The Doors They Opened

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When God closes one door, he opens another. Or he opens a window. Something like that. Charles had heard it both ways, but either way, he'd always believed it. The doors to his step-father, his step-brother...if they had ever been open they had quickly been slammed shut. But then another door had opened, and it had led him to Raven, or Raven to him...and having someone to call sister who was different, like he was...that was the best thing he could have asked for instead.

Charles had believed it again the day he'd met Erik Lehnsherr—when he was just short of believing all hope to be lost, all other doors closed. He'd believed it so strongly that it had kept him going this long, but now...

Now he was cold and exhausted and hurting, and it was dark, and the chilly concrete biting into his back wasn't helping. Neither were Erik's angry eyes, boring into him as the taller man kept him shoved against the barrier at the edge of the yard—as much as it could be a yard when it was made up only of reinforced concrete and steel wire. Erik's hands were clamped around Charles's upper arms, bruisingly tight as he shook him, and Charles's head banged back into the concrete but he had no energy to resist. He couldn't stop Erik, physically or telepathically, even if he'd wanted to. He could barely fathom the strength to reach out to Erik's mind at all.

Erik, my friend, this is not you. You know the truth. You know...

Erik backhanded him viciously. "Get out of my head!"

He managed not to cry out, and he swallowed hard. "Please, my friend, remember—"

"I'm not your friend!" Erik punched him this time, and Charles's head snapped back into the wall much harder this time. Everything went dark for a brief moment, but then he was back and Erik was still shouting. "Why are you in my head? Why do you look at me like that? Why are you always in my head! I don't know you!"

Charles swallowed back the blood in his mouth; trying spit it out would not be a good idea right now, with Erik this volatile. "Yes, you do. You do. Please, Erik..." He summoned what energy he had left and sent a memory to this man who had been his friend—a memory they shared. Erik gasped and blinked, pausing in the middle of pulling his arm back for another blow.

But in the end it only made him angrier, and he punched Charles again anyway. And then a third time. "No, damnit! Keep your lies out of my head!"

Charles coughed on blood, his vision swimming. "Shaw and Frost are the ones lying to you, Erik. I would never do that."

"Shut up!" This time Erik brought a knee up into his stomach, and Charles blacked out again. He was fighting his way back when Erik took matters into his own hands and backhanded him once more, forcing him awake. "Don't you dare! I want answers, damnit! What are you doing to me!"

"Nothing," he gasped. He knew his vision wasn't fading out only because of the trauma. He knew it was blurring because his eyes were damp, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

"Liar!" Erik punched him again, and again, and Charles could do nothing but shout.

"Erik! Please!" Then he was on the ground, and Erik's boot was connecting with his chest, over and over and over, and everything that hurt hurt even more, and Charles had the sudden sinking feeling that he was going to die. If Erik didn't remember everything that had happened these past few months, Erik was going to kill him. Because he wanted answers now, and Charles had no other answers give him. He knew what was wrong with Erik's mind, but Erik didn't want to believe it any more than he had last time. He wouldn't even have to try very hard, to kill him. His body was weak, and it couldn't take much more of this.

There was a brief respite, and Charles gagged around the blood in his throat and just barely managed to send a few more memories to his friend. "Erik, you—please remember. Try...please. I c...I can't do it for you this time." He had no choice but to cough the blood out this time, and when he coughed he felt something give way in his chest—something that must have already been damaged thanks to the blows to the chest or everything else that had happened recently. Charles screamed through a throat already being rubbed raw, and the tears swimming in his eyes found their way out from the corners.

Please please please please please...a few more small memories. Erik let out a strangled sound and angrily bent down over him on one knee, pulling his arm back. But he finally hesitated; finally his face seemed more conflicted. Charles looked up at him weakly, but hoping his gaze seemed firm, knowing that if Erik started to hit him again it would be over soon.

"Erik," he whispered, but it came out much more like a sob. "Please come back."

21 months earlier

It all began the day Moira MacTaggert found him in England. That was the day his life changed entirely. Charles had just given his thesis presentation at Oxford. He officially had a Ph.D. now. He could officially be called a professor, though he refused to let anyone do so until he'd found a teaching position—especially Raven, because she seemed to want to. She thought it suited him.

But Charles was adamant, and to prove just how un-professor-like he still was, they retreated to a local pub after his presentation. It was there Moira found him, and it was there that she told him that he was right—there truly were many, many others like him, like Raven. Moira was CIA, and she had seen them. And after an eternity of attempting to convince her superiors that she was not crazy, they were interested. In fact, they were suddenly very interested. They wanted to find mutants, and help them, she claimed. When Charles searched her mind and found no evidence to the contrary, he went with her wholeheartedly and Raven came along.

Moira brought them to a CIA facility nearly in the middle of nowhere in Virginia, near Washington D.C. It was there they met the man in charge of the facility, who seemed just as excited by the prospect of finding mutants and helping them to adjust as Moira was. Granted, all of them would also be offered the choice of helping the CIA with covert operations—and Charles realized that was likely the only reason anyone higher up was interested—but that part didn't matter so much to him. He only wanted to help. The mutants they found would make their own choices.

Other mutants! Charles could hardly contain his excitement, and he knew Raven felt nearly the same. The both of them had only ever known each other, when it came to the mutant world. He wondered how they planned to find them and just what they needed him for but, when the man in charge of the facility introduced him to Hank McCoy, one of their scientists—who was also a mutant, incidentally—and Hank introduced him to the machine he had built in the facility's back yard...Charles understood.

Cerebro, Hank called it. It had been designed to amplify brainwaves, to boost Charles's powers. It should have unnerved him that the government had known about him—that they had followed his schooling and his choice of field, and known at least a bit about his powers. But he was too excited to care. The government was the government, and it had its strange ways. Raven tried to tell him that even though she was interested, too, in what they could do with this machine, she thought something was wrong. But Charles waved her off.

Charles and Hank tested the machine, and it worked. Charles could sense the other mutants around him in the world—so many of them!—and so many who needed help. His mind traced their coordinates and the computers that were Cerebro printed them out. Moira promised that they would be found quickly—that what was happening to them would be explained. That help would be sent their way as soon as possible and that those that wanted to would be brought here. Charles couldn't wait to meet them.

But none came. Weeks went by, and occasionally he and Hank were asked to run Cerebro again to build the waiting log of coordinates, but no one new arrived at the base. When he asked Moira about it, she complained that the director of the CIA was telling them that it was taking longer than expected to consolidate resources to find these poor people.

"Well good lord, I certainly have enough resources of my own; I'll go," Charles told her. But she asked her superiors, and they quickly turned Charles's offer down and requested that he stay on the base. It was only then that he began to worry, to wonder, and it didn't help that Moira worried too.

"I don't understand," she told him one afternoon. "When they sent me to find you I was under the impression they were ready to move on this immediately."

Both of them were frustrated, and in the weeks of proximity and relative boredom they grew closer, and it helped. The fact that he had one new mutant friend in Hank also helped to alleviate the disappointment of not meeting any others sooner, but...

Something had to be wrong. On that much he and Raven and Moira agreed, but none of them were told anything. The man in charge of the facility knew nothing more than they did, and was equally as annoyed. "Waited my whole life to be taken seriously about studying the application of mutant powers, and now they drag their feet..." he would grumble.

But then came the day that Charles felt new minds in the building, the day he passed a room that two of these new minds occupied, and heard a conversation he knew he shouldn't have. Several of the new minds he'd sensed were mutants—frightened mutants—and he was concerned and also more than a little teed off that no one had told him they were coming and that no one had attempted to calm them down. He'd gone looking for answers, but when he reached the door of the conference room where the man who ran this facility could usually be found, he met two unfamiliar minds instead.

"Why did we bring them here? You know we can't have them here without the telepath knowing," came one voice from inside.

Charles suddenly didn't feel guilty for eavesdropping, and he flattened himself against the wall by the door and tuned into one of the minds inside. The mind he found was the man who had just spoke, whom he did not know. But the second man, Charles recognized the face. There was a picture somewhere in the base. It was the director of the CIA, and he was answering the first man's question.

"The only other base we have that's anywhere near being well enough equipped is full, and the mutant facility isn't finished yet. Almost."

"But, sir..."

"Look, eventually he was going to know anyway, right? So he'll know now. Either he keeps his cool and sees reason, or he doesn't. If he doesn't, we go to Plan B."

Charles couldn't listen anymore. He had to know where on this base those mutants were, and he had to know now. Without thinking twice he invaded the director's mind, but without alerting him, and the answer he came up with made him draw in a sharp breath. Quickly he turned on his heel and hurried away from the conference room as quickly he could go without making noise. The thin carpet in the corridor made it easier.

Dear god...it can't be true. It can't. If anyone on the base before now had known, he would have known. The only explanation was if the director had kept this from everyone here, because he and the other higher-ups had known Charles would find out.

It can't be true...

If it were true then it was his fault. If there really were mutants locked up downstairs, then he was the one to blame for them being here, trapped. He was the one who had sent the CIA straight to them. Oh god oh god, please don't let it be true.

He had gleaned everything he needed from the director's mind to find out, and just to be safe he avoided anyone and everyone as he hurried to the lower levels of the small compound. Eventually he came to a door that required a code, but he had the code. On the other side of the door there was a guard, but Charles merely kept the man from seeing him as he walked past and into the room beyond the guard's desk.

Inside there were more guards, in every corner, and Charles kept them from seeing him as well, but he wasn't prepared for what he saw. Beyond the door were two rows of containment cells.

In nearly every cell was a mutant, protesting loudly or cowering or crying or...

No...

Charles staggered back against the wall just inside, and he sobbed once. I did this.

Chapter Text

Raven...

Charles straightened quickly, the new thought hitting him with the force of a baseball bat. Raven. He had to find Raven, and they had to get out of here. They had to get these other mutants out of here. And they had to do it now, before anyone realized they knew anything.

And Moira. She wasn't on base today. He had to find her; warn her not to come back. She might be in danger as well. Everyone here knew she was sympathetic to them, at the very least, even if they didn't suspect the rest of what was almost going on between Charles and Moira. Not that there was so much of the rest, and now there would be no time for that, but...

But now he had to move. He was still hiding himself from the guards, but he wasn't yet used to the minds of these new mutants, and he hadn't been prepared for their number. They could see him, and many were starting to stare. Soon enough the guards would notice something.

Charles twisted and hurried back out into the corridor, past the guard and the door...but halted just short of the end of the hallway when the director of the CIA rounded the corner in front of him, gun in hand.

"Going somewhere, Xavier?"

Charles reacted the only way he knew how-by reaching for his temple to focus more easily, so he could force the man to lower the gun.

His fingers never made it his head. Several more men had rounded the corner behind the director, and two of them grabbed Charles by the arms and held him tightly, preventing him from raising them.

The director nodded. "Keep his hands down-away from his head. That's how he focuses."

Charles glared. That hardly means I am powerless otherwise, he projected to all of them. He didn't give them time to be surprised before he telepathically forced the soldiers to release him. He went to move-to duck the gun or stop the director from using it, and get to finding Raven. But he was stopped in his tracks again by new arrivals. Three more men rounded the corner, two of them dragging a struggling Raven between them.

The third was holding a gun to her head.

When Raven saw him her eyebrows went up. I TOLD you something was wrong here, she thought angrily. The anger wasn't directed at him, but Charles felt it strongly enough anyway. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, but there was no time for that now.

As soon as Raven and the other soldiers were in sight, the director turned his firearm on Raven as well. She now had two guns aimed straight at her head, and Charles knew he couldn't move.

"You're good, so I hear, but can you stop both of us before she's dead?" the director questioned.

Maybe. But he wouldn't take that chance. He couldn't.

Charles, do something! I know you can! Raven shouted in his mind.

He shook his head minutely. I won't risk your life. I'm sorry...

Charles!

But his arm that had been halfway up he lowered to his side again, and he took a small step back, to show that he understood he was had. The director nodded, and the men behind Charles grabbed him again. The guns trained at Raven lowered.

"Good," the director nodded. "Good. Now here's how this is going to work: You try anything funny, ever, and she dies. You refuse to cooperate with us, and she dies."

"You can't do this. You cannot hold us here against our will, and you cannot threaten our lives; we have done nothing wrong."

"No, but you're also not human, which means I don't have worry about those pesky things called laws."

"We are people just as much as anyone else!"

The director shrugged. "Maybe, but genetically you're a different species. Being a professor of genetics, you should know that. And the Constitution doesn't quite allow for that. I believe it mentions something about men? You aren't men. You're mutants."

Charles swallowed hard. It wasn't right, but the man had a point. If the government wanted to look at it that way, then nothing could stop them from treating mutants in whatever manner they wished. "This is wrong."

"I happen to think it's only right."

"Why? What is the point of all of this? To simply imprison us? Or to study us?"

"All of the above, and then some. Keep you off the streets, protect the population...maybe gain something useful from studying your powers in the process. But anything else is icing on the cake after eliminating the danger you pose."

"We mean no one any harm!" Charles insisted. Not that he really thought he could change the man's mind. And more likely than not it wasn't even this man's mind he needed to change. This had to go much higher up, and there was nothing he could do about that.

"Maybe you don't, but there are plenty of mutants who do. And you are going to help us find them all."

"I won't..."

The director brought his gun up at Raven again. "Oh, so I should pull the trigger?"

"No! I..."

"Then you'll cooperate." He lowered the gun again.

"I...I-I-I..."

Damnit, Charles, stop playing games! Raven thought loudly.

He couldn't. He couldn't let anything happen to her.

Fine. If you won't do something, I will.

His head snapped up in alarm. Raven, don't!

But she was already moving, and it was too late to stop her. In one smooth motion she yanked away from the guards holding her, and shifted forms at the same time from the blond form she usually held to the version of it she had used as a child. The sudden shrinking in size made jumping away from the men holding her easily successful.

But the guns were still there. Before Raven could lash out or run and before Charles could stop any of it, the director swung his gun up again and fired.

"Raven!"

The bullet caught her in the left shoulder and sent her crashing to the ground against the wall of the corridor, and her scream was the most terrifying sound Charles had heard in his life.

Let GO of me! Charles thought it with much more force this time, and the men holding him jumped away immediately. Raven was on the floor, in her natural blue form now, moaning, her disguise lost and forgotten thanks to the pain. "Raven!" Charles ran to her, ripping his gray cardigan off as he went. "God, Raven..." When the director and the soldiers realized he was only concerned for his sister they didn't stop him, and he thanked God for that as he dropped to his knees at her side and pulled her against his shoulder.

"Raven, can you hear me?" He held her to him with one arm and pressed the cardigan against the wound with his free hand. She cried and grunted loudly.

"Yes, I can hear you," she grated out. "Stupid question."

Charles brought his mind closer to hers-not invading or reading it, because he had promised her that he would never do that, but close enough that he could help her deal with the pain.That was exceedingly stupid, he told her silently.

You just standing there was stupider.

He huffed, grimacing when he felt that even that small movement had hurt her. I was afraid that something like THIS might happen. You could be dead. She could still die, if she didn't receive treatment or if there were complications. He was all too aware of that. And stupider is not a word.

I've been shot and you care about grammar?

Not really, but some semblance of pretending that he wasn't panicking was probably a good thing.

"Someone get her medical attention, NOW!" Charles shouted, and it came out more unsteady than he'd wanted it to. Not only was he worried, but he'd taken as much of the pain onto himself as he could. With his powers he could deal with it more easily, suppress it to some extent...but it was still there.

"Are you on board?" the director asked coldly.

Charles glared at him vehemently. "I will never be on board, you bloody bastard, but you know that I will not let her die."

The director looked at him for a moment, as if assessing that answer, and then nodded to one of the guards, who hurried off in search of a medic. With that taken care of, the remaining soldiers fanned out on either side if them, blocking off the section of the hallway-as if either of them were going to try to go anywhere just now.

Raven shivered a little against him. This doesn't hurt nearly as much as it probably should. Am I in shock?

The fact that you can ask that question would imply that you are not.

But...oh. You don't have to do that.

He grimaced, glad she couldn't see it. It's all right.

She responded by nestling her head further into the crook of his neck. You're way too gallant for your own good, you know that? This is stupid. You should be getting out of here right now. You could always come back for the rest of us. If you didn't have to worry about me you could just-

Charles's mouth pressed into a thin line. If I left, you would be dead by the time I made it back. I have no doubt that the director would keep his promise.

The director?

That man is McCone, the director of the CIA.

Well that's just great...

Charles winced in agreement. I believe I understand why Moira has said that she has never liked him.

There was silence in his mind for a long moment, before anything else came from Raven.

I'm so sorry...

He pressed his face into her orange hair and kissed the top of her head. Hush now. She needed to save her strength.

That, and it was much easier to deal with the pain he was taking from her if he didn't have to do much else. He was almost having trouble keeping the cardigan pressed hard enough to the wound.

Raven obliged, and her mind fell silent. She rested against him, and didn't seem to mind when he left his forehead against her hair. Charles could feel her weakening; even though he was keeping most of the pain away, she was still losing blood. Keeping the cardigan pressed against the wound was helping, but it was not a perfect solution.

If help was coming, it needed to come faster.

It took longer than it should have, and it took nearly every scrap of concentration Charles had to keep them both conscious until then. Otherwise Raven would have been out long before the medics arrived, and he likely would have gone with her. By the time they did arrive Charles's breaths were coming in short, quiet gasps, and Raven's mind was becoming less and less coherent. He could tell that even without reading it.

He was a bit out of it with her by then, and he didn't know the medical team had arrived until one of them said something.

"How am I supposed to treat that?" It could have been taken a number of ways, but Charles, of course, knew exactly what the man meant.

Raven didn't have enough energy to be angry, but Charles's head snapped up at the comment and he glowered at the young doctor. "Just because she looks different does not make her some sort of creature. Her physiology is just the same as yours."

Except my insides can move,she thought deliriously. She meant when she changed.

Raven, hush.

Then they were taking her from him, moving her to a stretcher, and Charles was pulled to his feet and held between two of the soldiers again. And then the men holding him were pulling him in one direction, and the medical team was taking the stretcher in another.

"No; I'm staying with her..."

"No you're not," the director corrected quickly. "I'm sure you'll know how she's doing from where you'll be."

He would know. But what if something went wrong? What if, god forbid, she didn't make it and he wasn't there? He didn't want her to be alone. He was distressed enough about the possibility that he didn't know he was projecting his worries until they brought Raven back to coherency.

