beyond my limits. I didn’t always appreciate it, but I cannot say it hasn’t made me better. Earlier, Hank and I were discussing how you’ve pushed all of us. I think it’s time we push you back.”            “How?” Charles asked, absently rubbing a hand over his thigh.              “Starting with physical therapy,” Erik said, setting down the rook he had been playing with. “But eventually, when you are strong enough, your telepathy. Today I got a glimpse of something I’ve never seen before, probably for worse. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be for the better. You know where my limits are, but I have no idea where yours are.”            “Neither do I,” Charles admitted softly.            "How?” Erik retorted, sitting up.            “Who would I test on? People don’t even like me peeking around their minds subtly. I can’t run the risk of scrambling someone’s brains for the sake of science or curiosity.”            Erik inhaled sharply. “I guess that does make it difficult. I never thought of that.”              “Of course you did. I accidentally pushed a limit today, and you saw what it did,” Charles said, face paling, “I nearly killed you today.” He looked up, face rapidly turning to horror. “I hurt you. I could have killed you, and I felt it. Oh God, Erik, I…”            “Charles?”            Charles’s face had gone from pale to green rapidly, and he was covering his mouth with one hand, making a vague gesture with his other hand as he hunched over.           “Fuck,” Erik muttered, shooting his hand out, the metal wastebasket by Charles’s desk flying into his hand. He sprang up, all but throwing it into Charles’s lap as the man retched. He found himself gripping Charles’s shoulder, ensuring the unsteady man didn’t tip forward.           When Charles appeared to be done, Erik removed the bin. He rushed over to the liquor cart, pouring a glass of water and bringing it to Charles.            "Thank you,” Charles spluttered, gulping down the water and wincing. “Sorry.”            “It’s alright,” Erik said quietly, squatting by the wheelchair. “I’m not squeamish.”            “I didn’t think so,” Charles said desperately, his voice raspy. “But I meant about this, about earlier, about all of it.”            “I know,” Erik murmured. “It’s fine.” He saw the worry and guilt in Charles’s eyes. An hour ago, he would have relished it. Now he simply felt sick. “It was no worse than what I put you through by making you freeze Shaw.”            Charles nodded unsteadily, perhaps too tired to argue. His entire body was slumped, whether from their conversation, their ordeal hours ago, or even withdrawal.            “You didn’t come in here for a game, did you?” Charles asked tiredly, rapidly changing the subject.            “No,” Erik replied, grimacing as he stood up and his knee ached. “Just to think.”            “Good,” Charles said. “I was afraid you’d be disappointed if I went to bed without beating you in a match.”             Erik looked down at the man in the wheelchair, the man that used to stand so confidently until Erik had landed him there—sunken eyes, malnourished, and exhausted.             He and Charles seemed to hold one similarity tonight; for once, Erik was too tired to be angry. His chest was simply filled with pity, which he flicked away before Charles could sense it.             “My friend,” Erik muttered, walking around to push Charles out in an unspoken agreement, “I have no doubt you would do just that.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“So, what do you think?” Hank asked tentatively, readjusting the glasses that had been rapidly slipping down his nose. “I think it’s quite the undertaking,” Erik replied slowly, flipping through the blueprints with a critical eye. “It will be difficult, but not impossible. Are you sure it will hold?”“Almost,” Hank said. “It’s three floors down; Charles helped me scope out the area. It’s clear, mostly just cement and support beams. We would need more metallic infrastructure, and I still have to do some calculations for the load-bearing beams, but I think it’s possible.”Erik nodded, eyes still scanning critically over the pages. “You are aware that I cannot move cement, correct?”“Well yes, but I figured if it had the proper metallic reinforcement inside you would have a chance. The cement we need is full of rebar.”“I’d need to practice first,” Erik said skeptically. “Depending on the density of the cement, I don’t even know if I’d be able to detect the metal.”“Don’t be ridiculous; of course you could,” a voice interrupted. Erik and Hank quickly turned their heads to see Charles wheeling himself out of the elevator into Hank’s lab. The telepath was wearing sweatpants and an old shirt. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, but he was smiling. “You moved a submarine.” “How was physical therapy?” Hank asked. “The stuff of pure hell,” Charles panted, pulling up to the table where the blueprints were, “but I think I’ll be riding this endorphin high for another twenty minutes or so. After that I’m not so sure.” He looked up at Hank and Erik, eyes bright. “So? Is it doable?”“I’d still need to experiment with the cement blocks,” Erik responded, brow furrowing. “You’re forgetting that a submarine is coated in metal, and it’s a lot easier to detect metal in water than in cement.”“I hardly think a little density will deter you,” Charles said, brushing his damp hair back from where it had been plastered to his forehead. “The real problem will be the compressive strength. The bunker underneath us is stable, but building below it will take much more rebar, and I don’t think we’ll be able to move any infrastructure that’s already down there.”“How are we going to get our hands on all of this?” Hank asked. “We don’t exactly look like the type for home renovation, and I wonder if such a large order will have the CIA sniffing around. Is Moira still keeping tabs on the house?”“No,” Charles said tersely. Erik and Hank shared a brief look, silently agreeing not to go down that road.“Okay,” Hank said slowly. “But how do we move everything here, assuming our permit gets through? We don’t have any sort of truck that could withstand moving so much weight back and forth. They don’t just give those trucks to anyone—you have to have a license and proper training.”“I don’t want to do anything illegal,” Charles affirmed. “But I also cannot risk drawing attention here.”“How much leeway are you willing to give on the legality?” Erik asked. Charles instantly caught the mischievous look in his eye. “Erik, whatever you’re planning…”“Why not Raven?” Erik interrupted. “Say we order everything on the books—no one will question it. But if Raven can assume the identity of a construction man for one day, snag a load-bearing truck to move everything, and return it the next day, we would have no problems.”Charles chewed his lip for a moment. “It could work,” Hank agreed. “We would have to build some direct access from the lowest floor to the ground to move everything, but that could definitely work.”“Only if Raven agrees,” Charles said, looking up at both of them. “I’m not fond of it, but I don’t see another way. We cannot be drawing attention from the CIA.”Erik let out a sharp exhale through his nose, something close to a laugh. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t think the CIA would have any problem with mutants committing a minor crime to build a machine that gives our telepath nearly endless power.” Charles threw a quick glare at Erik before releasing the brake on his wheelchair. “I’ll go ask my darling sister about becoming a large, middle-aged man for a day. Hank, would you walk with me? I have a few more questions regarding the holographic feature.”Erik snickered as Charles and Hank left, looking back at the blueprints for a second Cerebro. Erik wanted so desperately to assume the positive demeanor that Charles held was a shift in the right direction, but pessimism was a nasty parasite. Charles had held through on his promise—the past two weeks the telepath had been busy with physical therapy, the same mousy woman coming to the mansion every day. Her name was Emily, and sure enough, she seemed as every bit good as Carla had said. Of course, Erik had not been privy to any of the physical therapy sessions. While Charles seemed to be taking it in stride, Erik knew there was something deeply intimate and frustrating with the process. As long as Charles continued, he would give the man distance and privacy. Yet that was the problem—Erik wanted to give Charles distance, because as usual, Charles had stuck to his word, exuding positivity where Erik expected more of a struggle. However, it was almost…too much. It seemed like such a petty concern for Erik to raise, but he could not quell the voice in the back of his head that whispered something was wrong.  Charles’s attitude had made a complete reversal. Not only did Charles continue with physical therapy, but spent most of his days huddled over his tentative plans for a school, and collaborating with Hank to build a new Cerebro. Erik wasn’t quite sure what to make of Charles’s plans. The man had asked him to keep it a secret, as he himself wasn’t sure. It seemed a mix between a school and a safe haven, but it was too early in the works to adopt either title. Erik wasn’t sure where that would leave him. Was it assumed that he would stay and help? He had never been very good around children.  And while Erik was sure Charles would be, the telepath wouldn’t be of any use if he pushed himself too hard too quickly. Erik knew there was a very delicate line between progress and over-exertion, and was afraid Charles was dangerously close to crossing it. While the muscle relaxers would be a staple for the next few months, he was towards the end of weaning off his narcotics for the pain.   Raven seemed to share the same concerns but was too pleased with Charles’s progress to outwardly say anything.  When he had made a slight comment to Raven about it, she had simply shrugged. “I don’t know why it seems strange to you. Neither of you does things halfway. He’ll be fine.”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The term ‘flames licking his legs’ did not even apply in this scenario. 
Flames were not delicate; they didn’t lick like a serpent’s forked tongue.