I'm not alone...just stay with me your way.

I will. I'll be right here. Just hold on, Raven; you'll be all right.

She chuckled weakly in his mind. You always know what to say. Except when you don't. Then you crash an burn.

Then Charles couldn't see her anymore, but he could feel her, and it was better than nothing. He still struggled as they pulled him down the corridor, but he knew it was no use. They weren't going to bring him back to her, not now, and he couldn't force the issue. Not if he wanted Raven to live.

They dragged him up a level and through what seemed to be a lab, and into a chamber with four doors set around its perimeter-holding cells, but different than those downstairs. Designed for more difficult prisoners. From one door off to the left came a heavy banging, and the mind on the other side was angry and confused, and most definitely mutant. But he couldn't see inside, because there were no windows in these doors. When the director, who had followed them, opened the one off to the right, Charles saw that there was a camera in one upper corner to make up for the lack of bars or windows.

The cell was gray steel walls and nothing more, save the toilet and sink against one of the six walls of the small hexagon-shaped room. The director pulled Charles away from the soldiers and shoved him into the cell himself.

"We'll be back when we need you," he explained shortly.

"You're making a mistake," Charles tried once again. "Mutants are not simply a threat; we-"

But they slammed the door in his face.

Eventually Raven did lose consciousness, and she wasn't certain when. Much of what had happened since the bullet ripped into her shoulder was a blur. But she remembered Charles, and how he'd taken much of the pain away, and how he'd stayed with her even when they'd taken him from her. Now she was waking on her back, and all she could see were gray metal walls. Her shoulder ached, but it wasn't awful. It was bandaged, and her arm was in a sling, and as her head spun a bit she realized they'd at least had the decency to give her pain medication.

She sat up slowly from the pad she'd been laid on, and from the haphazard way it was laid across the floor she could tell that it wasn't usually in here. She could also tell that this was a holding cell.

Charles...?

He was already there, at the edge of her mind, waiting for her. She could feel his concern from here.

Raven! Are you all right? Where are you?

I'm okay. I uhm...She let him in enough to see what she saw, and he gave a mental sigh of relief.

You aren't far, unless there is another room with cells like that. Where I was brought there were only four, and I'm in one of them. There was a muffled pounding off to her left. Did you hear that?

I heard it. You're right here.

I told you I would be.

Raven smiled a little, and he let her know that he was smiling too. But it was gone just as quickly, and Charles moaned.

Oh Raven, I am so sorry. All of this is my fault.

Hey, I thought something was fishy. I thought we should get out of here. I should have insisted. I shouldn't have been such a pushover.

You are anything but a pushover.

Well I should have-

Raven, please. This is in no way your fault.

She fell silent for a moment, and replied gently. If it's not my fault, it's not your fault, either. She felt a flash of grudging assent, but she knew he didn't feel it. He was going to blame himself for this, and there was nothing she could do to change that. What do we now, Charles? she asked instead.

I...I don't know, he admitted. You thought we should do something, and perhaps we should, but I refuse to try anything at all until you're well again.

It's a shoulder wound; that doesn't affect my feet.

It will once you try to run; it will hurt. If we're going to attempt to escape from here we'll need to wait until that wound is not so fresh.

Raven hated it when he was right like that. Fine...and then we wait for the right moment and you mojo us out of here.

Charles sighed. The plan will need to be a bit more detailed than that, but I suppose that would be our only option just now.

What about Hank? she asked suddenly.

What?

They know he's a mutant now!

I know that. I want to get everyone out of here, including Hank, but I'm afraid I've only been worried about you for a bit now.

I know, I know...sorry. She swallowed. And...thanks. You may have saved my life back there. She felt him shrug it off, and she knew there was no way he wouldn't have done what he did in the corridor.

You're my sister, Raven, Charles thought to her quietly. I love you. I will not let anything happen to you while I still have the power to prevent it.

Charles? Are you all right in there? Charles!

Charles had fallen asleep against the wall in his cell, and when something woke him he had no idea what time it was or if were even the same day. He hadn't a watch on when everything happened, and there was nothing in this room to mark the passage of time.

Charles! That voice again, the mind thinking at him. The one that had woken him. Charles, I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but please...

Moira?

They won't let me in to see you...

He reached out to her with his mind and found that she was on the other side of the cell door. What are you doing here? You could be in danger, but you must know that by now. They-

I know. I found out what happened when I got here this morning.

It was the next morning then. That would explain the stiffness in his back and neck. He'd slept nearly a whole night slumped against the wall. If he was going to be in here for any length of time he was going to have to decipher a better way of sleeping. At least they'd given Raven a sleeping pad and she didn't have to worry about that part.

Oh god...Charles, you have to believe I had no idea they what they were planning. I-

I know, he answered quickly. He got to his feet and went to the door. When he'd touched her mind he'd seen that her hands were against the door, and he put his against it now too. Are you sure you aren't in any danger?

Not now. The director briefed me on the new state of things when I got back and what our mission is, and they let me go. Apparently the same happened with everyone else here yesterday. I think, as federal agents, they just expect us to fall in line and do our job.

Even if it is a complete turn-around from what you thought you were attempting to do yesterday?

I never said I made the smartest choice in the world deciding work for the government...

Charles chuckled weakly, and made sure that Moira was aware of the good part of it.

I'm so sorry, Charles. If I'd known...but I won't let them keep doing this. We have to stop them, Charles. I-I'll...I'll get you out of here, somehow, and we'll fix this...

I don't know that you can fix a government that doesn't understand-a group of people who are acting out of fear. Of course, two days ago he wouldn't have given even that answer. He would have been convinced that anything could be solved with reasoning. But two days ago he hadn't yet been threatened and thrown into a holding cell by a government organization he thought he could trust. Two days ago the director of the CIA hadn't gunned down his adopted sister. I believe the best we can hope for at present is to find a way to get everyone out of here. That much I agree with. I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to change more than that later, but the safety of the mutants already trapped here should come first.

This isn't the only place they're being held.

I had gathered that.

They're building a larger facility somewhere, for holding the mutants. They're going to move you and Cerebro and everyone else there within two or three months.

Charles thought for a moment. What are you saying?

I don't know! I don't know if it would be smarter to wait until everyone is there and get them all out at once or if we should get you out now. The new facility won't be as easy to to get out OF.

He let his head drop forward against the cool metal. I don't know, Moira. I...I'm afraid I'm not thinking quite clearly just now. Everything has changed so quickly...

He didn't mean to let it, but some of the pain and distress he was feeling slipped through with the thought, and he heard Moira sob softly through the connection he had with her mind.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I can't believe this is happening either. I don't know what to do. I just know I can't stand the thought of you...of you two being locked up in here. I'll get you out-

I wouldn't go without Raven.

I know. Is she all right?

Charles winced. It was only a flesh wound, so I gather. She should make a full recovery.

He felt Moira startle. Wait...what? She's hurt?

He huffed to himself. Of course they wouldn't tell you that...

What happened?

She tried to get away. Your director shot her in the shoulder, he answered angrily. He tried to make it clear that it wasn't anger at her, but he felt her cringe anyway, and she turned around and leaned back against his door for better support.

Oh my god...

She'll be all right.

It shouldn't have happened! You're people, too; they can't treat you like this!

I'm afraid your director and his superiors believe that they they can, Charles answered sadly. he turned around now too, and let his head knock softly back against the door. He scrubbed his hands over his face as the magnitude of all of this hit him all over again. Or maybe for the first time, really. God.

Finally he had to come to a decision that he didn't want to make. Moira...I don't want you to do anything.

What?

Don't do anything. Don't help us escape. If we're going to do it, we'll figure it out on our own. If anything happens, I don't want you involved. He felt that she was hurt, and added quickly, for your own safety.

Do you think I care about my own safety at this point?

I do, he thought back firmly. After what happened yesterday I have no reason to believe that you won't be in serious danger if they know that you are against them. Don't do anything to make them suspect that you are.

But...

No. You need to do this. He took a deep breath. And you shouldn't come to see me. Even from the other side of the door. You should stay away from here entirely. Don't give them ANY reason to suspect you.

But CHARLES!

Moira, please! He sank to the ground against the door, and brought his fingers to his temple as she continued to protest in her thoughts. Moira, listen to me...

He calmed her, and after giving her a gentle nudge mentally to ask for entrance she let him in-in farther than he'd needed to be just to communicate as they had been. At the front of her mind, behind the shock and the anger at her superiors and her worry for Charles and Raven, were memories from the past few weeks. They were the memories the two of them shared, and Charles found the one he was looking for-the same one he was thinking strongly of himself right now.

He pulled the memory out and drew her to it, and after more focus...

They were there. The blank cell was gone, and he was in the courtyard with Moira. It was three nights ago-the night before all of this ruined everything.

The moon was full, and the stars were out in full force, but they couldn't compete. The weather allowed for a perfect view, and it was an ideal night for a walk. Moira had obliged him without a second thought, and when they'd made it outside Charles had placed her hand in the crook of his arm and kept his own hand over it, in the traditional way. It was something he had only ever done with Raven, because he had always known that if he were to do it with any other woman that it would be deliberately romantic.

That was the idea now. Moira had laughed a little, but she hadn't resisted, and she seemed to enjoy the simple intimacy. For a while they didn't speak; they didn't need to.

"This is nice," Moira said finally.

"It is, isn't it? I thought a bit of distraction would do us good; it's been frustrating enough recently, waiting."

"I'm sorry about that."

"No, no; it isn't your fault." Charles smiled a bit and looked up at the night sky. "I should be happy enough that this is going to happen at all. And god, I can't wait. All of those minds that I touched..." When he glanced back down Moira was smiling over at him. "What?"

"I just love it that you're so excited about this. Your enthusiasm is contagious. I was interested enough in the idea of meeting more mutants, of seeing what we can do for them, but then I met you, and...I don't know. It all seems even more worth-it now."

"Well none of this would be possible at all if you hadn't found me. And thank you for giving me a chance anyway; I know I didn't make the most brilliant first impression."

"It wasn't so bad. Besides, I saw your presentation first, remember? But anyway...I didn't find you; they sent me to where you were. I was just the messenger."

Charles smiled. "A very beautiful messenger."

She laughed. "Charles Xavier, you are hopeless."

"Am I?" he asked in amusement. They had stopped now, facing each other rather than side-by-side.

"I think you are," Moira smiled. "The good kind."

"Well that is certainly more encouraging. I hope that means that you won't mind if I do this..."

With that Charles brought a hand to her cheek, and he kissed her. She responded easily, and when he pulled back she smiled at him in satisfaction. "That was even nicer than the walk."

Then the memory was over. Not much had happened after that. They had been out there for few more minutes, but then he had walked her back inside. He hadn't wanted to rush things. Not with Moira.

And now even though that was all of the memory they had to relive, they were still there, standing in the courtyard. Moira blinked suddenly and looked around in shock.

"How did you do that? How are you doing this?"

"Long years of practice."

She looked back to him in confusion. "If you could do this, why didn't you do it before now? So we could talk more easily?"

"It takes a great deal of concentration, and I'd hoped it wouldn't be necessarily. I had hoped you would see reason more quickly."

Moira swallowed and looked away. "How was reliving that supposed to make me want to abandon you?"

"I'm not asking you to abandon me; I am asking you to stay safe."

"But..."

Charles took her face in his hands and made her look at him. "Moira, please. I need you to be safe. There is no sense in giving up your livelihood, your life as you know it, just to assist in a plot of escape that may or may not succeed. If you play their game you can stay where you are. We may need someone on the inside at some point-or the outside, as the case may be just now."

"Well, I guess that makes sense, but..."

"But what?"

"Nothing, I just..." She didn't seem to know what to say. Instead, without warning because even she hadn't thought it out first, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. "I don't want to not be able to see you..."

Charles's arms went around her waist when she leaned into him, and even when she broke off the kiss he held onto her, his forehead pressed into hers. "I know. I don't want it, either."

"Then why are you asking me to do it?"

"Because it's better for you. It may be better for everyone, in the long run."

"And what about you?"

He squeezed her closer. "That isn't important."

"It's important to me."

"I know...but I started this, whether I wanted to or not, and I have to see it through to the end."

"I helped you start it," Moira said quietly.

He finally let her go just enough to pull back and look her in the eyes. "Please just do this. For me. Please promise me that you will do this. When we leave here, you'll go, and you won't come back to where they're holding us again unless you're required to. You will not try to contact me unless they allow you to have contact with me."

She nodded wordlessly, unhappily, but she was nodding. Then, "But what if they want me to join one of the teams tracking down the mutants, Charles? How can I do that?"

"If they want you to do that, try to help the mutants if you can, if you must do something. Again, nothing that would make your superiors suspect you, but if you can speak with them...tell them that all hope is not lost. Tell them what you will, as long as you aren't caught. Do what you can, but do not put yourself in danger."

"All right, all right, all right..." she relented. "I'll do it. But if this lasts, don't expect me to lay low forever."

Charles let out a breath. "No. I don't suppose I could expect that." Then he kissed her one more time.

I think I could have loved you. I think I do love you.

But those thoughts he kept to himself.

Then Charles broke away gently, and he smiled because he didn't want tears to be the last thing she saw of him. He broke the connection and he was back in the dim cell, with nothing but the gray walls to keep him company.

Moira was still on the other side of the door, and she could have said goodbye before she left, but she didn't. He knew she wasn't any more eager to use those words that he was.

Charles didn't cry until she was long gone.

Chapter Text

Days passed. Possibly weeks. At least two or three weeks. With no way of telling the time Charles couldn't know for sure. He had a relatively decent internal clock, but it was not perfect. He attempted to keep tabs on the passage of time by brushing the minds of those around them in the compound, but he feared anything too invasive. If anyone noticed anything it could put Raven in danger, if they thought he was up to something.

The delivery of food didn't help with the telling of time, because he knew enough to know that it was erratic at best. Bottled water and paper plates of food were pushed through a slot in the door that was quickly closed again...and sometimes it was just the water. But no one came to remove the empty containers. The door never opened. At first the plates and bottles piled up in a corner. There was a small cabinet beneath the sink, however, that he eventually realized stayed stocked with toilet paper, and when he tried putting the empty containers there they disappeared. Apparently it opened from the other side as well.

But it could be an avenue of escape no more than the slot in the door. It wasn't big enough to fit his body through by any stretch of the imagination.

Charles spoke to Raven telepathically, his only company, and after a bit he was able to determine that they were treating her at least a little better than they were treating him. Her food came regularly, and maybe more often, and occasionally Raven's door opened, and a nurse went in to clean and re-dress her wound-while a soldier leveled a gun at her, but at least they were seeing to the injury. She also still had the pad they'd given her to sleep on.

Not that he let her know that conditions were different for him. She didn't need to know that a permanent mild headache had set in thanks to being forced to sleep on the cold floor. She didn't need to know that the irregular food and lack of a proper place to sleep were leaving him hungry, sore, and utterly exhausted. He managed to keep most of the fatigue and stress out of his telepathic transmissions, though a bit more slipped through as time wore on, and Raven began to suspect something.

He was still holding her off on discovering the truth when they came for him the first time.

Charles sensed more than one someone approaching his cell, and when food was brought it was only one person. This time there were three, and one of them was the director, McCone. That was more than enough to get him to his feet, and immediately he began to quietly search the forefronts of their minds for what they might be coming for.

He found the answer easily, and realized he should have known. But there was nothing he could do but glare steadily at the door until it was opened.

McCone said nothing as the two men with him came into the cell to grab Charles's arms and pull him out.

"I want to see Raven," Charles said immediately.

"You cooperate, and I'll think about it," McCone quipped. And he turned on his heel and strode from the room, followed by the two lackeys holding Charles between them.

Charles already knew where they were going, but that didn't make him any more happy about it. What now? He didn't want to do this.

Cerebro was a converted radar installation that sat in the middle of the compound's fenced-in back yard, which meant the outside. Charles was looking forward at least to the fresh air until the door to the yard opened, and the mid-day sun stabbed into his eyes like a knife. It felt so much hotter than it should have as he sucked in a breath and clenched his eyes shut, and he realized it must have been quite a while since he had seen the sun. He wasn't able to open his eyes at all until they were nearly across the yard to the installation. And even then he only saw a brief flash of grass and they were shoving him up the ladder. The fresh air was forgotten.

There were two more guards inside already, along with an unhappy Hank McCoy and another CIA agent Charles had not seen before. After a brief scan he came up with the name Stryker.

And something about this new agent struck him even colder than the director.

The handrail around the small platform he had stood on while using Cerebro before was gone, and there was a metal chair on the platform now-a chair with wrist and ankle restraints. And the men holding Charles were dragging him toward it.

Charles didn't go quietly. The only thing Raven had made him promise in recent days was that when they came for him he would not make it easy for them. If your plan is to not get me killed then don't get me killed, but don't just go along with it either. Fight back. Don't let them think they've won, she'd told him.

Gladly.

He pulled and tugged and pushed and twisted, enough that the two extra men flanking Hank had to help to get him in the chair, not to mention getting his wrists and ankles in the restraints. Even once the cold metal was snapped over them he pulled at it, just to be sure it was completely unyielding.

It was.

He could have stopped them all. He could have made them do anything he wanted, but someone would know. Someone inside would know, and they would hurt Raven.

So there was nothing else for him to do but glare at McCone. "This is wrong."

"Sorry. Just following orders. The fact that I agree with them is a plus."

"You are imprisoning innocent people! Don't make me do this..."

And that was when Agent Stryker walked up to him and backhanded him across the face. Hard.

"Shut up, freak. You want your sister to live, then you do what we tell you. That's all you need to worry about.

Charles seethed quietly, ignoring the dry bottom lip the blow had easily split. "If you so much as touch her..."

"We don't have to touch her. That's the fun part. Those cells? They can be airtight. We could cut off her air and she would suffocate. Slowly. As she used up the air already in there. It would take hours."

Charles stared at him in horror. "You can't..." Distantly, it registered that McCone was just as startled by this revelation. Somehow that was a bit of a comfort.

"Try me," Stryker snarled.

The director came up behind him. "This is Agent Stryker," he said unnecessarily. "He'll be staying here to oversee this project; as director I'm needed elsewhere."

God help us all...

Both Stryker and the director moved off, and motioned for Hank to prepare the machine. He did, scowling, and when he came to Charles to pull the headpiece down over his head he let a hand rest on the telepath's shoulder for a moment.

Charles, I...I'm sorry, he thought. I don't have a choice. They threatened my parents. I-

It's all right, my friend, Charles answered gently.

Hank's head ducked as he backed away again. "Ready," he said quietly, to McCone.

"Good. Get started then," the director said immediately.

Charles was gripping the arms of the chair even before the machine was activated, and as soon as it was his fingers curled even tighter around the edges at the sudden expansion of consciousness. It was wonderful-or had been before-but he still was not used to it.

Because his mind had been focused there so constantly recently anyway, Cerebro took him immediately to Raven. She was back in her own cell, and he could really see her now, finally, instead of simply seeing through her eyes when he checked on her. He already knew she was healing well enough, but seeing her helped to assuage his worry and assure him that she really did look all right.

But he needed to move on. They didn't want Raven; they had Raven. They wanted the coordinates of other mutants-mutants they could track down and capture and imprison like animals. He didn't want to move on, but he didn't have a choice. Still...Charles refused to specifically seek them out, and instead he let his mind wander. Cerebro should have brought up random selections, shown him something...but it was as if the machine knew he didn't want to be doing this.

He saw nothing. The minds of mutants around the globe swam in the background of the gray nothingness, but nothing came forward. For a moment he even tried harder, suddenly afraid that if he came up with nothing they would hurt Raven after all, but he couldn't overcome his subconscious. Nothing happened.

Suddenly the machine was off, and Charles was seeing the inside of the installation again.

"What happened?" McCone demanded.

"I-I don't know," Hank stammered. "All of the readings were normal to begin with. It's working, it's just...not working."

Stryker approached Charles again, glaring. "Then it's him. He's doing something. He's keeping it from working."

Technically, that was true, but Charles wasn't doing it on purpose. Not exactly.

"Not purposely," he said quickly. "I'll try again."

"You had better," Stryker confirmed. He motioned to Hank, and a moment later Cerebro was active again. It started the way he was used to this time-the rush of minds around him, all of them indecipherable at first just because of the sheer quantity. He picked at them randomly, or tried to. But when he snatched at them they slipped away, and he could only assume that it was again the work of his subconscious mind being unwilling to betray his fellow mutants.

No no no. Yes, this was bad. No, he didn't want this, but he had to do it. At least for now. He could fix it later, but it had to be done now. He couldn't let anything happen to his sister.

Please please please...

Nothing was happening yet, but maybe if he...but they shut the machine off again.

"Wait! I-"

"I don't think you have enough incentive just yet," Stryker finished for him. "We'll fix that."

"No, no, I can do it! I just need more time..."

"I'm not a patient man, Xavier. You'll find that out. I also have no qualms about doing whatever may need to be done to keep this operation running."

"Just let him try again," McCone was saying.

"Tomorrow," Stryker said. McCone could have overruled him, but he didn't. He only huffed and went for the exit.

"Whatever. But I need to be out of here by tomorrow night."

From Stryker there was still no other explanation, but a pit of dread settled in Charles's stomach anyway. He was more than a little afraid to read the man's mind to understand what he planned to do.

"Wait!" Charles called again, irrationally hoping that maybe McCone, at least, would listen. "I can do it! I'll do it!" But McCone was gone, and he was left with Stryker and Hank and the guards. The agent nodded and all four men came to the chair pull back the restraints and pull Charles up. Charles didn't struggle, because he was focused on deciphering what Stryker meant to do now.

He had only seen bits and pieces before he panicked. Raven. Air. He really meant to do it.

"NO!"

It was against his nature to harm anyone, but the sheer panic brought on by the realization channeled itself telepathically, and all six of the others still in the installation with him doubled over in pain-even Hank, because he hadn't meant to do it at all and hadn't been able to shield his friend.

"Charles!" Hank grated out.

He stopped when he realized what he was doing, and bolted for the stairs instead, sending apologies back to Hank, who seemed to accept them.

Charles wasn't fast enough. The two more fit of the guards recovered quickly enough to jump up and snatch him before he was down more than two steps. They dragged him back up, and he screamed at them incoherently. He was going to force them to let him go when Hank cried out behind him, knocked unconscious by one of the other men when he tried to move to help.

"Hank!" But there was nothing he could do for him now, and-

Charles jerked, crying out in surprise at a sudden sharp pain stabbing his upper arm. In his struggling and panic he had failed to notice Stryker pulling a small syringe from his jacket and uncapping it. The needle was now buried in Charles's arm, and the contents had already been emptied.

Immediately he began to weaken, and the room began to spin and fade around him. No...

And then there was nothing.

When Charles jerked awake he was on the floor of his cell, and the drugs had not worn off in any sense of the words. Everything was blurry, and when he tried to sit up his arms slipped out from under him again. Even coming up a few inches had left him hopelessly dizzy.

Slowly everything that had happened before he'd lost consciousness came back, and with it came the panic.

Charles reached out with his mind, looking for Stryker, needing to know if the agent had done what he'd thought he would do...but he couldn't find Stryker. He couldn't find anyone. He could hardly sense anything at all.

The drugs...they were disorienting him enough that his powers were nearly useless. Damnit, Stryker must have been hoping that was what they would do. He would have known that otherwise, Charles would have stopped anything from happening to his sister.

Raven...Raven!

Her, he could still feel. Because she was right here, in the next cell, and she was important to him. She felt faint, but he hoped fervently that it was only because his powers were almost unusable at the moment.

Raven! It felt strange, panicking while he was flat on his face, but at least it got results.

Charles...? Where the hell have you been? I can barely hear you...

Drugged me...having trouble even contacting you...

What? Why? she wondered distantly.

Charles didn't bother to answer. Are you all right?

I don't...I don't think so. It's...getting hard to breathe in here. What's going on?

Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. Charles began to drag himself toward the wall, hoping that if he could prop himself up it would give him a little more focus. Don't struggle. Relax. Take small breaths. Conserve your air.

Yeah...got that...but...why? What...?

Damnit, how long had he been out? How much longer could she make it?

He told her, reluctantly, what had happened. I-I couldn't make Cerebro work. Too much of me didn't want to do it, and it just...I tried. I tried, but nothing happened. They weren't happy...

They're doing this?

It has to be a trick. It must be. They wouldn't...they know that if anything happens to you I will never do what they want.

What if they're stupid enough to think you will?

Charles swallowed hard. Please just hold on...

That would be the plan...

He reached the wall and tried to right himself at least a little, but he slid down again at every attempt. He was still much too dizzy, and it was much harder than he thought. But he wasn't going to let go of Raven to focus on trying to sit up. With his head against the wall at least it was a bit more upright.

Time passed. Charles stayed with his sister, desperately trying to thing if something, anything else he could do. But every time he tried to reach farther than Raven everything faded out, and he simply couldn't do it. His vision wasn't improving yet, and his balance only by a little. Finally he got himself up against the wall, though it alone, really, was supporting him. At least he'd thought to crawl toward the wall closest to Raven's cell. He didn't have to move again.

Just hold on, small breaths, don't panic...

It was a litany in his mind, over and over, soon becoming so much a part of his being just now that he almost didn't remember that Raven was the only one running out of air.

Charles...I don't want to die. I was just being brave before when I told you to leave. I don't want to die and I want you here with me...Raven told him groggily.

Charles bit back a sob. I'm right here.

I know...

She was running out of time. Oh god, were they really going to let this happen? He reached out again, trying as hard as he could to reach someone who could fix it. But still he could reach no one else, and he shouted wordlessly in frustration.

I'm so tired...

NO, Raven. You have to stay awake. If you go to sleep you won't wake up.

No no no no no. Not yet. She had to stay awake. He needed more time. His strength was coming back with agonizing slowness. Just a bit more time and maybe he could reach someone...

Maybe if I just close my eyes for a minute...

RAVEN! Stay AWAKE! DO NOT close your eyes!

Charles mustered what physical strength he did have to pound on the wall he was leaning against. "Raven!"

There was no answer, aloud or in her mind.

"Raven! RAVEEEN!" Charles screamed, pounding on the cell wall for all he was worth. He lost his balance and fell sharply away from the wall, his head smacking the floor. It only made the dizziness worse, and he couldn't get back up. So he kicked the wall instead.

Raven, NO! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, DAMNIT! RAVEN!

But she was unconscious, and nothing was going to bring her out of it now. Not unless she got more air. And soon.

"Raven! Raven, please! Raven! Raven!" Charles kept shouting, because he didn't know what else to do. Soon enough the shouting came out as sobs, and then, as he curled in on himself, all he could do was sob. No...oh god no...

He could feel her slipping away.

Charles sucked in a breath at the same moment Raven did, and he was sitting up in an instant, much of the dizziness gone simply from the shock.

Raven!

Through his connection with her he heard her cough, doubling over for a moment before she puled in more air and straightened against the wall. Wh...what? Did they let the air back in?

They must have, thank god. God, Raven, I thought...

I did too.

Chest heaving, Charles dropped back to the floor again just out of relief, and the rest of the tears built up behind his eyes freed themselves.

They came for him again the next day as Agent Stryker had promised, and once the drugs had worn off completely. It wouldn't do to have them in his system while he was trying to use Cerebro, after all.

Charles still made a point of glaring at them all in as hostile a fashion as he could, but he didn't struggle this time. Not now. He wasn't going to risk anything this time. As much as he hated it, they had taught him his lesson. He knew any further ideas of escape were now scrapped, too. At least until the situation changed, and there could be a better way to do it. Perhaps, as Moira had suggested, it would make more sense once everyone was moved to the facility.

This time both McCone and Stryker where there when the door opened, and Charles was already on his feet again. He went with the guards wen they pulled him out, and he said nothing. Stryker looked very smug, which was maddening, but McCone...well, that was a surprise.

He was trying not to look it, but Charles could sense the director's remorse. Apparently what Stryker had done was a bit much for his sensibilities, despite the fact that he had nearly killed Raven himself only a few weeks ago. Charles had been too angry then to care to search the man's mind, but now that he did he found something that he hadn't expected to find-that McCone had never wanted to actually kill her. He was a very practiced shot, and he'd hit her in the shoulder on purpose. As for the cruel joke Stryker had played...

Charles let out a breath of shock. Oh god. Stryker really had considered letting Raven die. He'd planned to simply use the other mutants here against Charles after that, and Charles would have done it, too. He wouldn't have let innocent people die even if he didn't know them.

McCone was the one who had convinced Stryker that they should keep Raven alive. Was he less on board with all of this than he pretended to be? Was he covering it up because of men like Stryker, and whoever was above them?

Maybe that could be used later, but for now he let it go.

Either way, Charles was shaking by the time they pushed him up the ladder into Cerebro, horrified by how close he had come to losing his sister. He still didn't struggle, but the soldiers had a hard time getting him in the chair and snapping the restraints on this time simply because he was trembling so hard.

Hank wasn't here yet, and they had to wait. Charles took the time to let his head rest against the back of the chair, and he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. His abilities helped. It was ridiculously relieving for them to be working properly again; he had felt half blind when they didn't.

Charles?

It was Hank. He was here now, and Charles opened his eyes and saw that his friend was looking a little the worse for wear now-and that he was wearing the same clothes he had been in yesterday. In a moment of skimming his mind Charles found that the young scientist was now the occupant of the cell on the other side of Raven's. He hadn't noticed before because he had still been recovering from the drugs.

Is Raven all right? Hank was asking desperately. There were red rims around his eyes and dark circles under them. All that shouting last night...you were "screaming"...I-I-I was afraid...

Raven is all right for now, Charles told him. I'm so sorry, my friend; I didn't mean to cause trouble for you.

Hank let out a breath it seemed he had been holding all night, when he heard that Raven was alive. It was only a matter of time before I couldn't play nice anymore. They would have locked me up then, anyway. It was only a matter of time.

Charles still felt guilty enough for it, but he was becoming very good at the guilt bit recently.

He and Hank had no more time to converse, because Stryker was eager to get started. McCone stood by silently.

This time Cerebro started off normally again, and this time Charles sense that it was going to cooperate with him. He was desperate enough for nothing like what had just happened to happen again that it worked. He let his mind wander, as he had last time, and the coordinates recorded were at random.

At first he didn't want to look too closely at those he was inadvertently betraying, but he felt he owed them that. So every one that came up, he looked at, and he remembered every face. Someday he would see all of them free again and someday he would apologize to every single one of them.

Charles retained some control over what the machine did. If a mind he plucked out proved to be that of a child he took special care to shove it quickly back into the pool before the coordinates were recorded. He had to act incredibly fast to succeed at this, and it happened more than once. The effect was draining, but he did it anyway. It was the least he could do.

When they shut the machine down he had lost count of how many coordinates the machine had taken from his mind, and he didn't want to know. But the jumble of faces was still at the forefront of his mind.

They brought him and Hank and back together, and Hank was quickly shoved into his own cell, but Charles refused to budge from the middle of the room.

"I want to see Raven," he demanded tiredly.

Agent Stryker looked ready to say no immediately.

"If you would like to plan on my continued cooperation, you will let me see her," Charles added through clenched teeth.

Stryker's eyes narrowed. "Fine," he said unhappily.

The door was opened, and Raven got up quickly in surprise. "Charles!"

He pulled away from the men holding him, admittedly using his power to be certain they let him go, and wordlessly went to her and pulled her into his arms. He had to be careful of her healing shoulder, but she didn't seem as concerned about it as he was as she returned the embrace tightly.

"You've seen her. Let's go," Stryker barked from behind him.

Charles glanced back, expression stricken as he clung to his sister, and McCone finally spoke up.

"Just leave him there for tonight. He cooperated."

Agent Stryker grumbled, but after a moment he closed the door on them, and they were gone.

Raven was the first to speak once they were alone. "So you did it?"

Charles swallowed and looked at floor. "What else was I to do? I nearly lost you twice; that was quite enough for me."

"Hey, it's okay..." She hugged him again, and he kissed her cheek.

"It appears we may be stuck here for a while longer than I'd hoped. I won't attempt anything now. Not unless something changes. It's too dangerous."

"I guess I understand," Raven sighed.

"I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you."

She grimaced. "I know, I know...same here. I said I understood."

Charles let out a breath and nodded, before pulling back once more to look her over.

"Are you all right?" he asked. He held her out, looking her up and down, but he could find nothing alarming other than the healing bullet wound, which didn't seem to hurt her much anymore.

"I'm fine," she insisted. Now she really looked at him, though, and she frowned worriedly as she pushed a clump of hair out of his face. "But you're not. You're pale."

"It's nothing to be alarmed about. After weeks inside you would be too, if you could be pale. But you're blue. Though now that I think about it, perhaps you're a bit lighter blue than usual..."

Raven slapped his arm and took her turn looking him up and down, but her scowl didn't disappear. "You're skinnier. How are you skinnier?"

"I am not-"

"Yes you are. You're thinner. You're pale and you're thinner."

"Well perhaps just a little, but-"

"Charles, tell me the truth. Were they giving you enough to eat? If they gave you the same amount they gave me you should be fine, but you're not. They weren't, were they?" He couldn't help but look away, and Raven made a small strangled sound.

"Damnit, Charles! Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't as if there were anything you could do about it..."

Raven embraced him again, not even much more forcefully than before, but he still staggered. Charles started to steady himself, but Raven had other ideas. When she realized he was weak she gently pulled him down onto the pad and sat beside him.

"God, you're shaking."

"I'm all right..."

She shifted out of the way, sitting on the floor instead, and made him lie down.

"Raven, I'm all right..." But it came out groggily. The sleeping pad wasn't the softest, but it was still the best thing he had felt in weeks. "Don't...want to take your bed."

"You don't have one of these either, do you?"

What...? How had she known?

You should have seen your face when you laid down. She attempted to make that amusing, but the sadness slipped through.

Raven sat beside him, a hand running calmingly through his hair. "Anyway, it's okay. That thing is starting to hurt my back. I was about to try the floor for a change anyway."

"Liar..." But he didn't know for sure, of course. He wouldn't read her mind.

She smirked. "If I am lying, then we're even."

Charles chuckled quietly, amazed that he could do so, and finally let his eyes slip shut. "I suppose so." He paused. "Are you sure you don't want your bed?"

He heard Raven lean down, and felt her kiss his forehead. Her fingers still carded through his hair, soothing him toward sleep. You've taken care of me all my life, Charles. My turn.

Chapter Text

16 months later

The noonday Florida sun beat down on the deck of the Caspartina, and Erik stood silently at the railing in typical fashion, hands in his pockets as he looked out over the water, bored as hell. Emma, as always, was sunbathing. Sometimes it seemed she could do it for days on end and never end up a single shade darker. Not that Erik cared. He had never liked her, and never would. He couldn't put his finger on why, but she bothered him. Maybe it was because she always seemed to know things that she shouldn't know.

But whatever it was, the occasional sex was more out of boredom and frustration than anything.

"Pack your bags, Erik. You're headed to Virginia."

Erik turned, an eyebrow raised, to look at Shaw as he came up on deck.

"What? Why?"

"The Americans think they may have a problem at their mutant facility. They've been asking me to come look the place over anyway, but you know we've been busy. I still have other things to attend to, so I thought I'd send my right-hand man."

Erik hated it when Shaw called him that. Maybe he had a debt to repay to the man, but he didn't necessarily like him all that much. And he certainly didn't intend to stick around forever. He'd started to leave, more than once, but somehow every time he thought he might Shaw and Emma concocted a reason that he should stay before his idea of leaving had even fully formed. Sometimes he stayed even though he didn't want to, and for the life of him he didn't know why. It was unnerving.

"Send me to do what?"

Shaw shrugged a bit and grinned. "Make sure the place is up to snuff."

It was hard to figure out what Shaw really was. What purpose he considered his life to have. Erik knew, of course, that he had an intense interest in the people known as mutants to those who knew about them at all, and that he had done research under the Germans during the war, though not exactly for the Nazis. Shaw, actually, despised the Nazis, which was one thing he had going for him in Erik's book.

Then there was the fact that he had rescued Erik from the camps, which was the whole reason there was a debt in the first place. Most of Erik's young life was a blur to him-all hazy and uncertain after he and his family had been dragged off to the camps. He had never seen his father again, but he could still see his mother hitting the carpet in a pristine office, a bullet in her chest. He could see the men who had been holding her, and he hated them. He remembered their faces clearly. What he didn't remember was the face of the man who had pulled the trigger.