They were powerful, all-consuming, and simply devastating.

There was screaming all around him, and he wasn’t sure if it was those in the room with him, or if they were coming from his mouth, clenched in pain as his face burned.

The flames crept higher, and while he knew he should be afraid, there was a very small part of him that was frozen in place with a sense of tranquility.

His lungs filled with smoke as his vision went hazy, eyes slipping shut as he coughed and coughed and coughed….
Erik sat up with a jolt, instantly grabbing his stomach. He was drenched in sweat, and waves of nausea were rolling through him as his stomach cramped. There was bile sitting in the back of his throat, threatening to rise. He stumbled out of bed, his legs still half-entangled in the sheets as he staggered into the bathroom. But as soon as he hunched over the toilet, the feeling dissipated. He remained frozen for a moment, confused at how such apparent nausea had suddenly disappeared. He carefully stood up, looking at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He was still covered in sweat, but Erik had known his reflection for a long time. He didn’t look ill. He splashed water on his face as the dream came back in bits and pieces. He dried off his face, frowning. Erik had always been prone to nightmares, both when awake and asleep. That wasn’t like any dream he had ever experienced. Fire had never been a common theme. Erik could think of only one explanation. The dream, or rather nightmare, hadn’t been his. Erik changed his drenched shirt, face set. He then exited his room, poking his head out of the door with his ears pricked for any movement. When he heard none, he quietly made his way out of his room and down to Charles’s. He froze for a moment before opening the door. What exactly was he expecting to find? How would Charles react to him checking in on him in the middle of the night? And what exactly would he do, if faced with a telepath potentially in the throes of a violent, fiery nightmare? Steeling himself, Erik quietly opened the door, releasing a sharp exhale when he realized the room was empty. The sheets had been moved to the side, making it clear Charles had gotten up. The bathroom door was open, but the light off. Charles wasn’t here. Taking a deep breath, Erik sent out what he hoped was a message the telepath would be able to hear. He hadn’t had much experience, and felt almost foolish.

Charles?