Shaw said he couldn't remember it, or much after that, simply because it was too traumatic. He'd been a boy then. It had been too much for his young mind, and he had shut off. Erik didn't really remember anything after that, specifically, until years later when Shaw had taken him away from the camps and raised him. Not that there had been much more raising to do by then, but it didn't matter. Whatever had happened to him in the camps, Shaw had taken him away from it, and Erik would always owe him for that.

He still didn't know why Shaw had done it. There was nothing remarkable about him. He was just one more Jewish boy subjected to the horrors of the Nazi regime.

"I saw something in you, Erik," Shaw told him sometimes. "You're special. Very special. Never let anyone else tell you differently."

Erik didn't quite buy it, though sometimes he did think he felt something in himself...something different. Something important. But just when he thought he was on the verge of knowing what it was, it slipped away again. Every time.

But anyhow, now Shaw, as a leading authority on mutants, had become something of an advisor to the American government, as far as Erik could tell. Maybe not even just to the American government, but Shaw didn't discuss many details of his work and goals with Erik.

"Up to snuff?" Erik repeated uncertainly.

"Well the whole point of the facility's existence is, of course, to make the mutant situation safer for everyone-for precaution. And, true, to safely examine their powers. I think the Americans are hoping to gain something useful from them. But I'm also afraid they're going about things quite the wrong way in some areas. I'd like a full report."

Erik snorted, not sure what could be done even if something Shaw didn't agree with was going on there. He didn't think the man had any real authority, but maybe he was wrong. "And what sort of problem to do they think they're having?"

"Ah! Yes. The problem. It's the telepath. They think he may be up to something. Planning some sort of escape at long last, perhaps. We can't have that, of course. I do hate that he apparently will not cooperate and make things easier on himself, but he's the key to the whole operation."

"So I've heard." The facility in Virginia was something Shaw had spoken to him about in the past. He had seemed extremely excited about the Americans' acquisition of the telepath more than a year ago, and about the new facility. At first Erik thought it was the prospect of being invited to the facility for research, but then even when Shaw was invited he never went. He observed from a distance, keeping tabs on everything and treating the whole thing like a pet project.

Though what the point of the project was, Erik couldn't begin to understand. Shaw's mind was a mystery to him. Sometimes he talked about wanting to help mutants, but he endorsed this facility and the Americans' plan of action. It was all too confusing for Erik, and he had long since begun to suspect a hidden agenda.

But every time he started to piece something together, he would lose it, just like he could never really leave and he could never really figure out what it was inside of him that wanted to be let out.

Erik crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the deck's railing. "And just what could I do about it if he is planning something? It isn't as if I would know."

Shaw held up a finger. "Ah, but you will. I want you to befriend this man, Erik. Find out what he's cooking up. Or if he's cooking anything up at all. To be honest I hope he isn't-not just because it would be troublesome, but because it will make things so much worse for him if he is. Perhaps if he is you can head it off at the pass. Prevent any real trouble."

"Why in god's name would he even talk to me? He's been held against his will for a year and half now, and I'm all but with the people who imprisoned him." That was another reason that a good part of him wanted out. Away from Shaw. Erik didn't know exactly how he felt about mutants, but he knew it seemed wrong to simply lock them up with no explanation. Maybe some of them were dangerous, true...but wasn't there anything else that could be done for them? And what about the ones who meant no one any harm? After being thrown into the camps in Poland with the rest of his people, the idea of this facility just didn't sit well with him. And that was an understatement.

Not that he had ever told Shaw this, of course.

Shaw glanced across the deck at Emma, and they shared a small smile before Shaw turned back to Erik and gave him that look that Erik hated-the same one Emma gave him quite often, that seemed as if they knew something he didn't.

"Just trust me. He'll talk to you."

Raven tossed and turned in her bunk, but sleep would not come. She was tired, but then again she was always tired. It was nothing compared to what her brother went through, and she knew that, and she never said a word.

Not that sleep was ever easy. The mattresses were thin and hard, but they were better than nothing. They were better than the cold floor Charles had slept on those first two or three months, before they'd been moved here, to the new facility. They'd been separated most of that time too, but when they were moved Charles had insisted that they remain together if anyone wanted any more cooperation out of him at all.

So they shared a cell now. There were two to a cell through most of the facility, but as far as she knew she and Charles were the only cellmates not of the same sex. After growing up together they didn't mind. They were just glad to be together after almost three months of hardly seeing each other at all. And at least they had been decent enough to provide a screen that sectioned off the corner where the toilet was, so too much awkwardness was avoided.

Though, of course, if Charles wasn't so damn important to them they wouldn't have gotten even that. They wouldn't be together at all.

Charles...

Raven was trying to shut out the soft sounds coming from the bunk below her, but it was too hard tonight. She really and truly could not sleep, and her brother's muffled crying was not helping. It made her heart ache, but more often than not she left him alone because she knew by now that he preferred it that way. He was always upset when they brought him back from using Cerebro. Even as long as this had been going on, as many mutants as he saw, as many as were here...Charles never stopped caring. Each batch of coordinates betrayed was a fresh blow to him.

Tonight Raven couldn't bear it. It had to be bad this time-usually he tried not to actually cry, because he knew it worried her. Usually he was simply despondent for the rest of the day, and attempted to at least seem as if he felt better by the next day. But tonight, even though he was no louder than he ever was when he couldn't help but cry a bit, she knew he was more upset. At times his breath caught, and he let out a strangled sound as he cut off what would have been a much harder sob if he'd let it be.

Raven crawled out from under the thin covers and dropped to the floor, and tonight Charles didn't try to tell her to go back to bed. That all but confirmed her suspicions as she climbed into his bunk with him and sat against the wall the long side of the bunks were flush against. Charles wordlessly pulled himself upright and sat beside her, and Raven wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held him closer as he let his head rest against hers. He didn't apologize for waking her, either, as he usually did. But then again he probably knew that she had never been asleep.

"I'm slipping, Raven," he whispered. "I can't control it as well as I could before, when I'm in Cerebro. I-I...I'm too weak too often. I can't react as quickly." He sobbed quietly. "There are children here now. There weren't children here six months ago."

"How many got through this time?" she asked gently.

Charles grimaced. "Four. Four, Raven. God, I...usually it's one, sometimes two, but never four. It's never even been three. Not in the same session."

"It's not your fault, you know. I keep telling you that. It's not your fault you don't have the energy you need."

From what Raven knew nearly everyone here had been dragged off to the labs at least once-except for the children. And then, she had never seen the labs. She knew Charles had to have something to do with that, but he wouldn't admit it.

Still, for Charles the labs were a constant of life now. After each session in Cerebro they took him, and they had a week, sometimes two or more...before they had to leave him alone to get his strength back to use Cerebro again. Sometimes they took him only during the day, or only during the night, sometimes it varied...and sometimes they took him and Raven didn't see him again until that week or two was up. That was always when it was worst.

The meaning of worst varied, too.

"They want to know just how much I can do-and they want to be able to control me," Charles had eventually admitted to her. "They know I could do much more than simply find other mutants for them."

Raven knew it, too. She didn't want to think about what the government could do with Charles if they controlled him completely. And every time they took him away she was terrified that he would come back broken, and that much closer to being under their thumb. Not that she thought he was weak...anything but. But he was her brother. She couldn't help but be afraid of those things happening.

"But...four," Charles was saying now. "I-I...it's too many, Raven," he said quietly. "One is too many. Four..." And he looked away deliberately, and that told her ahead of time that she wasn't going to like what he was going to say. "Four just makes me wish I were brave enough to really do the right thing." It was barely a whisper.

Suddenly her mouth was dry. "What are you talking about?"

He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "It would be easy," he continued quietly, as if she hadn't spoken. "With my powers, it would take hardly any effort at all. Just...shut down all brain function..."

Raven shook him. "Charles, stop it!"

He snapped out of it, and he shuddered as he took a deep breath, and his eyes closed as he leaned into her again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that. You know I wouldn't leave you."

"You'd better not," she replied gruffly.

Charles turned his head enough to kiss her cheek. "I won't."

"If you so much as bring that up again I will kill you myself."

He chuckled a bit, and Raven wished she could tell whether or not it was only empty sound. But he had become much too good at hiding everything away.

Emma dropped him off at the airport in Miami, and then Erik was on his own-single suitcase in hand. He packed light.

A car met him at the airport on the other end, and took him to the Virginia-based facility. It was bigger than he'd imagined-all concrete and metal and fences and bars and walls and guard towers. It did not look friendly.

The car pulled up outside the main entrance, and a slightly plump older man of average height and white hair came out to meet him.

"Erik Lehnsherr? Sebastien Shaw's associate?" he asked.

"That would be me," Erik answered blandly. He didn't particularly like the title the man had given him.

The man held out a hand. "Agent Stryker, CIA. I run this facility."

"How wonderful for you. Where am I staying?"

Stryker blinked. "Inside. We have a room for you."

"Would you care to show me to it, or will I be carrying my suitcase on my first tour of the place?"

The man frowned and motioned to the entrance. "Follow me."

Erik was led inside, where Stryker tracked down the first agent he could find. "MacTaggert! Show Mr. Lehnsherr to his room; let him put his suitcase down and freshen up if he needs to. Then bring him back to my office."

The auburn-haired woman Stryker had called to turned, and Erik was almost certain she narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. "Of course," she deadpanned. She turned on her heel and started walking, and Erik supposed he was supposed to follow her. Eyebrows climbing to his hairline, he did just that.

"Well, is that a chip or shoulder or were you born like this?"

Agent MacTaggert didn't turn to look at him as they walked-quickly-through the facility's cold gray corridors. "You work for Sebastien Shaw?"

"I'm not quite sure 'work for' is the right phrase."

"But you're here on his behalf."

"So it seems."

"And from what I've heard recently, Shaw is, for all practical purposes, one of the people primarily responsible for this." This seemed to indicate everything around them-the facility, the mutants held here, and everything in-between.

"From what I know, yes." Not that he liked it. Any of it.

MacTaggert shrugged and walked a little faster. "Then we have nothing to say to each other."

Erik began to wonder, but he didn't say anything until she led him into what seemed to be a small residential hallway-rooms for those who lived on base or sometimes needed to. She opened a door down at the end, and motioned inside.

"Here. I hope you'll be comfortable." But she didn't mean it in the slightest.

Erik stepped inside and looked around, and when he didn't see any cameras he turned on the light to be sure. Still nothing. When he glanced back out into the hallway MacTaggert was looking at him strangely, but at the moment that wasn't important. When he determined that no-one was in the hallway he pulled her inside and shut the door.

"Let go of me! What are you doing!"

She tried to hit him, but he caught her wrists. "I need to talk to you! Calm down!"

She glared at him, but she did calm down, and he let go of her. "What?" she bit off quickly.

"You don't like this any more than I do, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" MacTaggert asked, suddenly wary.

"This. All of it. The mutants being held here."

"And experimented on?" she quipped.

Now Erik frowned. "What?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know that."

"I heard something about studying their powers, supposedly safely..."

MacTaggert snorted. "Safely my ass. The scientists here do whatever the hell they want to them to find out whatever they want. More often than not they might as well be torturing them-" She cut off, and swallowed hard, but quickly began glaring again to cover up whatever emotion had just attempted to come out there.

Erik looked at her for a moment. "I'm right. You don't agree with what they're doing here." When she didn't answer he continued. "You can tell me. I'm on your side."

"Or you could be a spy for the agency, trying to root out problems." She reached behind her to open the door, and she backed out of the room. "I'll be out here when you're ready."

"Fine..."

There was a bathroom at the back of the room, and Erik didn't take long. Agent MacTaggert showed him to Stryker's office, but he said nothing on the way there. Once she had point out the office all she said was, "Good day, Mr. Lehnsherr."

"Erik."

She looked at him for a second or two, but she didn't answer. She turned quickly and walked away, and he didn't stop her. She might make a decent ally here, but he didn't want to push her. Not that he had any sort of plan...in all probability he would do what Shaw wanted and leave, really. But if he changed his mind he might need someone on his side.

Stryker showed him through the facility quickly-the section where the mutants were kept, with its long hallways of cells and shorter hallways of high security cells specifically designed for the dangerous mutants they held; the labs, though there were no mutants there at the moment, only scientists; the cafeteria of sorts, where the mutants not in high security were brought in groups twice a day to eat. From the brief glance Erik had of it the food did not look incredibly appetizing, and it didn't seem as if they were given much of it.

The mutants looked like prisoners. They wore the same jumpsuits, but brown instead of orange. The shoes were black. Black and brown together. Emma, though she never wore anything but white, still cared enough about the rest of fashion that she would have had a heart attack. They were given clean clothes twice a week, Stryker mentioned. Plenty enough for mutants, he said.

Erik hated the way the man talked about them, as if they weren't people. If he hadn't particularly cared so much one way or the other before, he was certainly beginning to care much more now.

Their last stop was the the yard, which could hardly be called that. There was no grass, no basketball goal. Only concrete and high walls and barbed wire and a few lonely tables. Stryker took him outside on a small balcony from the second floor administration offices that looked out over the yard.

"We have a similar exercise room inside, smaller. We have some who can fly in various fashion; they're not allowed outside, of course. They're brought to the indoor room. There's a smaller outdoor yard, too, for the younger ones."

"Younger ones?"

"Under 16." What? "There aren't so many of those."

Thank goodness for small favors.

"If they're only mutants, why do they need exercise?" Erik asked, throwing the man's own logic back in his face. It was a test, and Stryker failed it miserably.

"Even dogs needs to be walked," he shrugged.

Erik tried to not to let the anger show on his face, and for a moment he thought he felt the metal railing tremble under his hands. Either he was shaking, or he was imagining things, and he let go of it and quickly changed the subject.

"Did Shaw mention the other reason I'm here?"

"Of course. The telepath. He mentioned you might be able to help us find out if he's planning something."

Erik was about to reply when a sudden commotion broke out in the yard below them and saw several guard closing in on a small skirmish, with one guard already at the center of it.

For the first time he realized that not only did the guard carry guns and batons, but whips. Smaller ones, maybe, but they were whips. What the hell was this, the middle ages?

The guards cleared the other mutants away from the action. In the middle of it all were two guards and two mutants-an angry one with longish, shaggy reddish hair and another with more well-groomed dark brown hair who seemed to be attempting to reason with the guards. He was shorter than his friend, smaller, but somehow commanded more of a presence.

Or he did until one of the guards shoved him to the ground and lashed out with a whip.

Erik's mouth dropped open. "What...?"

"As I said, they're mutants. Sometimes they need a little extra incentive. Perhaps a bit barbaric, but it gets the job done. We added the whips about a year ago, and it improved behavior considerably." Stryker nodded to the mutant who was being whipped as they spoke. "That's the telepath. One of the few it didn't improve at all is him. He's always making trouble."

The mutant didn't cry out as the whip bit into his back; he didn't even curl up much, really. His face was a mask of pain, but mostly he kept it down, so it wouldn't be obvious. The whole thing seemed to scream that this man was used to what was happening to him, and that was sickening in itself.

Erik's jaw clenched, and he had to force it to loosen before he could speak. "It didn't look like he was making trouble. It looked like he was trying to get that kid out of trouble."

Stryker shrugged. "Yes, well, whatever you want to call it."

Was he really hearing this? What was wrong with this man? Erik looked back down to the yard, where the guards were finally leaving the telepath and his friend alone. The other mutant, the boy, the friend, rushed to his side and helped him up, and as he got to his feet Erik could see the lines cut into the back of his jumpsuit from here. They were already bleeding.

"Won't he get medical attention?" Erik asked sharply.

"There are general medical supplies in the bathrooms at the edge of the yard and and at the ends of the hallways where their cells are. What they need, they can get to. They can take care of themselves. We get away with having fewer medical personnel that way. Saves money." Stryker talked for another minute or two, about the yard and the schedules and other things, but Erik wasn't really listening

He wasn't even holding the railing now, but it shook behind him as he looked at Stryker, and he began to wonder if maybe Virginia had tremors. He had no idea one way or the other. But by the time it happened Stryker was already heading inside and didn't seem to notice.

Erik moved to follow the agent, reluctantly, but something made him look back before he went inside.

When he looked back the telepath was looking right at him.

When guards walked away, laughing, Sean was at his side in an instant.

"Charles, man, you didn't have to do that! Man, Raven is gonna kill me...If they'd gotten me it would've been okay, you know. I can take it."

Charles grimaced as Sean helped him up, the fresh wounds already stinging sharply. "Perhaps, but that doesn't mean I would like it."

"You think we like this? You always gettin' yourself in trouble over stuff that doesn't even matter?"

"It does matter," Charles insisted. "I don't want any of you hurt because of me." Sean was one of the few who knew the truth, about Charles and Cerebro and how all of them had gotten here. He had been here almost since the beginning, and had become a close friend.

Charles tried to know everyone he could, but he and Raven still had their own smaller, tightly-knit group. Him, his sister, Hank, Sean, Darwin, and Alex Summers. Though Alex they rarely saw anymore. When he had proved unable to control his powers well he had quickly been put in high security. Charles kept tabs on him telepathically.

"You've got to quit sayin' that," Sean frowned. "Besides, that was totally my fault just then. I mean, maybe I was just yelling at the guy and didn't really mean to knock his hat off with a mini shockwave, but I was still yelling at the guy. I mean, you'd think they wouldn't get so upset over nothing, but I was still yelling at the guy..."

"Yes, and why were you?"

"I caught that one makin' fun of Hank earlier. You know, the whole feet thing. You know he hates that."

"Ah...gallant of you, Sean, but you shouldn't provoke them."

"Yeah, well apparently not provoking them provokes them too. Look where it gets you every other week." His voice dropped. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right..."

Raven ran up to them from the other side of the yard, finally able to make it there now that the crowd around the commotion had dissipated.

"Charles!" She stopped a few feet short and just looked at him, shaking her head. "Again?"

"I'm all right," he said quietly. His back protested otherwise, but it didn't matter. He would heal. He always healed.

Raven let out a breath and closed the distance between them to take his arm. "Come on...let's get you cleaned up." Her tone was resigned, but loving, and Charles didn't know what he would do without her.

He was about to go with her when something immensely heavy hit him over the head. Or that was what it felt like as awareness hit him quite suddenly of a mind he had never felt before. A strong one.

"Wait wait wait-"

Charles stopped and brought his fingers to his temple, and the moment they touched and he focused on what he sensed it was like another blow to the head. "Ah! Ah..." The memories that flooded his mind were even less pleasant than his own of the past year and a half that he had spent here. The thoughts, emotions, the pain...the power.

And much of it the owner was not even aware of himself.

Charles gasped and turned quickly to look for the source, and if Raven and Sean hadn't held him up he likely would have toppled over.

He found the man on the balcony. He was heading inside, following Stryker, but at the last moment he looked back.

For a brief moment they locked eyes, and Charles felt it all again-everything he was and everything he didn't know about himself. He pulled in an unsteady breath and almost reached out telepathically, but then the newcomer turned quickly and went inside.

"Charles?" Sean was asking.

Raven was scowling. "Charles, what? Is something wrong?"

Charles let out the breath. "My god. He doesn't even know."

"What? Who? Who doesn't know what?" Raven pressed.

"Erik. He doesn't know he's one of us."

Chapter Text

By the time Erik had arrived at the mutant facility it was already late afternoon, and after what happened in the yard he was confused and a little shaken, and thought it best to just get to sleep and worry about the best course of action in the morning.

But he thought about it, all night long; it permeated his dreams. The way these people were treated here and how it wasn't fair and what was it that made him ache so much about it? Besides the fact that he had been locked up like this before? That should have explained it, but there was something else at the back of his mind, at the edge of his consciousness...and he just couldn't get at it. He couldn't explain it. He knew this place horrified him already, so much more than he'd even thought it would, and he didn't precisely know why.

When he woke all he could think was that...maybe if he could talk to the telepath...

Idiot. Of course he could. He'd been sent here to play friend. To play secret sympathizer. To find out if the man was up to anything. If he snuck into the cell block or went into the yard with the guards no one would say a word.

If he really was what he was playing at, the CIA bastards didn't have to know. Shaw didn't have to know. Shaw wasn't even here, at that. For once he was grateful for the trust Shaw seemed to have in him.

Erik dressed quickly, checked the time, and found the prisoner cafeteria. He wasn't hungry, himself. He didn't see the telepath or the red-headed one there, and he thought perhaps it was just the wrong time; their group wasn't here yet. So for most of the morning Erik stayed there, hovering around the edges of the room and blending in with the guards. The guards all knew that he was there for a reason, if Stryker hadn't told them why, but they knew to let him be.

In the second or third group to come in Erik spotted the red-haired shaggy-headed boy that had been with the telepath the day before. He came in with a blue-skinned girl, a dark-skinned boy, and another skinny boy with glasses who was taller than the rest of them.

But no telepath.

Finally he resorted to asking one of the guards, because he refused to go to Stryker if he didn't have to. The man repulsed him.

"Isn't the telepath in this group?"

The soldier shrugged. "Yeah, think so. Why?"

"Then where is he?"

The young man scanned the small crowd of mutants. "If he ain't here they probably got him in the labs today."

Wonderful. Erik frowned and nodded minutely in thanks before leaving the cafeteria. He didn't quite glance back, but out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the redhead and the blue-skinned girl watching him, and the others with them turning to look, too.

He'd been given an I.D. badge for use in the facility, and he'd been told it would get him just about anywhere. He felt silly wearing it on his shirt and had it shoved in his pocket instead, but all he had to do was pull it out and growl at anyone who tried to stop him anywhere. Hoping it would get him where he wanted to go, Erik charged directly-or as directly as he could, trying to remember which way to go-to the entrance of the laboratory wing of the facility. Yesterday, Stryker had led him right through.

Today, the heavy doors to the wing were locked, and several scientists milled about outside. More were crowded into what look like a room of monitors and computers to the side of the entrance, watching something and working at the consoles.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

A woman a few steps away, writing furiously on a tablet as she read from a screen, answered absently. "Tests."

"What kind of tests?"

She gave him a withering look. "The kind we're here to do. If you're the new guy you're an observer, or so we've been told. Observe."

Erik rolled his eyes and shouldered his way into the room to get a look at the screens. On the main one was a video feed from a large lab-one with too many wires and gadgets and..everything, for Erik's liking. It took him a moment to find what was so interesting about the feed. He almost didn't see the one thing in the room that wasn't cold and metal and hard and science.

In the middle of the room was an exam table, several monitors around it that must have been feeding the data to the ones here that the researchers were so interested in. The table had no linens or pillows or even a mattress. It was just a metal slab.

On the metal slab, connected to the monitors by electrodes clinging to his forehead and neck, was the telepath.

Erik blinked. "Where is that?"

"The far side of the wing," the woman answered impatiently.

"Why all the way over there?"

The woman moved away and refused to help him any further, and a man nearby picked his head up from his console with eyebrows raised.

"The cocktail we gave him takes away most of his control for a while," he said, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious. "It's great for the readings we need but you don't want to be too close when he's like that. We figured that out the first time."

There were mutters of assent, and several of the scientists grimaced and rubbed at their heads.

Hmm...

"Of course," Erik said dryly, and that was all he said aloud. On the inside he said quite a bit more, but likely it would have bruised the researchers' sensitive ears.

And then he pushed his way out of the monitoring room and went for the doors. The scientists were so engrossed in what they were doing that they didn't notice he was opening them until he had the lever up and a crack in the door.

"Hey!" someone called out. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going in there."

The man who had given him the straight answer, finally, charged out of the room with the screens. "No, you're not."

"I'm supposed to be an observer, you say? So I'll observe from closer then."

"You don't want to be in there."

"What if I do?"

"I'm just giving you fair warning."

"Thanks for the warning." Then Erik pulled the doors open far enough to slip inside, and closed them behind him.

He waited for a moment, but no one followed him or tried to drag him back out. He snorted. Cowards.

Erik realized that he had no idea where to go except 'to the other side of the wing' but he started walking, hoping something would give him a clue. He'd search every room if he had to.

And why was he doing this again?

But he wasn't willing to get into that with himself just now, so Erik pushed on. Besides, once he found the telepath maybe the man could help him. Could help him uncover just what was going on in his head that he could never quite unravel. Once he trusts me.

I already trust you, Erik.

He stopped short. The voice in his head was warm and inviting, if a little strained, and maybe a little forceful, loud, but Erik supposed that was the fault of the what the scientists had done to him.

What...? Who are you? Where are you? Erik thought.

The voice said nothing else, but suddenly he knew where to go. He just knew. He made his way to the lab he'd seen on the monitor without any trouble. And when he got there, somehow he knew that the control panel for the camera was by the door, on the other side of the light switches, and he knew how to turn the blasted thing off.

So he did.

When he did Erik felt immediately better, and he reasoned that he could explain it all away to Stryker later as part of the plan to fool the telepath into trusting him.

The telepath.

Erik looked to the center of the room and found the exam table man on it was on his side, facing the far wall, and he was wearing the same torn jumpsuit from yesterday, though Erik could see bandages through the tears now instead of the wounds.

He could also see glimpses of older scars criss-crossing the man's back.

Erik winced and drew closer, slowly, but as he did the telepath doubled over and cried out. He cried out more than once. The fingers of one hand went to his temple, and he seemed to be trying very hard to do something but Erik couldn't tell, really, because he couldn't see his face.

And then Erik jerked to a halt and doubled over too, shouting, and everysinglememoryhe'deverhad flashed through his mind, at blinding speed. The good ones, all of the bad ones, and flashes of...something else. Other things. Worse things. Were they his memories? They couldn't be this man's memories. They were set where his were set, but different. But...then it was gone.

All of it was gone and Erik dropped to his knees, exhausted, but wait no he wasn't exhausted. The telepath was exhausted, he suddenly understood. The man gave one more cry and went limp on the table, panting, though occasionally he moaned.

"What...what the hell just happened?" Loss of control...was this happening because of what the scientists did?

"Yes," the man on the table managed finally, breathlessly. "I'm very sorry. I tried to prevent that and failed. I have very little control at the moment, I..." His voice was strained, as it had been when Erik heard it in his mind before. "It's taking everything I have not to continue to overload your mind."

So what he'd been trying to do before the flashes from Erik's memory assaulted him was trying to keep that from happening-trying to stay out of Erik's head.

Erik climbed to his feet, a little unsteady. "I can't fault you for trying, then." He paused. "Is my being here hurting you?"

The man rolled onto his back, carefully, wincing, and let out a heavy breath. "If you want honesty, which I know you do, then yes, however...it's all right. I believe you wanted to talk to me. In further honesty, I wanted to speak to you as well." He let out another breath and gasped once or twice before his eyes closed for a moment. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid this is not a good time."

Erik backed away a few steps, looking the man over, trying to figure out why he would just lie there and let them to do this to him. He wasn't strapped down...oh. That was when the saw that the man's other wrist, his left, was caught in a pair of handcuffs that were snapped to a ring on the side of exam table. He could lie on his back and on his left side, but turning onto his other side wouldn't have worked unless he wanted his arm stretched behind him. He wasn't going anywhere.

The man grimaced again, and Erik frowned. "Exactly how is my being here hurting you? Just because it's hard to control anything? To keep from hurting me?"

"That, and it is very difficult to stay out of your memories. I'm sorry, Erik, but I'm afraid I know relatively everything there is to know about you now, and many of your memories are not pleasant."

Erik moved around the table so the man didn't have to lie on his injured back to see him, and the telepath rolled onto his side again. The gentle stare he gave Erik seemed to bore right into him, and Erik shuddered inwardly. It was unnerving, but...somehow beyond that he didn't mind that this man knew his past. He didn't know if the telepath was projecting the feelings, or helping him to feel more comfortable with him...

I'm not.

"Would you please not do that?"

"Sorry."

But he knew that he could trust this man. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew it.

"I...I'm afraid I don't know a thing about you."

The telepath cleared his throat, and his eyes opened again after being squeezed shut for a moment or so now. "I'm sorry...where are my manners?" He held out his free hand, though he was still panting tiredly. "Charles Xavier..."

Erik warily stepped closed enough to take the offered hand. "Erik Lehnsherr. Though I suppose you knew that."

"I did. And please, Charles is fine." When Erik released his hand the telepath-Charles-brought it back to his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Erik just watched him for a moment, wondering what he should do now or if he should go.

"You don't hate me," he said instead.

"Of course not...why on earth would I hate you?"

"I'm on their side. Human. I all but work for the man who suggested this facility should exist. I'm here to make sure it's everything it should be."

Charles smiled behind his hand. "All of that is only on paper, my friend. It means nothing." He lowered his hand and opened his eyes again, and looked Erik in the eyes once more. The startling blue of the telepath's eyes didn't help with trying to suppress the shiver that ran up his spine. It wasn't a bad shiver...but it was there.

"I know who you are, my friend, and there is so much more to you than you know. I know that I can trust you because I've seen you, Erik."

Erik swallowed. Part of him wanted to get into that and part of him didn't, and the decision was made when Charles's face pinched again, and he couldn't help but grimace and give a small, frustrated moan.

"We ah...we can talk later. You're in pain."

"I'm all right," Charles answered, eyes clenched shut again. "I only...have to control it."

"Which is hard for you right now." Erik started to look around. "Is there any way to reverse it?"

Charles shook his head. "No, it...has to wear off. It will be another few hours."

"They leave you in here for hours like this?"

"It's become commonplace, I'm afraid. Not that this is the only test they've done. Only their most recent fascination."

"I don't want to know, do I?"

He shrugged. "They can take my control...but they cannot keep it for themselves. It frustrates them."

"They want to be able to control you. Really control you."

"Yes."

Erik went to the cabinets, searching for anything useful. Finally he found a bottle or two with names he recognized. "Here..."

"What?"

He didn't say anything until he'd found a syringe and pulled what the bottle claimed was a normal dosage into it. "I found something. I don't know much, but I do know that this is a mild sedative." He went back to the exam table with the syringe and held it up. "It should knock you out long enough for the effects to wear off. But it's up to you; I don't know what they gave you or if it's wise to try this."

Charles was blinking quickly, maybe trying to focus, or remember. "I uhm...I don't think it would be dangerous. The first time they tried this they were unprepared...and so was I. It...it did not go well. They sedated me and it seemed to have no ill effects."

Erik nodded, and his gaze fell to the handcuffs keeping the telepath chained to the exam table. He pulled at them to no avail, but as he let go of them in frustration they suddenly screeched in protest, and the one around Charles's wrist popped open loudly.

"What..." he frowned. "Either I broke it or it was defective."

Charles was laughing. Why was Charles laughing? It was strange but it wasn't that funny.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing...later, my friend."

My friend. It was the second time Charles had called him that, and...and it felt good. Now that he thought about it, Erik didn't know if he had had a real friend since before the camps, as a small child. And he didn't remember any of them now, if he'd had them even then.

"Uh huh..."

"I did know where the key was."

"I see. Can you tell me where I'm supposed to bring you?"

"Bring me?"

"I'm not leaving you here."

Charles's eyebrows went up. "I doubt that anyone will be very happy with you."

"They can be unhappy with me." He paused. "Wait...if you saw everything in head, then you know why I can do this. You know what they want me to do."

Charles looked up at him unblinkingly for a moment. "Yes."

"Tell me again why you trust me?"

The telepath smiled weakly. "Later." He groaned again and pressed his hands into his eyes. When he relaxed a little Erik felt the presence in his mind again, giving him the information he'd asked for. He saw the way to Charles's cell, and who he should expect to find there.

"You may need to be wary of Raven. She can be a bit...protective."

Erik scowled. "After what you've been through here, I can't blame her. And I don't even know the half of it, do I?" Charles's face told him he was right, and he sighed and helped Charles pull the electrodes from his he looked down at the man's arms. Charles knew what he was going to ask, and held out his left as he gingerly rolled onto his back again and lay still.

"I'll warn you; I have absolutely not idea what I'm doing. I may hurt you trying to find a vein. I'll probably hurt you."

"I know. It's all right."

Erik huffed a bit. "Just so you've been warned."

It didn't go as badly as he was afraid of; Charles gave him what he'd seen of the scientists' methods for injecting correctly, and he only failed once before he found a vein and was able to inject the sedative. It didn't seem to bother Charles much. He winced, but nothing more. Erik had to remember that he was probably used to being treated much more roughly, and when he did it saddened him.

Charles started to drift off, and just before he was out Erik heard the voice in his mind again. Thank you, my friend...

Then Charles was unconscious, and there was abrupt silence. Erik hadn't realized how much telepathic background noise Charles had been unintentionally projecting until it was gone.

What have I gotten myself into? He couldn't help but feel, watching Charles Xavier sleep, that something had just begun. Something bigger than he could fathom right now. Something important.

But this was no time to worry about it. Erik gently lifted Charles's head and shoulders and got an arm under him, and as he did he could feel the scars he'd glimpsed when he arrived here. Oh, Charles...

Erik already knew that this man had not gotten a single one of them from trying to protect himself.

He slid his other arm under Charles's knees and picked him up. He was much lighter than he looked, and suddenly Erik was angry again. What was he, 5'7", 5'8"? He wasn't tall, but he wasn't short either. He should have had more weight than this. He should have been heavy-hard for Erik, who was only a few inches taller, to carry-but he wasn't.

Erik carried him from the lab and back out towards the exit from the wing, realizing that he should have asked Charles if there was another way out. It was very likely that there was still a gaggle of angry scientists right outside that door.

And that, of course, when when the door burst open and Stryker stormed in. He stopped short when saw Erik standing there, holding his telepath.

"Mr. Lehnsherr, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking this man back to his cell."

"I'm afraid you're not."

Erik glowered at him. "Have you forgotten why I'm here? I thought we'd gone over that."

Stryker glared right back for a moment before it dawned on him, and his expression slowly lost its vehemence.

"I see..." He closed the door behind him. "You think this will make him trust you?"

"It's a start. And if you want to assist I would suggest that you have them leave him alone for a while. Let him think I have some sort of influence."

Stryker thought for a long moment. Finally he agreed, though reluctantly. "All right...I can see the sense in that." His eyes narrowed. "But do not begin to think that you do have any influence, Mr. Lehnsherr. I make the decisions here."

Erik smiled indulgently. "Of course you do. Now if you'll kindly open the door and get out of my way..."

Stryker still wasn't happy, but he did open the door and he did get out of the way. he followed Erik out, waving the irate scientists off and staying behind to keep them from following. Erik made his way through the compound to the wing Charles had indicated that his cell was in. He had to go up a level, and there were doors and guards and checkpoints and Erik simply flashed the badge and growled, as he'd done before. Some of the men hesitated a bit longer, seeing as he was carrying the most valuable prisoner in the entire facility, but since he was going in and not out they didn't hesitate too long. They let him through.

The cell was one of those that had no bars or windows, and when he went over what Charles had given him about the cell's other occupant it made sense. If she could shapeshift, they didn't need easily fooled young guards looking in, seeing someone would shouldn't have been in the cell, and letting her out. He wanted to know how Charles had ended up with a blue sister, but there would be time for all of that later.

The hall guard on duty opened the cell for him, and held a weapon on the young woman inside to keep her in check as Erik stepped in.

Raven-her name, apparently-glared at him when she saw her unconscious brother in his arms. "Who are you and what did you do to him? You don't look like the research type."

"I'm not. All I did was put him under so the effects of what they did to him could wear off. I didn't hurt him." He looked past her to the bunks against the wall. "Which one is his?"

"The bottom one."

Erik nodded and took a step, and Raven hesitated but she got out of his way to let him put Charles down. "He'll be fine."

"He's never fine," the young woman answered tightly.

He looked at her sharply, and winced as he back away. He didn't know how to answer that.

As soon as he was far enough back for Raven's comfort she moved quickly to the bunk and to Charles's side, where she pulled the thin blankets up to his shoulders. As Erik left he saw her push his hair out of his face and kiss his forehead before sitting down on the bunk at his feet.

If only he'd had a sibling like that.

But he was grateful that Charles did now.

When Charles woke his legs were numb, but he didn't have to wonder why. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and he smiled to himself as he sat up with some difficulty and called to his sister. "Raven..."

He called out mentally and she jerked awake, and when she moved his reclaimed his legs.

"Mm! Huh? Oh...sorry."

Charles rubbed at his calves to return circulation, chuckling a bit. "How many times have you fallen asleep down there?"