Below the bunker. 
Erik tried not to shudder as the immediate response rang in his mind, sending a tingle down his spine. He headed towards the elevator, which went down to the level below the bunker—the level that within a few days, would hopefully hold Cerebro. Erik composed himself as the elevator doors opened. He wasn’t shocked to find Charles in his wheelchair, positioned in the middle of the room. Charles said nothing to acknowledge his presence, eyes somewhere distant in the vast room of concrete and exposed metal bars. Perhaps room was the wrong word; it was more of a seemingly endless cement corridor, not dissimilar to Alex’s training bunker. Erik’s eyes focused when he realized that the exposed metal was not neat—parts had been warped, as if melted and then frozen in place. Edges of the cement and cinder block were charred. It finally clicked in his head. Fire. “I haven’t been down here in years,” Charles said quietly, voice hoarse. “I don’t know why, but I still expected it to smell of smoke.”Erik slowly lowered himself to sit on the rough ground a few feet from Charles, the cement cool underneath him. The only light was that shining out of the hallway by the elevator, and his eyes strained to find where the room, or rather vast bunker, ended. “What caused it?”Charles let out a dry chuckle. “An accident, if you can call it that. It used to be Kurt’s laboratory.”“Your father?”“My stepfather,” Charles corrected. “My father was Brian. They worked together, but my own father did most of his lab work in New Mexico. You know, nuclear reactors and all. He died when I was seven.”“I’m sorry,” Erik said quietly, unsure of what else to say.“For what?” Charles asked, although it was clearly rhetorical. “I am too. He was a good man.”“So how does a fire that starts in a basement not manage to bring down the rest of the house?” Erik asked, after a brief moment of silence. “And you still didn’t explain how it started.”“My stepbrother and I got into a fight, and he threw some lab equipment that was not meant to be thrown. Kurt managed to pull us out. He died shortly after. Luckily the lab, the remains of which we are currently sitting on, was completely sealed off, so it didn’t spread to the rest of the house. They had taken precautions to protect the rest of the house, should something explode in the lab. Still not the best design.” Erik had a multitude of questions swimming around in his head, but he couldn’t begin to find a way to phrase them. He still didn’t understand the dynamics of Charles’s childhood, but that felt intentional. Where was his mother? Where was Raven?“Raven was out at the time,” Charles answered quietly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I figured out of the two options, my energy should be focused on not projecting, but you all still think quite loudly. My shields are still under repair.” Erik nodded, reminding himself of the patience he had promised the telepath. He was too focused on the story to be truly upset. “And your mother?”“Oh, she had been dead almost a year before.”Erik stiffened, eventually turning to face Charles. The room was still dark, but he could make out the man’s outline. “How…”“Yes?”“So you grew up without either biological parent?” Erik asked. Charles nodded briefly. “Well, from the age of fourteen when my mother passed. No worse than you. And beyond that I had Kurt and Cain for a few years.”Erik shook his head, a pit forming in his stomach. “I’ve been surrounded by death and senseless violence all my life, and it just made me angry. It nearly drove me to madness. But you have too, and it just made you…”“Tired,” Charles supplied. Erik would have chosen a much different word. Kind, perhaps. “I think…” Charles shifted in his chair, contemplating his next words. “I am aware that you and Raven share closer ideologies than I do regarding mutants and our relationship with the rest of the world. Raven thinks I want her to hide, ‘mutant and proud’ and all of that. It couldn’t be farther from the truth. I don’t want anyone to hide. I don’t want any future mutants to feel that fear and shame. But I am all too sensitive to the realities we face if we are out in the open, especially without government support or any sort of pretense.”“And where was she in all of this?” Erik asked, steering the conversation back to his original question. “With your stepfather and your mother, where was Raven?”“She was there,” Charles said slowly, “but she had to hide. I think that’s why she resents me.”“I doubt she resents you for taking her in,” Erik retorted. “She has never given me that impression.”“Ah, but you didn’t grow up with her. I don’t think she resents me for taking her in; I think she might have been afraid of how I achieved it.” Charles looked at Erik, eyes searching in the dimness. “I would have never let her stay if I thought she was in danger.”“Was she?”“I assured she wasn’t,” Charles replied cryptically. “How?”Charles hesitated. “It’s a complicated answer.” “I have time.”“You do realize you chastise me for my long speeches, even after I’ve given you fair warning?” “Charles.”Charles shifted in his chair, avoiding Erik’s intense gaze. “It’s not a long story per say…It’s more difficult to describe. I was so young, I’m not even sure how I achieved it. In hindsight, it all seems so sloppy. You asked me about the full range of my powers. I think the furthest I’ve pushed myself, with the exception of Shaw or Cerebro, was bringing her into his house—both physically and mentally. I still didn’t understand my full range at that point; my work was crude and foolish. I’m not proud of it.”“You have seen the worst in me,” Erik said bluntly. It no longer embarrassed him, to have Charles see into the deep recesses of his mind. He had already seen everything. “And while you may disagree, I still do not think I’ve seen the worst of you. See it as practice, before Cerebro is actually built.”“You really want me back in there?” Charles scoffed, eyes pointed at Erik’s forehead. The breach of trust from the previous week was still salient in both of their minds.Erik felt a twinge deep in his gut, but pushed forward, not wanting Charles to feel his hesitancy. “Yes.”“My friend, you are not as good a liar as I thought,” Charles laughed shallowly. “And you’ve proven to be a better one than I ever took you for,” Erik said evenly. “If nothing else, I can say I hold the same leverage over you that you have of me.” Charles remained silent for moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Help me down?”Erik stood up, simultaneously flicking his wrist to set the brake on Charles’s chair. He lifted Charles from his chair and set him against the cool cement wall, a pang of guilt hitting him as he heard Charles exhale sharply. “Just sore,” Charles said, grunting as he rearranged his limp legs. Charles patted the cement floor next to him, and Erik wordlessly sat down facing him.“Proximity gives me more control,” Charles said quietly between a few deep exhales. He searched Erik’s eyes for any sign of hesitancy, hands twitching at his sides. “Are you…”Erik moved Charles’s hands to his temples, taking note of the calluses on the man’s hands that were beginning to rival his own. “This doesn’t feel dissimilar to me holding a gun to your head,” Charles chuckled, but the end came out humorless. “But this time I’m trusting and testing you, and not the other way around,” Erik said, trying to push forward feelings of confidence. If Charles could sense it, he gave no indication. Charles took another deep breath, steeling himself as he shut his eyes. “If it gets too much, just…you need to tell me.”“Are you really suggesting a safeword?” Erik chuckled, trying to diffuse the tension he could feel radiating off of Charles. They were sitting inches apart, Charles’s hands feather-light on Erik’s temples, as if he were afraid of contact. Charles opened his eyes desperately. “This isn’t a joke. If you think I invaded your privacy last week, you are sorely mistaken. What I did as a child…you won’t…it pales in comparison.”“Doubtful.” Charles’s pupils moved back and forth as he searched Erik’s eyes; what he was looking for, Erik wasn’t sure. It almost looked like an apology. That was all it took before Erik felt a wisp of smoke begin to unfurl in his mind, and was jerked somewhere else.
He opened his eyes, and he was sitting in an attic, lights low. There were two children huddled in blankets. One was blue, red hair distinctively slicked back with most of her body wrapped in an old afghan as she nibbled on crackers. The other child was unmistakable.

Brunette hair with streaks of blonde, dressed in blue pajamas that were too large for his young frame. Eyes sparkling and a smile never leaving his face.

Charles.

“Are you sure I can stay? No one will be mad?”

“Of course not,” Charles said reassuringly, smiling. “But I don’t want to scare them.”

Young Raven’s eyes widened, and she hung her head.

“No, no,” Young Charles said quickly, gripping her shoulders through the blanket. “I didn’t mean that. You are so, so beautiful. Scare wasn’t the right word. I simply don’t want to startle them because there’s suddenly a new person in the house. But I can fix it.”

“How?”

“If I ask them, they can’t say no. You aren’t alone—you can turn blue, which I’m desperately jealous of. But I can get into people’s heads. I don’t want to be mean, but if you can stay up here for a few days, it will give me time to convince them. I can bring you food and toys. I swear I won’t forget you’re up here. After this, you will never need to hide again, I promise. Is that…is that okay? We can make it a game.”

“Sure,” Raven said, spirits lifted. “I’ll be really quiet up here.”

Charles’s eyes became downcast as he reached to a corner of the attic wall.  “I’m sorry, I don’t have any girl toys. But I have little soldiers---”

“Awesome!” Raven exclaimed, interrupting Charles and reaching for the small green army men as if they were made of pure gold. Charles smiled, and crouched back down next to Raven, content.

Erik wasn’t even sure if he had a physical form, but he felt vertigo in his stomach as the next memory surfaced.

It was the same Charles, young and donned in dress pants and a vest, creeping over to a woman slumped on the couch. She had curled blonde hair, skin pulled too tightly over her face, and mascara smudged around her eyes, inseparable from the dark bags beneath them. She might have been beautiful, if not given the current circumstances. Charles gently touched one hand to his temple and the other to her forehead, freezing as she stirred. Her eyes opened to half lids. Erik could see her gaze—she was staring directly at Charles, but her eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, almost as if she was really seeing just beyond his ear. They remained open for a moment before slipping shut again. Erik could smell the spirits on her breath as she sighed, readjusting herself in her sleep. Young Charles pinched his eyes shut, pulling up memories from the drunk woman and infusing them with his own voice.

Raven has always been here.

Erik tried not to gasp as he saw Charles’ flitting through the woman’s memories, muttering to himself and in her head. Each memory was altered by Charles, like an artist adding final touches to a painting. A small bundle wrapped in pink was stitched into the woman’s memory of a past hospital visit, engraining itself particle by particle, created from young’s Charles’s command, mental voice shaky but determined.

Raven is my daughter. She is three years younger than Charles. Raven was, and always has, been there.

Erik watched mesmerized as Charles went through Sharon’s recollections like a Rolodex, watching a memory from within a memory, in a mesmerizing display of power that made him almost lose himself. Soon Raven had been engrained into smaller memories—a family trip to the beach included a small girl in a sundress, Raven out playing with Charles….

He was dragged out of the woman’s mind by booming steps and a large hand that made Charles’s mind, and Erik’s in turn, shudder.

Before Erik could protest, he was whisked away as if grabbed by the collar, and the old scene was replaced with mist as a new one surfaced.

A knee in the gut from a boy much larger than Charles, but as Charles coughed and put his arms up to defend himself, he let his fingers skim his temple.

I am Cain. Charles is my step—

Another kick.

Raven is my stepsister. She has always been. I won’t hurt her. She is nice. I won’t hurt her.

Flecks of blood began to adorn the carpet as Charles coughed and coughed, trying to hold onto the mental command as dots swam in his vision. With a final burst of energy that made Erik shudder, he heard a reverberating command.

Go to sleep!

The larger boy instantly stopped, knees crumpling beneath him as he hit the floor. Charles hurriedly uncurled from his defensive position, running a scrawny hand across his bloody nose as he crawled over to Cain, placing a tentative ear near the larger boy’s mouth.

He was still breathing.

Charles doesn’t remember how he made it back to the attic. He huddled under the blankets as Raven raised her head.

“I’m so glad you’re back, I thought you forgot…Charles, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Charles smiled unconvincingly, each additional movement sending a shiver up his spine. “Cain beat me in football. It was an accident.”

“Can I come out now?” Raven asked eagerly, eyeing the attic. “Did they say yes? It’s been foreeeeever.”

“Only two more days,” Charles responded while his lungs ached. “And it’s only been 4 days, not forever, silly goose.” He made a motion to get up as a young, blue arm shot back out at his.

“Can you stay with me? There are scary noises up here.” Raven’s voice seemed impossibly small, containing a vulnerability Erik had never heard from her.

“Of course,” Charles said, stifling a groan as he settled back into the blanket nest. His head throbbed. Raven wrapped her arms around Charles’s neck, nearly instantly falling asleep.

Erik wasn’t sure where he was at this point—he didn’t know if he was in the telepath’s mind or his own.

Time must have passed, because suddenly they all appeared slightly older, maybe thirteen-- Raven in a human form with blonde hair, with Charles, Cain, Kurt, and Sharon seated around a large table that felt anything but comforting.

“Drunk whore,” Kurt muttered, cutting a piece of meat a little too aggressively. At the other side of the table, the woman was nearly passed out, head bobbing as she tried to stay awake. “God, what an embarrassment. Drugged out of her goddamn mind.”

“Because Cain isn’t high as a kite right now either,” Raven muttered sarcastically, nearly stabbing her food.