"You know I don't like it for you to wake up alone." After being in the labs, she meant. Just a few times, at the beginning, he'd woken panicked and shouting after being brought back from the labs unconscious. Since then, whenever he wasn't awake when they brought him back she refused to leave his side until he woke. Often she sat against the wall at the foot of his bunk, her legs draped over his feet, and she fell asleep that way.

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Enough," she smirked. Charles sat up and moved to sit beside her, and as he did Raven looked toward the door. "The guy that brought you back...was that the guy?"

"It was," Charles nodded.

"Have you told him anything yet?"

"Good lord, of course not. We've only just met. Granted, I feel as if I've known him my entire life, but he doesn't have that advantage. I don't want to scare him away immediately."

Raven was quiet for a moment. "And he's a mutant? And he doesn't know it? How is that even possible?"

"A thorough re-ordering and covering-up of his childhood memories, and constant suppression-covering up small incidents that might indicate to him that he is different, and things of the sort. His mind has been tampered with so often it is a wonder it isn't permanently damaged."

Charles sighed. "I have to help him, Raven. The memories he can't access are not pleasant, but...he deserves the truth. He deserves to know who he is."

Raven looped an arm through his and held on for a moment. "I just hope you know what you'r getting yourself into."

Chapter Text

Something hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt and he couldn't get away from it and what was a gate doing here and his mother was on the floor and Shaw was grinning. Why was Shaw grinning?

Erik jerked awake with a small gasp and lay staring at the ceiling in the room he'd been given, wondering again just what the hell he'd gotten himself into even as he tried to decipher the images he'd seen in his sleep.

Nightmares, Erik?

Erik looked around quickly, sitting up, but he relaxed when he realized he recognized the voice. Charles?

Yes.

Oh...are you all right?

I've just come to not long ago and I am feeling much better, thank you. I was checking on you and found you dreaming. It was not pleasant; I hope you don't mind that I woke you.

It's fine. What WAS all of that, anyway?

That you were dreaming about? Charles hesitated before he answered. It's part of the reason you wanted to see me in the first place, really. You want my help.

Erik blinked and let himself drop back onto his back on the bed. So you know that already.

I told you, Erik; I know everything about you now.

He snorted aloud. And that doesn't sound strange at all.

Charles chuckled, and Erik could hear it in his mind before the answer. I'm sorry. But anyhow...I AM willing to help you, Erik, if you are willing to understand what that will mean.

What do you mean?

I mean that...I'm afraid it's so difficult to explain. You feel as if there is something wrong with you, yes?

Yes. Or maybe not so much something wrong as something strange. But even I don't even know what I mean half the time. I just feel like there's something I should know, or...

It's complicated, as I said. I suppose we agree on that much.

I guess we do. Erik sighed and sat up more slowly this time. I suppose you have some idea what it is, then?

I know exactly what it is.

Would you care to enlighten me?

Charles didn't answer immediately. I don't know if it would be wise to tell you this way. I should see you.

And how are we going to manage that? Perhaps thanks to what they think I'm doing no one would be too suspicious if I came to see you, but-

There is no camera directly in our cell, Erik. There are only cameras in the hallways. They are holding too many mutants here to afford bothering with cameras in every cell. No one would see or overhear us, and if anyone did suspect anything I could take care of that. Though granted I don't know when you would be able to come that I would be here in the near future. They will likely take me tomorrow as well-for the next few days, really. This round of tests has just begun...

Erik could feel the telepath's apprehension-something Charles probably hadn't intended to let through-and he winced. They won't come for you. I've convinced them to leave you alone for a while-to convince you that I have some influence, though I don't but...anyhow. They won't come for you. Not for a few weeks, at least.

The intense relief Erik suddenly felt from Charles made his throat tight.

I see, Charles thought faintly.

Erik swallowed. God, Charles, what else have they done to you that I don't know about?

Any emotions he was feeling from the telepath abruptly cut off, as if Charles realized what he'd been doing and hadn't meant to, as Erik had suspected. It isn't important, he answered evenly.

Seeing as he had just met the man and really had no right in intrude anyway, Erik let it drop. Should I come tomorrow then?

Yes, I suppose you should. I will explain everything that I can then, and you can decide if you do indeed wish my help.

Fair enough, Erik agreed. He laid down once more and determined to at least attempt to sleep again, though he paused in mid-movement when he realized he didn't know how to end a conversation with a telepath.

Charles chuckled in his mind once more. Good night, Erik.

"What was that last night?" Raven asked on the way to breakfast the next morning.

"What do you mean?" Charles asked innocently.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're going to ask me that? I'm back in my own bunk trying to sleep and all of a sudden I get hammered with enough emotion to bulldoze a rainforest. Then it's gone just ask quickly. What the hell?" Anything completely out of the ordinary like that worried her, mostly because she was always afraid it had something to do with what they were doing to him in the labs.

"It was nothing," he said quickly. "I was speaking with Erik; that's all." Raven continued to stare at him as they reached the cafeteria and took their place in the line, and finally he relented, letting out a breath before he answered. "He told me that he's convinced them not to come for me for a while, at least-part of the plan to make them think he is doing what they think he is, earning my trust..."

Relief. It had been relief. It had been so sudden and strong that she hadn't been able to determine what it was when it hit her the night before. Raven swallowed once, trying to cover the intensity of her own relief. At least she understood now.

"That's good," she sighed. "Hmm. Maybe I do like this guy."

Charles chuckled a bit, and they made their way through the line and found their usual table at the edge of the room at the far side, where Hank, Sean, and Darwin already sat. They sat down to greet their friends, but Charles, predictably, excused himself after only a moment and took his bowl of horribly cooked oatmeal with him.

Raven didn't have to watch him to know where he was going. The children that were here were let outside in a different yard, but everyone shared the same cafeteria. It was the only place they really saw the kids, and Charles didn't let a meal go by without checking on them-and, often, giving the younger ones most of his food. They were growing and coming more into their powers and needed more to eat, but of course those who ran this place didn't care. They kept everyone alive and left it at that. Usually Raven and Hank and Darwin and Sean sent some of theirs with him too, to give to them.

He didn't always go to the children's tables alone, but Raven could no longer go with him every time. She didn't have the capacity for it. It broke her heart to see them there at all. The youngest was only six years old, Charles had told her. He had also mentioned before that, at the very least, they were cared for a bit better than everyone else, given things to entertain them, but...it didn't change the fact that they were imprisoned.

They loved Charles. The younger ones hung on him when he went to see them and for some of the older ones it seemed it was the only time they smiled, they looked so somber the rest of the time. She knew he tried to encourage them, to give them hope...and often it worked. They saw the same quality about him that had led her to trust him instantly as a child, that had kept her from leaving after he took her in for fear of being rejected again, eventually. She had never feared that from him, and from the moment she'd met Charles his smile and his welcoming heart had assured her that life could be better.

And it had been. Until now. But that wasn't Charles's fault, no matter how much he blamed himself.

Raven looked up in time to see her brother kiss a small girl on the cheek and stand to come back as she let go of his neck. Charles made his way by the wall back to their table, and she watched him. He was bringing his bowl back with him, but she could already see that it was empty. She scowled to herself, and was upset further when he paused and leaned into the wall for a moment. He pulled in a few even breaths, a hand over his stomach, and that was the face he made when he was nauseated from hunger and the smell of even the badly-cooked food in the cafeteria wasn't helping.

She recognized it easily enough by by now. Even though all of them helped in keeping the children well enough fed, Charles still ended up eating much less than the rest of them no matter how much they tried to make sure he kept himself fed. Raven thought quickly back over the last two or three days and could not specifically remember him eating anything.

Damnit. It was so hard to keep him in check. To make sure he got enough. He was always sneaking off across the cafeteria when she wasn't looking, telling her he'd eaten something first before giving it away even when he hadn't...damn him. He ate enough to keep himself alive. He wasn't that stupid but...just damn him.

"Guys..." she said simply.

The boys stopped talking and glanced at her, and she nodded to the wall where Charles had paused. His eyes were closed at the moment, thank god, and he didn't notice them looking.

When they turned around again they reacted wordlessly, upending what they hadn't eaten yet into Raven's bowl, which she slid into Charles's place at the table beside her.

"Thanks," she said quietly. They only nodded, and went back to whatever they'd been talking about before. Hank, on her other side, reached for her hand beneath the table and squeezed it. She squeezed back, and kept hold of it, and he didn't mind. He never minded.

Charles didn't notice the bowl at his place until he'd sat down, and even then he just stared at it dumbly for a moment before looking up in confusion.

"Eat," Raven insisted. "I can't remember the last time you had what passes for a full meal here, and I don't think you've eaten anything at all in days. Besides, it's not so bad today. Not that you would know, since you didn't even try it."

"I-I'm all right. I was going to eat something tonight..."

She glanced down at his lap. "Charles, your hands," she said softly.

He brought them up, half clasped together, and they were trembling. It wasn't horribly noticeable if you weren't really looking, but Raven looked. They did that when he waited too long to eat. Charles just looked at them for a moment...got that faraway look he got sometimes, as if wondering how everything had come to all of this. "Yes, well..."

"Do you want your new friend seeing you like that?" He'd told her Erik was coming sometime today. "Besides, if you're going to help him you'll need what strength you can get. That starts with food, you know."

Finally Charles looked up at her. "Did you...?"

"I ate. We all ate."

He nodded in understanding. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but he had to be sure, every time. They all knew by now not to try to get away with going a meal without eating at least something themselves; he would not eat unless they had.

Finally Charles let out a breath and pulled the bowl toward him. "All right...you're right...thank you..."

"For someone so smart you are really, really stupid," Raven told him, not for the first time. Charles only responded by squeezing her shoulders and kissing the side of her head. She scowled again once he'd let go of her. "Don't kiss me when I'm mad at you."

"Why are you angry with me?" he asked between bites.

"One, you still won't eat enough. Two, you got yourself in trouble again the day before yesterday and I'm still ticked off enough about that. I should rip Sean's ridiculous hair out."

"Your hair is bright orange and his is ridiculous?"

Raven slapped his arm, fully intending it as a playful gesture, but he grunted in sudden pain and bent forward over the table. She'd forgotten that the whip had caught his upper arm this time.

"I'm sorry!"

"-s all right," he said quickly. He was still holding that arm gingerly. The others were looking at them now.

"You okay, man?" Darwin asked.

"Charles?" Hank questioned.

Sean's eyebrows went up. "What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'm fine. Bumped my arm; it's fine..."

Hank and Darwin didn't look convinced, and Sean was looking guilty again. Good. He was a good kid, but he just...well, he was himself.

Raven didn't say anything else until the boys finally focused elsewhere once again. "How's your back?" she asked gently.

Charles paused with a spoonful of food halfway to his mouth. He shrugged minutely with the shoulder that hadn't been slapped. "It wasn't so awful this time," he answered evasively.

The feigned nonchalance made Raven too angry-not at him, exactly, but in general-to say anything in return, so she didn't. She left her brother alone to eat and leaned into Hank's shoulder instead. Hank took the cue to let go of her hand beneath the table and slip his arm around her shoulders instead. She let her head rest on one of his, and stayed that way until the bell rang and everyone filed back toward the cell blocks.

The only thing that made her feel any better was remembering that clean clothes would be waiting for them when they made it back to their cells this morning, and tomorrow there would be showers. That always helped, just a little, and at least Charles wouldn't have to meet his new friend again in that torn jumpsuit.

"I heard about what you did yesterday."

Erik stopped in his tracks and turned to find Agent MacTaggert behind him in the corridor, hands on hips. "Did you now?"

"Is it true that Shaw and Stryker want you to get the telepath to trust you?" Most people wouldn't have noticed, but she twitched, just slightly, when she said 'the telepath,' as if it were unpleasant to speak of him that way.

Erik noticed, and he glanced about for anyone who might overhear before drawing closer to her and answering. "It's true, though that doesn't mean I'm doing it for them." He paused, hoping what he was about to add would help her to understand that he truly was on her side. "And his name is Charles."

That seemed to do the trick. MacTaggert startled, and then her eyes grew sad and her expression weary. "I know. But no one else seems to care anymore."

"But you care."

She glared suddenly. "Do you? Or are you taking your cover too far?"

Erik looked at her intently, not knowing how else to convey that he was serious. "I care. What I'm pretending is that I'm pretending." If that made any sense. It had sounded less ridiculous in his head.

Agent MacTaggert narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, but finally she relaxed. "Thank god."

Erik nodded curtly and relaxed a little himself, and then allowed himself to give in to a bit of curiosity. "I take it you knew him before all of this?"

She nodded. "For a little while. But I haven't been able to speak to him since they turned on him-locked him and his sister away. I see him, sometimes, from a distance, when I'm actually on base, but he won't even reach out to me telepathically. I know he's trying to protect me, so they won't know I don't agree with this, but...god, it gets so frustrating. Every day I hate it that he's in here. I hate it that they're all here. I hate it that I can't do anything."

"Why can't you?"

"I have no power here. I'm on a field team. I'm just the CIA version of a grunt. I couldn't really do anything any more than you could."

"You're sure about that?"

MacTaggert shrugged helplessly. "Yes. No. I don't know! All I know is that I've been looking for a way for a year and a half now, and I haven't found it."

And the more he thought about it-all of it; the labs, the whips, the awful food, the children, Charles and his back and god the emotions that had seeped through when he'd talked to the telepath last night-the more Erik knew he really did want to find a way to free the mutants here, as much as this woman did. "We'll find it."

"We?" she questioned skeptically.

"If he cares about you as much as it sounds like he does Charles may be incredibly unhappy at my involving you, but I have a feeling that every little bit is going to help."

"Help with what?"

Erik grinned, though he wasn't quite sure where it came from. "We're going to do it. We're going to get these people out of here."

When he sensed Erik nearing their cell Charles was glad he'd eaten. He was more awake, more focused, and he would need that if he was going to explain to Erik what was happening to him in the best way possible. Without scaring him off.

But Raven had known that, of course. Sometimes he couldn't help but remember what she'd said to him-thought to him-that night so many months ago, when they were left together after the first time he had been forced to use Cerebro against his will.

You've taken care of me all my life, Charles. My turn.

Sometimes it seemed it had been her turn ever since.

When the door opened Charles was already on his feet, pacing a bit because he had nothing else to do. Raven was up on her bunk. Erik stepped inside and dismissed the guard, and the man left and shut the door.

"Erik," Charles smiled.

Erik smiled back a bit, face otherwise unreadable. "Well, I'm here."

"Indeed you are. Please, sit down." He motioned to the bottom bunk, because there was nowhere else. "I'm afraid you really might want to be sitting down when it comes to what I must say."

Erik looked at him warily for a moment, but then he relented and crossed to the bunk. He didn't sit yet, however, as he glanced up at Raven. "I don't believe we've officially met." He held out hand. "Erik Lehnsherr."

Raven slid forward on her bunk to take the offered hand and shake it briefly. "Raven. Or rather, freak overprotective shapeshifting blue adopted sister of the telepath, as I'm known these days."

Charles snorted in amusement. "Thank you for that." Their flat at Oxford, Raven ready for bed, Charles studying as always. "You are my oldest friend." An eyeroll. "I'm your only friend." A smirk that became a laugh. "Thank you for that." What had happened to THOSE days?

Erik smirked and sat down, but he quickly became serious again. "You know what's wrong with me, then?"

Right to the point, then. But then again, he knew Erik had wanted an answer to these questions about himself for some time now. "There is nothing wrong with you, my friend. However, there is something quite wrong with your mind, though that is not your fault either."

"Meaning what? What do you mean by something wrong with my mind?"

"I mean that I am afraid it has been tampered with. Quite a bit, and quite often." Charles let out a breath and came to sit on the other end of the bunk, pinning Erik with his eyes. "Your past is not quite what you think it is, my friend."

Erik frowned. "But...how would that even be possible?"

"Only a telepath could do such a thing."

"There are others like you?"

"There must be. There is at least one, and I believe her name is Emma Frost."

Erik blinked. "Emma?"

Charles nodded. "Think about it, Erik. You've always felt that she knows things that she should not, much too often. Someone with telepathic ability has reordered your memories and continued to keep that reordering under maintenance. It would have to be someone who is often around you. The only conclusion I can come to is that Ms. Frost is this person."

"But that would make her a mutant, Charles. Wouldn't Shaw know?"

"Of course he would. He does. The fact is, Shaw is a mutant as well."

"Wait...what?"

Charles shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm moving too quickly."

"I'll say. What are you saying has been changed about my memory? I think I ought to understand that first."

Charles winced. "Well, it's...it's the fact that you don't remember the worst of it, Erik, and I'm sorry, but there are crucially important details there. Details that...not knowing them...you don't know who you are, entirely."

"What kind of details?"

"I'm not certain how much I should tell you before you've agreed to let me help you uncover them..."

"It's all right. Just tell me. I trust you."

Charles looked at him for a long moment, thinking. One thing he could not tell Erik before he knew it for himself was that he was a mutant as well.

"I uhm...much of it has to do with Shaw," he said finally. "Shaw and what happened to you in the concentration camps. It isn't that you don't remember much of what happened to you there thanks to childhood trauma. It's that it was covered up."

"By Emma."

"Yes."

Erik still looked extremely skeptical. "And what sort of mutant is Shaw, supposedly?"

"That is difficult to determine from your memories alone-"

"Memories I can't access right now."

"Exactly. And I can't quite determine exactly what his power is, but I'm afraid he is quite powerful. And why this scheme of having other mutants rounded up and such I can't fathom...He is betraying his own kind, beyond the fact that all of this is wrong to begin with," Charles scowled.

Erik was frowning. "I did always think he had some sort of ulterior motive to his interest in mutants. It never occurred to me he might be one."

"He hides very well, and he has Emma to fix any mistakes. And then there is you..." It didn't make any sense why Shaw would hide Erik's powers from him, especially after all of the trouble he had gone to to strengthen them. Killing Erik's mother hurting him hurting him not leaving him alone ever ever ever...Charles repressed shudder.

"What about me? Why would he need to cover up anything in my memory? Or have Emma do it, or...whatever."

"Considering everything he did have covered up, I would love to know the answer to that question myself. But I'm afraid only he knows."

Erik stood quickly, running a hand through his hair. "And you're completely serious about this. All of it."

"I would never lie to you, Erik. You have been lied to enough in your lifetime."

Erik stopped the pacing he'd begun long enough to give Charles a long stare. "You know this sounds insane."

"I am aware of that, yes."