Kurt placed his silverware down, a tendon in his jaw flexing as he stood up. “What did you—”

Suddenly Charles leapt up, as everyone else remained frozen.

She’s not there. Raven didn’t come to dinner tonight. You do not see Raven. I made you mad. Raven is not here; she is at a friend’s.

Raven’s eyes widened as Charles’s psychic hold on everyone was released, Kurt suddenly lunging at Charles rather than Raven.

Erik thrust out a hand as the scene was whisked away, just as Kurt’s ugly palms were making contact with Charles’s neck.

Erik, or whatever was left of him, became nauseous as more and more scenes whisked by, an acceleration that mimicked the centripetal force of the planets as he tried to hold onto the clips that were disappearing just as quickly as they came.

Charles, no older than fourteen, lying on his side on top of his bed in a dark suit, arm in a cast as he stared blankly at the wall ahead; teenage Raven in a black dress curling up behind him on the bed, wrapping her arm around his waist as she spoke softly in his ear.

“It’s okay to be upset. She was your mother.”

“Mentally, she’s been dead for years,” Charles said hollowly, red-rimmed gaze still pinned to the blank wall.

“That doesn’t make it any less painful,” Raven whispered, absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. Charles became confused when tears he didn’t truly feel sprung to his eyes. Raven only tightened her grip.

Charles later that year, drained after trying to rewrite Kurt and Cain’s memories that of course Raven hadn’t flashed blue when she was scared after dropping a plate, she hadn’t really been there that night, she had been at study group, it was merely a figment of the light….

Erik forced himself to keep his eyes open as a dizzying array of clips flashed before him, a movie reel spliced out of order. They were mere snippets now, a film roll beginning to burn up.

Charles at ten, barely able to keep his head up after the family doctor had shoved lithium down his throat. The housekeeper had run down the hall screaming about possession after he answered a question she hadn’t asked out loud. Charles couldn’t decide if the shrink was better than a priest might have been.

Charles at fourteen, shuddering when he heard Kurt remove his belt, but reminding himself how much more terrified Cain was.

Charles at twelve, pointing out different constellations to Raven, her head on his shoulder as he explained how those stars had died millions of years ago just for the two of them to see, what a comforting thought.

Charles at seven, vague flashes of his once-happy mother nearly unresponsive, unable to leave bed for days and he couldn’t figure out where his father had gone.

Charles at seventeen, clutching his head in a dirty alleyway with hot tears streaming down his face as Raven tried to calm him down because why did he think he could go to a bar? He had learned early enough how overwhelming the drunk psyche could be, let alone fifty of them crowded into a small uni pub.

Charles at thirteen, slipping a handful of his mother’s sleeping pills into his pajama pocket because the lies were even harder to keep up with when voices constantly whispered in the back of his head, and he wasn’t sure what voices were his, what voices were others’, and what voices might actually be demons. He just wanted one night of sleep.

Charles at eleven, head spinning with glee when he realized he wasn’t alone, wasn’t afraid, wasn’t a freak because he had found someone just as beautiful with scales and red hair and a smile that cured a week of bruises.

Charles at fifteen, flames threating to overcome both he and Cain, almost cursing when Kurt pulled them out, because maybe Charles Xavier was doomed from the start. Let the mansion burn, and him burn up with it. But then he met Raven’s eyes outside as she rushed to his smoke-covered coughing form, and he was home again.