"As long as you know..." He started to pace again. "What, then? What are you proposing to do? Use your own powers to uncover it all?"

"Precisely."

"And what would I gain by that?"

"I've told you; there are things there that you should know..."

"About what?" Charles didn't answer, and Erik glared at him. "I want to help you, Charles. All of you. I want to do what I can to get you out of here, and I'm not going to agree to let you uncover more bad memories that will just get in my way unless there's a good reason for it. Unless whatever it is I don't know could be useful I need to be focused-not trying to assimilate the amount of new information I think you're trying to tell me there is."

"Not new information-old information."

"Whatever the hell it is!"

He was losing control of this, quickly. "I believe what it is that you don't know about yourself may be quite useful, actually."

Erik scoffed. "How? And I still don't understand why Shaw or Emma would bother to hide anything in the first place."

"To keep you complacent for the time being, perhaps. To make you more easily controlled. It's the only theory I have at the moment."

"You didn't answer the other question."

"How there could be anything truly useful hidden away in your memory?" Erik only nodded once, and Charles didn't know what to say then. Would he have no choice but to spit it out? He stood, exchanging a glance with Raven. "Erik...are you certain that you want me to simply tell you? It...it's quite likely you will not believe me."

Erik threw his arms up in the air. "I don't believe any of this, Charles. I trust you, and I want to, but I don't. You might as well."

Charles studied him for a moment, the torn expression and the desperate need to know and not to wonder anymore. And...oh. Now that he focused on Erik more closely Charles realized that he already had an idea where this was going. It was never something Erik had considered before, but he was wondering now. That thing, that something that he had always felt inside him...what if...just maybe...

"It's power, Erik," Charles said quietly. "You have power. You are one of us. You're a mutant."

Erik stared at his new friend for the longest time, trying once again to figure out if he were joking.

"I'm...a mutant."

"A rather powerful one at that, or you could be. Don't let it go to your head."

I'm trying to KEEP my head.

Charles smiled, and Erik supposed he'd heard that.

It was crazy. A small part of him had begun to really wonder, though he wouldn't let himself think it, but...the handcuffs. The railing.

"Metal," he said suddenly. And just saying it, a part of him felt a little more complete.

Now Charles was really grinning. "Yes. Exactly. Thankfully you have been away from Shaw and Ms. Frost long enough for those incidents to have happened. If Ms. Frost were here they would have been covered up or glossed over already. It's what they've been doing to you for years, Erik."

Oh god...that was why he'd never left. He'd never known why he didn't just go. Emma. It had to have been Emma, all this time. Covering up the small things that happened that would have told him he was different. Keeping him confused, complacent, as Charles had suggested-unable to leave...

Erik started to back toward the door. It was too much.

"I..."

"Erik? Erik, it's all right." Charles must have sensed it, because he continued with, "We do not have to do this right now. You can let me know when you're ready."

Erik nodded quickly.

"Erik?" Charles started toward him, but Erik held out a hand.

"Wait. Wait, just..." He had to get...somewhere else. He had to think about this before...

"All right..." Charles was saying. He looked concerned, and Erik didn't know how to tell him not to be.

"Just give me...I'll be back," Erik managed.

And he left.

Oh god. It was all true, wasn't it? He'd known Shaw was probably crazy, but...and Emma. And he was a mutant? It was impossible to believe, but it felt right at the same time.

Erik got little sleep that night, tossing and turning and trying to think. When he did sleep he dreamed-dreamed he was locked up here like everyone else, with the mutants. The other mutants. Because he was one of them. Or he dreamed that he was still free but they knew. All of them knew he was one of them, and they hated him because he was free.

He woke sweating, wondering why his dreams had ended with his mother reading him a story as a child, her gentle cadence lulling him to sleep. During those many days...the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help...(ESV)

Erik slipped into the cafeteria that morning on a mission, and as he lingered by the wall again he found Charles and Raven and their friends across the room and caught Charles's eye.

Erik? Charles asked.

If I let you do this nothing is ever going to be the same again, is it?

No...I don't think it will be.

Erik swallowed, but not out of fear. I'm ready.

Chapter Text

Soon after everyone returned to their cells from the morning meal Erik came, like he had the day before. But this time it was with a purpose in his step, and there was no awkward, uncertain moment once the hall guard closed the door behind him.

"What do we need to do?" he asked.

Charles motioned to the bunk again. "For this it really would be much better to be sitting. I'm afraid it will not be a pleasant experience for either of us."

Raven, arms crossed where she stood a few paces away, frowned. "What does that mean?"

He winced apologetically and spoke to Erik in answer. "As I've told you, many of these memories that you cannot access…you aren't going to like them."

Erik frowned, but he sat down, on the edge of the bunk, his body taught with apprehension—not the kind that would keep him from wanting to do this, but the kind that meant he was still a bit wary. "And you're sure you can do this?"

Charles nodded, but inside a small part of him wondered if he was strong enough. But he would not tell Erik that, and certainly not Raven. Meanwhile, he turned to his sister before he sat. "Raven, whatever happens…don't be alarmed. There may seem to be reason to be, but I promise you we will both be all right. However, going through some of Erik's memories will be…difficult." It was so hard to choose a word. His heart ached when he thought of the past Erik had been through.

Then he sat, facing his new friend, and Erik swallowed. "Are you absolutely certain about this?" Charles asked first.

Erik nodded; he did not back down. "I'm sure." He paused. "How is this going to work?"

Charles settled two fingers against his temple and let out a breath. "All you need do is relax, and try not to fight me. Part of you may want to, and Ms. Frost may have put up defenses. In any case, remain calm and let me take care of what may come up. You will have enough to contend with in the memories you'll be regaining." He wanted to make this as easy for Erik as he could.

Another nod from Erik, and Charles nodded in return and closed his eyes to focus initially, to push in past the barriers in Erik's mind to the things that he didn't know. Charles could get in easily enough, but when he began to attempt to draw the memories out the barriers hardened behind him like ice and sudden pain lanced through his skull. He grunted, doubling over, but with his free hand he braced himself on the thin mattress and kept his focus.

"Charles—!" Two voices at once. Raven and Erik.

"Defenses. Just as I thought," he breathed, swallowing. "I can get in but they are keeping the memories from getting out. I'll have to break them. I…give me time."

Hands on his arms. Another on his shoulder. Dimly he knew Erik was bracing him and Raven held his shoulder from behind, but he was in Erik's mind now. He let go of the memories he'd tried to extract and focused on the barriers instead. A weak point. He needed a weak point.

He found it, in a memory Erik still had half of—a shard of pain that cut through and lodged in the wall, and he didn't want it to be the first thing Erik remembered of what he had lost, but there was no choice. Outside the wall, the Nazi soldiers and Erik's mother and the gunshot and his mother falling…inside the wall, the image of Shaw holding the gun. Shaw smiling. The coin. The reason any of it had happened at all. Pushing at it all pressed the wall, bent it, and Charles forced the memory and its hidden parts out into Erik's conscious mind, leaving a gaping hole in the barrier.

I'm sorry, my friend; there was no other way…

Charles had not left Erik's mind, but his eyes opened, and he saw Erik gasp, saw his eyes grow suddenly damp. Shaw. SHAW?

I'm sorry…

In the memory that played Erik the child and his frantic thoughts. Mama Mama please get up…

The pain. The anger. In reality Erik's hands tightened on Charles's arms and he had to let go, had to grip the edge of the bunk instead, breathing hard as he fought tears. Charles felt his own already, on his face.

In Erik's mind the memories drifted to the rift in the barrier, but it would take time to for them to spill out on their own. They didn't have that. Charles went back for them, pulling them to the opening, widening the tear as he pushed and pulled them through.

What Shaw had done to him. Strengthening his powers. Forcing him to learn to control them. And it hurt it hurt why did it always have to hurt? Charles tried to keep some of the pain and anger back, tried to give Erik only what he needed. But everything was so entwined that it was nearly impossible, and he could not sift through every moment for things that could be left out.

And if he did that he would really be no better than Shaw and Emma Frost, would he? So he stopped trying, very reluctantly, and just let Erik have the truth back. What he could do. Who he was. What he'd felt before Shaw had met Ms. Frost and she had taken Erik's identity from him.

The small incidences—the things since the camps. The things that would have told him he was different. He gave Erik those back, too.

Everything…he hid everything, Erik despaired, and there was a tear or two on his face now too, though Charles wasn't certain just when that had happened. Kept me from leaving without me even knowing it. He caged me just as well as everyone here is caged. And the bed began to shake under them, and Charles was a bit afraid Raven's bunk might fall on their heads.

Erik, calm your mind…

He killed my mother! Flashes, everything else Shaw had done beyond that—so much more, and Erik knew it now. Soon his face was streaked with tears and he was shaking, and Charles rushed to calm him as the beds lifted off of the floor and Raven gasped and pulled at his free arm, trying get him to move off of the bunk and away from Erik. He gripped her arm in return to steady himself, but he didn't move.

Erik, please! You MUST calm your mind!

"He killed my mother," Erik repeated aloud, angrily. "He killed my mother…" And the bed was still shaking, the metal groaning, and they still were not on the ground. It was only a few inches, but it was alarming enough.

"Charles!" Raven shouted.

"Erik, stop!" Charles said forcefully, aloud and in his mind. "I know that you are upset, and I'm sorry, but you must CALM YOUR MIND."

Erik blinked and looked him, chest heaving, and the bed dropped back to the floor and Raven, unbalanced, dropped into it behind her brother.

"Charles…" Erik trailed.

Charles let out a breath and did what he could in Erik's mind to soothe him, to smooth over the memories that were now bumping into one another as they floated free for the first time in years. Then he extricated himself, and let his fingers fall away from his temple, and swallowed. Suddenly he was dizzy, but he gripped the edge of the bunk again and fought it.

"I am so sorry, my friend…"

Erik sobbed once. "It was all him. He killed her, he…he did things. To me. To draw out my powers…"

"I know," Charles answered softly. "I know, Erik." He tried to reach for his friend's shoulder to squeeze it, and he found it but by then everything was fading out around him and his head ached and…oh…still dizzy. His hand slipped from Erik's shoulder and he dropped to the bed, moaning once.

"Whoa!" Raven cried.

"Charles?"

They pulled him back up, and Charles steadied himself and waved it off. "It's fine. I'm fine." He didn't tell them he felt rather drained, but he could feel Raven worrying it anyway.

I'm only tired, he assured her silently.

I know. But you're always tired. I'm tired of you being tired.

So was it was worth it. Charles had to admit to himself that he had almost given up hope, but now…now here was this man who, given time, could help them. Could end all of this.

But it would have been worth it just to have Erik as a friend.

Charles looked paler than he had before they'd begun, and Erik was concerned but it was clear that Charles didn't want any displays of it from either him or his sister. Not even when he made a face and quickly pulled himself up from the bunk to dart around the screen that must have hidden the toilet and sink. Erik and Raven heard retching from the other side, and Raven grimaced.

"Great. There goes what he did eat."

The way she'd worded that was not comforting. "What?"

She glanced at him as she stood and quickly looked away again. "Never mind." She went to the screen but didn't go around, crossing her arms uneasily. "Charles? Are you okay in there?"

Charles coughed one last time, spit, and was quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat and answered weakly. "I'm fine."

Erik looked at Raven, eyebrows up in question, and she sighed and came back to lean against the edge of the bunks before she spoke softly. "It's been a while since he's done something that intense," she explained with a sigh. "Technically we're not allowed to use our powers here, obviously. He could do more but he's been too afraid to. If they catch him or suspect him of trying to influence anything they've said they would hurt me, or our friends, and he won't risk that. So I guess he's out of practice."

Erik's stomach turned, and he grimaced. He didn't know what to say to that, but he knew he was grateful for what Charles had done for him. It was going to take some time to assimilate it all, but he was grateful.

When Charles emerged from behind the screen Raven went to him—offered support in getting him back to the bunk that he refused. "Raven, really; I'm all right." He sat down again and let out a breath before he looked up at Erik once more.

"Are you all right, my friend?"

Erik didn't know how to explain, so he reached toward the wall. A small bolt unscrewed itself from the metal near the floor and came to him. He held it floating and spinning slowly above his hand, staring at it in awe and wondering how he had lived without this.

"The memories are…they are painful, but…I feel whole now. I know I wasn't before. This is what was missing."

He glanced at Charles, and the telepath was smiling at him, happy for him. Erik smiled back, just a little, and let the bolt fall into his hand. It made no difference whether or not it went back into the wall, and he pocketed it. He sat for a moment, quiet, and he knew both Charles and Raven were watching him. But a thought was taking shape in his mind, and he had to be sure it made sense.

"Charles…"

"Hmm?"

Erik frowned in concentration. "My powers, they…you were right. They could be useful. More than useful." He looked at Charles quickly. "I could get all of you out of here. This place is mostly metal. Metal and concrete reinforced by metal. If I could practice, strengthen my powers further…" Charles was grinning a bit now, and Erik raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you helped me?" Part of him ached at the thought that maybe this man had reached out to him only to save his people—their people, he had to remind himself—but he wouldn't have blamed him.

"I helped you because you needed my help. Because I wanted to," Charles assured him quickly, scattering those fears. "The fact that you might be able to help us crossed my mind only later."

And Erik knew he wasn't lying.

But he didn't know what to do now, and Charles must have picked up on it. "You should go," he said gently. "You have quite a lot to sift through."

Erik nodded absently. "Right…" He got up to go, but remembered something before he reached the door and turned back. "Charles? I've met someone else here, who seems to be on our side. I believe you know her. An Agent MacTaggert?"

Charles looked up sharply. "Moira?"

"I uhm…actually I haven't gotten her first name yet…" He watched Charles narrow his eyes for a moment, and he supposed he was searching Erik's mind for the face.

"Moira," Charles said again a moment later, this time in confirmation. It came out quietly, sadly even though Charles seemed to try to cover that, and Erik couldn't help but wonder what might have happened between those two.

"You do know her."

Charles didn't appear to know just how to answer. "Yes, I do. Or I did. I haven't spoken to her since all of this…escalated. I uhm…"

"She tells me that's because you've been trying to protect her."

"Well…yes, actually." Charles winced and let out a breath, his eyes pained. "Is there a reason you've brought this up?" he asked uncomfortably. Everything about his body language screamed that he did NOT want to be talking about this, and Erik backed down quickly in remorse.

"I thought I could, but I just wanted to be absolutely sure that I can trust her."

Charles nodded quickly. "Yes, yes of course you can. I promise you that she can be trusted implicitly."

Erik nodded in thanks and turned to go, but Charles called after him.

"Erik…"

Please do not put her in danger. The anxiety in that statement alone was enough to make Erik swallow hard.

I'm not going to make her do anything, Charles. She can make her own decisions.

He looked back again, and all he said aloud was, "When should I come back?"

Charles relaxed a little. "Whenever you'd like. Unfortunately, I don't believe we'll be going anywhere."

Now Erik was the one to make a face. "I feel awful leaving you here. I did before, but knowing now that I'm one of you…"

Charles smiled gently. "Don't feel that way. We need you out there, Erik. You are where you need to be."

All Erik could do was hope that was true.

Erik came most days, and he and Charles and Raven talked, and Charles helped Erik as he re-learned everything he once had about how to control his powers. There was not much they could do in the cell, but Erik practiced elsewhere, apparently—in his own room, outside the base when he could think of an excuse to get away for a few hours…

From what Raven could tell it was slightly slow going with their limited resources and lack of ability to access other venues. But Erik was progressing. It would not be agonizingly long before he was where he needed to be, though it could very well be months.

She didn't mind that so much, though, as she watched how Charles's friendship with the man revitalized her brother with a vengeance. He smiled more. He laughed. More than the weak chuckles that had been all he could muster recently, until now.

He didn't really eat more, damn him, but he looked healthier anyway. And Erik brought food, sometimes—things he could sneak in in his jacket or his pockets; things he could easily spirit away from the personnel dining hall without notice. That helped, some. Charles was reluctant to take any of it at first, of course, because Erik could not help everyone, but he and Raven managed to convince Charles that if this plan of escape was going to succeed that he would need to be at full strength, as well. They didn't know exactly what problems they might run into, and Charles's abilities would be useful too.

Erik and Charles seemed to be well-matched in intellect, though Erik of course had less formal training, but Raven was glad of it either way—that Charles had someone else to talk to. Hank was the only other intellectual person in their inner circle, and he had different interests. With Erik, though, Charles could talk for hours. They often were up late into the night, talking quietly long after Raven had gone up into her own bunk for bed. Soon enough she had become well-used to being lulled to sleep by their soft voices below.

Part of her hoped that Charles could be happier forever, but she should have known it was useless. Maybe Stryker had agreed to keep him out of the labs for a while, but they weren't going to just shut down usual operations. She should have known that. It shouldn't have come as a shock when they came to take him to Cerebro, but it did.

Charles wasn't as surprised as she was, but he fought anyway. More than usual. He never made it easy for them—within reason, of course, because he didn't want anyone hurt because of him—but this time he struggled until one of them outright decked him.

Raven shouted, but she could do nothing with a gun trained on her, as one always was when they came to take him anywhere. That, and Charles had long ago made her promise not to make too much trouble. He didn't want anything to happen to her.

The soldiers pulled Charles to his feet again, and he was unsteady now, and they all but dragged him out and shut the door behind them, leaving Raven alone and upset.

And Erik, with spectacularly bad timing, showed up not ten minutes later. He was already wide-eyed when the guard let him in and left. "He said Charles isn't here? Where is he?" he asked worriedly.

Raven, sitting angrily against the wall, huffed and got to her feet. "Cerebro," she answered shortly.

Erik scowled. "Stryker said they would leave him alone!"

"Yeah, well, apparently that only meant the labs."

"This is ridiculous…"

"Cerebro is how they find us," Raven reminded him. "Did you really think they'd stop making him use it and let themselves run out of coordinates just because you suggested it?"

"Damnit…"

They were both silent for a long moment, until Raven spoke again. "Today isn't a good day, Erik. He'll be depressed when he gets back. He always is."

Erik glared at the floor for a while before he looked up again. "Is there anything I can do? What…I don't know, cheers him up?"

Raven thought about that for a moment. "Not much, anymore. Sometimes I can. You do." She paused; thought again. "He likes chess."