Charles at sixteen as he grabbed Raven, a suitcase, and headed off to Oxford with a weary smile, a head full of hope and DNA helices. 
Erik gasped as he felt the mist dissipate; he was up and pacing before he realized what he was doing, hand grappling his chest as he tried to catch his breath. The walls were closing in and bile was rapidly rising up his throat, and he could practically feel the sunspots from the burning memory reel every time he closed his eyes, the ground swaying beneath his feet. “I’m sorry, that was a bit further than I meant to go.” The telepath’s words were muffled underneath the blood rushing in Erik’s ears as he paced anxiously around the dark, empty room that seemed to be getting smaller by the second. “Erik, maybe you need to sit down. Head between your knees and all that.” Erik continued his senseless circles, trying frantically to catch his breath. Nausea was rolling off of him in bitter waves, and he had to breathe deeply through his nostrils to try to gain any semblance of control back. After a minute, the rushing in his ears subsided, but his pacing did not, even as the corridor began to cease its spinning.  “Say something,” Charles said cautiously, voice soft as if approaching a cornered animal. “You’re worrying me, stalking around like you’re contemplating murder.”“I am,” Erik spat, the response coming out harsher than he had meant as it reverberated off the concrete walls. “It’s a good thing your stepfather ended up dying, or…”“Or nothing. I didn’t mean to show you all of that,” Charles said quietly. “My control is still shaky, and that period of my life is pretty blended together. That wasn’t the point of…”“It doesn’t matter,” Erik growled, clenching his fists. “You’re right, I am furious. This rage, it…”“Isn’t necessary,” Charles interrupted evenly. “It was a long time ago. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”“Are you serious?” Erik asked, whipping around. “This is coming from you, the high priest of ‘let’s all sit around and talk about our feelings.’ I’m furious because you are Charles, and you were a fucking child, and you aren’t supposed to…”You aren’t supposed to carry that around, Erik’s mind instantly supplied, hands falling at his sides. You weren’t supposed to go through that. The same could be said for you, my friend, Charles responded, his voice gentle in Erik’s overstimulated mind. “Erik,” Charles continued out loud, eyeing where Erik’s fists were still clenched at his sides, “It was so long ago. If nothing else, for my sake, can we…” Charles’s voice fell off, and Erik was hit with another wave of queasiness. Erik shakily made his way to sit beside Charles, careful to keep a few feet of space between them. “I’m assuming the nausea is you?”Charles sat confused for a moment before his face fell. “I’m so sorry my friend, I didn’t realize I was projecting that.”“Why else do you think I was up at this hour?” Erik responded.  “Damn,” Charles said, running a hand over his face. “Withdrawal is a nasty beast. I’m over the sweating, but the thought of food still makes me sick. If you could feel it, I’ll assume the others did too. Hopefully they sleep more soundly than you do. Maybe we can blame the boys’ cooking.”“And here I was thinking you would take the high ground,” Erik retorted, humor lacing his voice. It only took a few seconds of silence before he found himself frowning again. He dragged his fingers along the rough concrete floor, unable to purge the images he had seen mere minutes ago. “How much does Raven know?” Erik asked quietly, his voice resuming its serious tone.  “When we were younger she didn’t really understand,” Charles began. “Probably assumed Kurt had a moral code about not hitting women. But she also didn’t see a lot of it. As we got older she began to understand what I was doing—my great magic trick, making her disappear. That dinner that you saw was when she really realized. She was furious at me after that, spouting off about how she could fight her own battles. But I couldn’t bring her into a home where she would…well, it’s not what she signed up for. It’s not as though I was still making her hide in the attic; I just ensured that neither Kurt nor Cain could see her at specific moments.”Charles’s voice had been steady for the past few minutes, but it began to tremble faintly as he swallowed.  “I don’t think I was in the wrong in that. I think she’s upset I never gave her the choice, or asked her permission. Even if I had to go back and could do it over, I wouldn’t change my decision. I don’t care if she was upset with me. I know how you see her now and I’m proud of how she’s grown. But back then, she seemed so small to me, even if we aren’t that dissimilar in age.  I couldn’t let them…” Charles’s voice fell off. “No,” Erik responded strongly. “I would have done the same.” He stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating his next words. “So even at that young age, you could change memories?”“Barely,” Charles admitted, brows furrowed in hesitation. “I was sloppy, and I shudder to think of the damage I might have caused. There were always moments when it faltered, but by the age of fourteen everything seemed to hold in place. And it wasn’t so much change as just altering such small details. To be quite honest, I’m not sure how successful I actually was with my mother. Her mind was already addled; it barely took a nudge. That’s why Cain and Kurt were more difficult to convince in the beginning. I started hearing things at around nine, but hadn’t really connected the dots until about twelve. But yes, even then I had the ability.”“And you haven’t tried anything further? You’ve shown you can change memories, and halt the perception of time for some, and we both saw your ability to…well, force me walk out of the room…but you haven’t tried anything else?”“With the exception of Cerebro, no. Can you blame me? There isn’t exactly a queue of volunteers.”“In the moment, I suppose not,” Erik conceded, looking at Charles. Even in the dark lighting, Charles returned his glance. “What?”“I’ve misjudged you,” Erik said. Charles sighed. “You’ve known me for some time. Those snippets can’t have changed your perception of me that much.”“Not in the way you’d think,” Erik said. “Your sense of fashion has always been atrocious. I’m simply astonished that you survived and turned out the way you did.”  “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, the same applies to you.”Erik pursed his lips, unable to find a response. It wasn’t the same. “I think once we have Cerebro built, I’m going to tell the others about the school.”That caused Erik to look back at the telepath. “You’re really serious about this.”“I think so,” Charles responded. “A safe haven, primarily. But I hardly think I can just invite children here without giving them some sort of education or purpose. Certainly not to build an army.”“And how are you going to recruit, for my lack of a better word?” “Cerebro,” Charles replied. “And then go to their homes, talk to their parents. Maybe it would be easier to start at foster homes, advertise it as a sort of boarding school. Regardless, the first step is to ensure we have the proper facilities, proper staff.”“Who? Surely not normal teachers?”“No, actually…I was thinking some of the children already here.” “Not children,” Erik immediately corrected. “Right,” Charles conceded. “Although you have to admit, looking at them, they really are. I understand that they’ve all matured a great deal, especially after Cuba. I don’t mean to patronize them. But when I look at them, it’s all I can see. Children needing direction—the direction I wish I had as a child, as well as Raven, and I assume yourself.”Erik nodded. “Well, you effectively helped kill my only teacher, and I’m indebted to you for that. Not to get sentimental, but I often wonder….”“What?”“I wonder how my life would have been different if I had someone like you as a teacher,” Erik said quietly. “You taught me so much in such a short time. And if I had that at a younger age…or if you had…”“Don’t get sappy on me,” Charles interrupted, but his voice cracked towards the end. Erik was almost sure if he had been closer, he might have seen watery eyes from the telepath. The moment was interrupted as Charles’s wrist watch went off, beeping loudly. “Bugger,” Charles muttered, pressing the side of the device. “It’s already six. Might as well get started for the day. We certainly have a lot to review with the others before tomorrow.”Erik sighed, propelling himself up to his feet. “I suppose. At least I’ll get the first pot of coffee before Sean butchers it.”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Alright,” Charles said, making slow eye contact with everyone around the kitchen table, “we need to be very clear about this, sure of every step. There is no room for error. Hank, what’s first?”Hank, who had blueprints covering the table, reached for his notebook. “First step was to place the order for the materials, which has already been done.” Charles sat back a bit, clearly surprised. “Really?”Hank’s face flushed. “I called them the second you approved the plan.”“It’s a go for Cerebro two-point-oh,” Sean mimicked quietly, ducking his head when Erik glared. “How?”“I may have uh….well, when I was first building in the lab, the CIA gave me a separate name and ‘company’ to order supplies under. Obviously, the funds from that have been cut, and we don’t want them tracking us, so I’m not using the same credentials.  But it gave me an idea to create my own. No one questions that I’m an undergrad in charge of a lab.” “There’s a difference between ordering eggs to break and hundreds of pounds of rebar,” Erik said warily. “It’s a big company, they really don’t think twice about it,” Hank said. “I’m just the lab assistant in charge of ordering supplies. This company ships to hundreds of universities and labs; it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s such a large establishment that they said the materials will be in the freight yard tomorrow.” “Well done then,” Charles said. “Next will be transportation.” “We might need you for that one,” Hank said, hesitation lacing his words. “I already have the name and information of the man who is supposed to drop off the materials. I can make something to knock him out while Raven imitates him, but that doesn’t solve the problem that he should actually have a memory of delivering the materials.” Erik could practically see the gears churning furiously in Charles’s head at the unspoken insinuation. “Fine. And where exactly are we supposed to keep him while all of this is going on?”“The car,” Alex said. “We figure we lure him out into the lot to help us lift something into the car, where bozo can hit him with whatever drug will knock him out for a bit. Raven can shift, and walk back into the building imitating him. We keep him in the car knocked out for a few hours while we move everything, and once we’re done, he can walk back in convinced he made the drop off.” “Still too sloppy,” Charles replied. “So I’ll be in the car with…”“Me,” Sean piped. “You, me, and the carrier dude can drive around for a bit. Raven and Erik will be in the same car to get there, but they both come back in the 18-wheeler that’s carrying everything. Hank and Alex will stay here.”“I figured we would need easy access to the basement, so I can blast a tunnel through the ground and clean up any old rebar down there. Hank can…do whatever it is he’s doing with all those blueprints.” “What exactly are you knocking carrier man out with?” Raven asked, turning to Hank. “Not carrier man--Thomas Phillips, goes by Tom,” Hank corrected. “And I have liquid lorazepam. It’s not difficult to synthesize, but someone has to inject it.” His eyes flew to Erik before ducking back down.Erik realized everyone was looking at him. “What?”“Well, you are the one that could theoretically make a syringe fly through the air,” Alex said. Sean nodded in agreement, shuddering slightly at the thought.  “Jesus,” Erik muttered into his cup of coffee, “Ich bin von Weichei umgeben.” “So I can’t call them children, but you can call them sissies?” Charles chided mentally, his stoicism breached by a small smirk. “They do have a point,” Charles verbalized, clearing his throat. “There’s no need for ‘syringe flying through the air’ theatrics exactly, but I think you’d manage it better than any of us.”“Fine,” Erik rumbled. “And where am I supposed to be in all this? I can’t exactly step into the freight truck with Raven.”“Aren’t you the king of stealth?” Raven asked. “If you can find somewhere to wait outside the freight yard, I can pick you up. I think I can manage the truck just fine, but I prefer to have someone that could keep everything from potentially falling off onto the highway, should things go south.”“I agree,” Charles chimed. “Hank, what time is the delivery truck supposed to leave the yard?”“Eleven AM,” Hank responded. “I think it would be wise to leave here tomorrow at nine-thirty.”There were collective nods around the table, as everyone sipped their coffee. “Can I ask the obvious?” Alex probed, setting his elbows on the table. “Once we have this Cerebro…what are we doing with it? It’s not like the CIA needs another mutant team.”Erik’s eyes flitted to Charles, who sat back a bit. “No, they certainly do not. I think,” Charles continued slowly, “that I would like for this place to become a school.” Everyone was silent, either contemplating the theory, or waiting for Charles to continue. “I say school, but I’m not even sure if that’s the correct, or even possible, term. I think there should be somewhere for young mutants to feel safe, to learn what they need without discrimination.”“Woah,” Sean breached. Everyone else was still silent. “Well, yes,” Charles agreed, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “Not that it’s a certainty in any respect. There would still be a long, long ways to go. It’s simply an idea. And seeing as you all are living here, you absolutely have a say. Regardless of whether or not the school becomes a reality, I still think it would be helpful to have a Cerebro. Cuba left us in a very uncertain position. If anyone has an urge to come to the house with malicious intent, I would like to know. I don’t need a definitive answer, because I’m not still sure myself. But it is an important thing to discuss, if you all plan on staying, which you are more than welcome to.”“I am,” Sean said confidently. He seemed the only one willing to speak, but Erik could tell Charles was grateful. “As long as it means I get to push some other kid off a satellite.” “Oh, um…well, we’ll discuss that if the time ever arises,” Charles said. He looked up expectedly at the others.“Are you kidding?” Hank asked sheepishly. “This is the dream—a high-tech lab, with mutant genes to work with?  It makes the CIA look like a middle school science classroom.”“You got me out of prison,” Alex added, “and I’ve got nothing better to do. I do have a younger brother though, but he’ll be fine with my folks…unless he starts shooting lasers out of his ass too.” Erik looked at Raven, who had been staring into her coffee mug. Hank’s words from a few weeks ago still remained sharp in his mind. 
“Raven wanted to leave with you. She aligns herself more with your position…now that’s changed. I never thought anything would draw her away from Charles. I think she’s realized that this is what your path brings—violence in the midst of battle doesn’t discriminate.” 
At this point, Erik wasn’t sure if it was truly because she aligned herself with Erik’s view, or if she just wanted to break free from her life with Charles. “I’m staying, at least for a while,” Raven said. “But I won’t teach. I’ve heard enough of Charles’s theses to know I wasn’t made for the academic scene.”Charles chucked, but it wasn’t difficult to see the relief washing over his features. “Of course. And you?”“I’m here as long as you’ll have me,” Erik said, meeting Charles’s gaze. “Besides, the elevator wasn’t the only part of this mansion that needs updating. I can’t teach anything, but I’m cheaper than a handyman.” “Excellent.”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Here, I’ll open the trunk,” Erik said, leading Tom around the back of the old Volvo, where the man was wheeling a cart holding few wooden planks. Erik mentally felt for the metal-capped syringe in his breast pocket, slowly urging the cap off as Tom bent over to place the planks in the car. Raven, Charles, and Sean were all seated inside, Sean’s eyes watching from the rearview mirror. “Make sure you cure these after staining if they’re going outside,” Tom said, loading the planks in the back with calloused hands. He was a large, middle-aged man wearing old denim and a ballcap—he looked like someone Erik would have trusted at a hardware store, had be truly not known anything about construction. “It’s good quality wood, but the winters here can really wear it down.”“I’ll keep that in mind,” Erik said, eying the area where Tom’s shirt had ridden up, a small patch of skin on his lower right side exposed. After taking a deep breath, Erik flicked his wrist and the small syringe flew forward, where it stopped, the edge of the needle pressing just against Tom’s skin.But it wasn’t piercing. Erik flexed his hand, but instantly noticed that Tom’s skin beneath the needle was beginning to take on a scaly appearance, still resisting. The texture of his skin looked familiar somehow, but Erik didn’t have time to place it, panic beginning to seep into the fringes of his mind. “Scheisse,” Erik muttered, just as Tom’s hand grappled his back and he turned around. The syringe clattered against the asphalt, shattering.    “What the hell!” Tom yelled gruffly, looking down at the broken glass.  “Charles!” Erik exclaimed, taking a step backwards where Tom was lunging towards him.  “I’m not sure if I can…” Charles started from the car, whipping his upper body around to face the open trunk.  “Just do it!” Erik yelled, stumbling backwards in an effort to avoid the larger man. He was mentally cataloging Tom’s clothing, looking for any sort of metal to restrain him with.  “Go to sleep!”  Instantaneously, Tom’s eyes rolled backwards, and Erik leapt up to catch him before he faceplanted. Raven and Sean rushed out of the car, opening the door to haul the man into the backseat. Charles was also in the back seat, fingers against his temple and his eyes squeezed shut.  “What the…” Sean started, before Charles cut him off sharply, eyes tightly closed.  “Hush, give me a moment.”  After a minute of tense silence, Charles opened his eyes, releasing a breath he had been holding as his hand fell from his temple.  “What was that?” Raven asked, eyes wide as she turned to Erik. “What happened?” “I don’t know,” Erik admitted. “He was one of us, his skin was…” “Like Darwin,” Charles supplied. “His mind wasn’t easy either. He’s literally tough, both his exterior and psyche. You all will need to hurry; I have no idea how long I can keep him under. If he regains even the slightest bit of consciousness, it will be even harder to put him back down.” Raven gave a terse nod and her blue scales rippled, imitating the man currently passed out in the car. She reached into Tom’s pocket, snagging a hefty keychain. She slid by Erik, grabbing the cart Tom had carried the wooden planks out in.  “Erik, I’ll stall for a minute just outside the freight yard,” she said, but her voice came out much deeper, almost comical. She threw a look at Sean and Charles. “See you on the other side.”  “Are we good here?” Erik asked Sean and Charles, skeptically eyeing where Tom was out cold.  “We’re good,” Sean replied, moving to the driver’s position. “I brought sunglasses and a hat to throw on him while we’re driving around, you know…to avoid suspicion.” “Smart,” Erik muttered sarcastically. “Charles?” “We’re good,” Charles said distractedly. It was clear half of his mind was occupied monitoring Tom, although Erik had a sneaking suspicion that he would be out longer than Charles gave himself credit for. “Let’s try to keep it under two hours if possible?” Erik nodded, and turned to walk out of the parking lot around the back of the building.  “So,” Sean started, “what do we do now?” “Just drive around I suppose,” Charles said. “Nothing too fast though.” “You got it prof,” Sean replied. Charles gave a slight inhale as the car jerked from its parked position, fingers immediately seeking his temple. After assuring Tom was still out, he lowered his hand, glancing out the window.  “Sooo is this is a situation where I have to be quiet the whole time while you concentrate?” Sean ventured, glancing in the rear-view mirror.  “No, I think we’re alright for now. I’m not currently inhabiting his mind, just monitoring the surface of his consciousness. Kind of like glancing through the oven window without opening it, I suppose.  “Cool.” “Is there something specific on your mind?” Charles asked, smiling a little at his own phrasing.  “I don’t know,” Sean said, turning onto a larger road. “I just think it’s cool…this whole school thing you want to set up. I want to stay.” “I’m glad to hear it.” “I was never very good at school,” Sean admitted. “I, uh, lied to you. When you recruited me. I told you I had just graduated. I never did.” “I know,” Charles said, voice soft. “Well, I knew you were lying, just not about how much.” “I was a junior,” Sean replied. “I didn’t know if I would have graduated, even if I had gotten a chance at senior year. Physics always made a lot of sense to me, but that’s about it.”  “Bad teachers?” Charles asked.  “No, my teachers were pretty good. I’m just a slow reader—I started late, and by that point everyone could read ten times faster than me. I am interested in some learning, but it becomes a lot less enjoyable when it takes you two hours to get through a chapter.”  “Were you ever tested for dyslexia?” Charles ventured casually.  “Nope,” Sean said, popping his lips. “That kind of stuff was always dismissed as psychobabble, and excuse for kids that didn’t try. I just had to try harder.” “I can assure you, it isn’t psychobabble,” Charles replied, glancing at Tom. “It is a legitimate learning disability. And it certainly isn’t to say you are lesser than others or that you were doing something wrong. It would be the same as blaming someone with a heart condition for not sprinting. I think we’re on the brink of something great—where it is being recognized that the mind and body are more connected than we think.  It’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of. But if you were to stay, I would love to explore it more with you. Not to sound cocky, but I think I might be able to help…discretely, of course.” “Thanks prof,” Sean said, sounding hopeful. “I think it would be cool to try, once everything settles down. The last thing I need is a new nickname from Alex.” “I think Alex has enough to worry about,” Charles said. “After all, we did pull him from solitary confinement, and the guard said he actually preferred it. Not sure if that was Alex’s way of ensuring the safety of other prisoners, or if he actually prefers the silence. Either way, it would be quite the change if this house does become inhabited with children.” “I look forward to it,” Sean said. He was silent for a moment. “Hey, do you think a drive-through would notice the passed-out dude in the back?”