Erik hated the staff and personnel dining hall at the facility. If he could have eaten with the other mutants he would have. But he had no choice about it. He had no choice but to eat in the same room with the likes of Stryker and his minions and the guards who laughed and sneered too much.

He ate alone, and though he had never been one to each a lot before he ate less now. He couldn't eat more. Maybe it was because he was too distracted, focusing on gaining control of his powers again, and sometimes he wondered if it was because he knew that the other mutants didn't get as much as they should. And he had quickly picked up on Charles's behavior—Raven's offhand comments and what he saw when he roamed the edge of the prisoner cafeteria. He was supposed to be observing, after all, so no one questioned him about it.

It was upsetting, to say the least, and he understood now why Raven was ever so concerned for her brother. He understood why she had been so unhappy when he'd thrown up what little breakfast he'd eaten the day he had helped Erik uncover his memories. He understood, too, though, why Charles did what he did.

"I'm responsible for them," Charles had told him one night, as they'd stayed up into the night in discussion. Raven had long since gone to sleep. "All of them. It's my fault that they're here."

"That's a heavy load to bear, Charles. Are you sure you deserve it?"

He grimaced. 'There is no one else to carry it. Even if I don't deserve it that is enough to make it mine."

The bolt Erik had pulled from the wall that first day sat spinning absently in his hand, and he looked at it for a long moment, trying to think of a good way to change the subject—to get Charles away from those thoughts. "You know, more than anything I think I'm relieved that I'm one of you—that I'm not one of them." Charles blinked at him, waiting for an explanation that he probably already knew.

"I never really had a problem being human, but when I thought I was that was all I knew. And then I came here, and I saw all of this…" Erik motioned around them to the cell, the facility—both the passive and the abject cruelty occurring within its walls. "What they're doing to all of you in here is so wrong I'm glad I'm not one of them. I would be ashamed if I was."

"Not all humans are like Stryker," Charles reminded him. He meant Moira.

"Perhaps not, but enough of them are. It makes me wonder what we're going to do when we're out of here. Getting all of you out may be the goal, but what then? Maybe much of the world doesn't know that mutants exist, but they will. And when they do they will hate us and fear us just as much as the people here do."

"You don't know that."

Erik hadn't meant for this string of conversation to turn so dark, but now he had to make his opinion known. "If Americans are no better than Nazis then who is, Charles? Hitler's regime locked my people away, murdered them, and this is no better than that. The conditions may be a little better and they may not be killing anyone yet, but who's to say they won't? They are no better than the Nazis. They only think they are because they don't think they have to call us people."

Charles scowled and stared at his clasped hands for a moment. "I know that, Erik. But…we cannot give up on them. There are other people like Moira out there. I know there are."

And Erik had let the argument stop there for the time being, because as much as he was beginning to hate the humans here…part of him wanted to believe that Charles was right.

Moira was the only thing that made the personnel dining hall more tolerable. When they crossed paths he allowed her to sit with him, and when he wasn't too deep in thought they spoke. Not too much, of course—they could not allow anyone to think that the fact that they were at the same table was more than mere coincidence. But Erik kept her updated on how Charles and Raven were doing.

He had not told her yet that he was a mutant himself. Perhaps he did trust her, thanks to Charles's assurance and his own judgment as well, but it was safer that she didn't know. The fewer who knew, the better. All she knew was that he was working on something—something that could result in the freedom of the mutants here. But they didn't talk about that.

Charles knew he spoke to Moira on occasion, but he had not yet made the choice to send her any sort of message through Erik. Not that he would even have needed to. With her on base now, he could have reached out to her telepathically from where he was as he had the night he'd spoken to Erik in his room. They still did that, sometimes, when Erik was practicing and needed help in focusing.

But Charles still would not contact Moira, from what the woman told him, and Charles would not talk to Erik about any of it either.

All of this was on Erik's mind when he left Charles and Raven's cell that morning without having seen his friend, and Moira was the only person he knew to go to for help in the idea of trying procure a chess set. He planned to do it, somehow, because Raven had suggested it and it was the only thing he could do. He could find Stryker and shout at him about this—about dragging Charles off to Cerebro anyway, despite their agreement—but what good would it do?

Granted, he would probably do that later anyway, but for now he was more concerned with Charles.

Moira already knew that they had brought Charles to Cerebro today. She was looking for Erik while he was looking for her, and they all but collided in the corridor. When Erik told her what he wanted to do her eyebrows went up, and she motioned for him to follow her. "I think I can help you."

She led him back to the residential hallways, and down one with doors much closer together than the ones in the hallway where Erik's room was. "You live on base?" he asked.

"Not all the time. Just when I'm here too late to go home."

"What exactly do you do here, anyway?"

Her expression hardened. "When I'm not in the field helping them trap mutants that I can't help enough? I'm here crunching data. Or whatever the hell else they want me to do."

She stopped at a door that had a number on it—they all had numbers, not names—and she pulled a small key out of her pocket and let them in, turning on the light. The room was tiny—not much more than a closet, really, as bedrooms go.

"It's better than the barracks for the guards," she shrugged, when Erik commented on it. "And I don't really live here." She paused. "I've stayed here a lot more, recently, though. I think I feel guilty for still having a home outside of this place."

Erik didn't know what to say to that, at first. "If I did I think I would, too," he admitted finally.

She looked at him curiously. "You don't?"

He almost said, simply, not anymore, because where Shaw and Emma were would never be home again, as it had been for so long because there was nowhere else. But Moira didn't know about all of that.

"We move around. It's hard to explain."

She shrugged in understanding and moved to a small closet. She dug around inside it for a bit and came up with something in her hands. As she faced him again Erik realized it was a chess set—a smaller, portable wooden one. Or it appeared to be. He could only see the brown pattern of the board. It was closed, folded in half, and he supposed the pieces were inside.

"Here it is. I rescued this from Charles's things after they…you know what they did." She ran a hand over the wood and sighed. "I tried to figure out a way to get it to him for a while, and I couldn't. Nothing presented itself until now." She held out the folded board, and there was rattling from the pieces that were, indeed, inside. "I just hope it helps. He used to love to play."

Erik waited until after lunch so that he could bring food with him, too, and when he made it back to the cell blocks Charles had long since been returned. He sat against the wall on his bunk, and Raven was beside him with an arm around his shoulders though he didn't seem to be acknowledging her much.

When the guard was gone and the door shut Erik went to the bunk and sat down on the edge. He pulled rolls out of his pocket—slightly squashed, but it was still bread—and handed them to Raven, because he was relatively certain Charles was not in the mood to take them from him.

"You had better eat one of those later, at least."

Charles glowered at him for a moment, but then his expression softened and he groaned a bit and let his head drop back against the wall. "I'm sorry. This is not your fault."

Raven started to move off to let them talk, and as she went she tried to hand one of the pieces of bread to her brother. He took it, reluctantly, but he did.

When she had moved Erik unzipped his jacket and pulled out what he'd hidden there. "That isn't all I brought."

Charles just blinked at the chess set for a moment, uncomprehending, and then he let out a sound that might have been a laugh any other day and he almost smiled. "Where did you get that?"

"Moira had it. She thought you might like it back."

But Charles fell quiet again at the mention of Moira. He looked away and half-heartedly took a bite of the roll in his hand.

"Charles…why won't you talk to her? You could do it easily enough." He paused. "I may not be the best judge of emotion, and I don't know what did or didn't happen in the past because neither of you will talk about it, but I can tell that she misses you."

Charles grimaced. "That is precisely the problem."

"How is that a problem?"

"Because we can't…we can't anything, Erik. You know that. If they knew she was sympathetic to us it would put her in danger."

"But it's fine for me to risk my neck?" Erik smirked.

"You have powers with which to protect yourself, and you have cover for appearing to be friendly with us. Moira has neither." He looked away again. "When this began I knew all of that, but we did not know how long this would last. We didn't know anything." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I cut her off to make it easier for her—so that she could move on. She was supposed to let me go."

"She didn't."

Charles seemed to be blinking back tears now, and soon he was blinking furiously to keep them away.

"Charles, things are different now. There's a way out of this. It won't last forever, and you and Moira…"

"Still could not be," he whispered. "She would have to come with us—live on the run as we may have to. I won't do that to her."

Erik let out a breath. "But you could talk to her. You should talk to her."

Charles finally looked at him again, for a long moment, and then he looked down at the chess set in Erik's hands. "Tell her thank you?"

Chapter Text

Two days after Erik had brought the chess set from Moira, Charles lay awake in the early hours of the night that were quickly becoming the later ones. He could not sleep, and he hadn't been able to since then. His arm draped off the side of the bunk, rubbing the smooth wood of the folded board hidden under the edge of his mattress. In two days he and Erik had already gotten in a number of good games. Erik was a worthy opponent, and it was refreshing after going so long without playing at all.

Erik had mentioned that he had thanked Moira for him, but he was still encouraging Charles to speak to her himself. Charles wasn't certain why Erik cared so much about it; he didn't seem the type to whom matters of love meant much—not beyond the love he still harbored for his lost parents and the love he was beginning to have for his new friends here.

But Erik was right, Charles finally had to admit. He should at least talk to her. At least once. He should explain himself, even if she didn't want to hear what he had to say.

Moira…?

He reached out tentatively, before he remembered how late it was becoming.

Charles? The answer was almost immediate.

I didn't wake you up, did I?

No…Charles, is that really you?

He let out a breath. Yes, it's me. Moira…I'm so sorry, I…

Sudden anger—so strong he had to resist the urge to pull away. You're SORRY? You cut me off! Completely! For nearly a year and a half now! And all you have to say is you're SORRY?

I-I was trying protect you…

The anger dissolved into despair. I know…but you could have at least talked to me. At least this way. Moira hesitated. You could have let me know you still cared. If you do.

Of COURSE I still care, Charles answered quickly. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, swallowing. I care. It's…it's why I did what I did. I thought…

You thought what? she asked, more gently now.

I thought that if I could let you go that you would let me go. That no one would get hurt. That you would be safe. I was wrong, wasn't I? On all counts.

He felt the affirmative before she really answered. I'm not letting you go, Charles. And I told you I wasn't going to lay low forever.

I know, I know…I'm sorry…

Stop saying you're sorry. Just talk to me.

I don't know if—

Anger again, more mild this time. Charles, I swear to god, if you tell me you don't know if that's a good idea I will hurt you. Then the anger was gone. I…I don't expect anything, Charles. Not even when this is over, if it's ever over. I just…I'm asking you not to shut me out again.

And how could he say no to that? To her. Charles let his hands fall away from his eyes and blinked back tears. All right…

Thank you.

He swallowed again, closed his eyes now. I know Erik has already mentioned it to you, but…thank you for the chess set. It's helped quite a bit already.

This time the answer was warm. You're welcome.

Charles was happier the next time Erik saw him, and because he'd passed Moira in the corridor earlier and seen her smiling, too—which didn't happen often—he didn't have to wonder what had happened.

"You talked to her, didn't you?" he asked, moving one of his pawns forward. They were sitting on the floor by the bunks, the board between them.

Charles's eyebrows went up, and he paused his study of the board long enough to look at his friend curiously. "And I thought only I could read minds."

Erik smirked a bit. "It's all over your face, Charles. Something's happened, and I'm not so stupid I couldn't figure out what."

"Yes, well…" He let out a breath, expression distant. "You were right. It was wrong to shut her out so completely. I uhm…I suppose I underestimated her." He pinned Erik in his gaze again. "But why on earth were you so adamant about it?"

Erik only shrugged. He didn't really know, himself. He only knew that watching his new friend agonize over the woman had hurt. He cared too much about Charles. Either Charles picked up on that as he thought it, or he didn't want to pry, because he said nothing else.

"Thank you," Charles said quietly, after a moment.

Erik nodded, and that was the end of it.

Later in the evening, after Charles had won the game, he put the board away and sat forward eagerly. "Now. How are you coming along in practice?"

Without a word Erik held out a hand and picked the bunks up, on purpose this time, and above them on hers Raven let out a yelp of surprise. He held them a foot or so in the air for a moment or more, mostly unwavering, before he had to set them down again.

He grinned at Charles's wide eyes. "I'm doing better."

"Gee, thanks for the warning, magnet boy," Raven glared.

Charles glanced up at her before bursting into laughter, and Erik couldn't help but join him.

Charles spoke to Moira on something of a regular basis now. It wasn't the same as being able to see her in person as he could see Erik, but it was better than nothing. He was grateful for it, though he hoped he'd made the right decision.

He hoped it wouldn't just make things harder in the long run.

As a result, after the first time he'd reached out to her they avoided any discussion at all of their feelings. They didn't agree to, really; it just happened that way. It was easier that way—to be simply companions, the voice in each other's heads, no matter how much they both knew that they wanted more.

Having Erik about helped. He came, and they talked of deeper things and played chess and Erik kept him informed of his progress in strengthening his powers. Sometimes Charles offered advice. Sometimes Raven joined in their discussions or insisted on playing the winner just for something to do, but often enough she left the two friends alone.

She seemed to understand how much they needed each other.

Charles could speak to Moira, but Erik was his only tangible link with the outside world—the only thing that gave him hope that they would not be here forever. And Charles knew that he needed to be there for Erik—to keep him grounded, focused; to help him adapt to being himself again and not the man Shaw and Frost had forced him to be for years now.

Part of Charles knew, too, that there was a darker part of his friend—a part of him that only wanted revenge on Shaw and to give in to the pain and anger that resided in the back of his heart and drown in it. A part that could only be kept at bay if Erik knew he wasn't alone…if he knew someone cared.

Charles cared.

How much does Erik talk to you, really? Charles asked of Moira one night. If she was still awake when Erik left for the day—or night, as the case sometimes was when they couldn't stop talking—he and Moira had made a habit of talking until one of them drifted off. Neither of them got much sleep that way, but it didn't matter anymore.

It was better than being alone, even if they couldn't quite be together. Even if they didn't really discuss that fact.

Not a lot, really. The only time we can talk at all usually is when we end up in the dining hall at the same time. He used to tell me how you were doing, but he doesn't need to anymore.

That's true…

He's never been unkind to me; it's just that to him I'm only an ally, I think. You're the one he considers a friend.

That, and Charles knew how Erik was beginning to feel toward humans in general. Moira was still excluded. Erik still trusted her and had mentioned how useful it might be to have her on their side when it came time to execute whatever plan they were going to have, but…the attitude he was forming towards other humans still worried Charles. And he knew that Stryker would not allow this respite from the labs to last forever, and he knew that when it was over it would be harder still to keep that attitude from solidifying—to make Erik believe him that there were humans, somewhere, who were not like most of those here.

Charles wished he knew what he could do about it.

With Charles and Moira on speaking terms again Charles was happier, Raven was happier because her brother was happier, and Erik was able to focus more on improving. Everything settled into an easy rhythm again—easy except for the fact that the mutants were still in captivity. But that was what they had to deal with, and that was what they were attempting to change.

Erik almost grew used to leaving Charles and Raven behind at the end of the day. Almost. But just when it seemed as if it might get easier it was suddenly harder again, then not so hard, then nearly too hard to bear…over and over and over the cycle went. His mind could not make itself up.

Or it couldn't until the day he stepped into their cell and Charles had been whipped again, and that was when Erik was certain that he would never feel any less horrible about it ever again, no matter what Charles told him.

There was still nothing he could do about it yet, but it wouldn't change how he felt.

"What happened?" Erik demanded worriedly.

Raven let out a breath of frustration without looking up. "Sean."

"What?"

Charles was on his stomach on the bunk, t-shirt off and jumpsuit folded down around his waist while Raven cleaned the fresh wounds. Erik could already see that it was worse than last time—the only other time he'd seen it happen. The day he'd seen Charles for the first time.

It was the first time Erik had seen Charles's back bared, and he felt yet another new wave of understanding for how protective Raven was of her brother.

He also felt a healthy new wave of anger.

"I'm all right, Erik," Charles said quickly. He must have sensed that. Erik opened his mouth to respond, but Charles cut off and sucked in a sharp breath when Raven brushed across a particularly bad-looking spot. His fingers twisted in the thin blanket under him.

Erik's jaw clenched. "I really hate it when you say that."

Charles tried to chuckle, but he ended up grimacing instead. "I uhm…ah…I'm sorry." A moment later he grunted loudly, and Raven sighed, face drawn.

"Hold on; I'm almost done."

Erik could tell that she didn't like doing it. She didn't like hurting him, but the wounds had to be cleaned and disinfected before they were bandaged. There was no way to do that without hurting him at least some—not with the limited resources made available to them. And Erik didn't know how often this happened, but it had to be enough. The look on Raven's face told him that the number of times she'd done this was beginning to wear on her.

He could also see that she was not, in fact, almost done. She'd barely begun.

Erik swallowed and crossed to the bunk, where he held out a hand for the gauze and disinfectant she was using. "Let me."

Raven looked up at him in confusion for a moment, but when she realized he was serious she willingly relinquished her place and handed over what she had. Erik sat down on the edge of the bunk where she'd been and took over the job. Raven went to sit at the head of the bunk instead, and took one of her brother's hands—trying not to look at his back anymore, though it was probably more obvious than she wanted it to be.

You don't have to do that, Charles told him silently.

I don't mind.

A pause. Thank you. I know it bothers Raven…

I noticed.

And he could see why it bothered her. It bothered him, but he had long since learned to ignore things like that.

"Now what happened?" Erik asked.

Charles sighed. "Sean, uhm…he got into some sort of altercation in the yard—not with guards, just others in the yard, I think. In fact I doubt the guards would have cared much about it at all if Sean hadn't—ah!"

He jerked, and Erik winced. "Sorry."

"It's all right. Anyway, if he hadn't attempted to use his powers against whomever he was having a disagreement with. And I really don't know what it was about; I wasn't nearby enough then."

"Sean misjudged it. Wrong frequency. He shattered the glass in the windows on the balcony," Raven scowled. "Which, of course, got him plenty of attention, and Charles just had to come running to try to do something about it."

"I keep hoping that someday common sense will get through to these people…"

"It won't, Charles. You should know that by now. And you should know they're not really listening to you anyway. You start talking to them and they're afraid you're messing with their heads. They freak out on you, and this is what happens."

Charles fell silent at that, wincing as Erik dabbed at the wounds. "What else am I supposed to do?" he asked eventually.

"Stay out of trouble," Erik said firmly. It turned out that Raven said the exact same thing at the exact same time, and they looked at each other appreciatively. Charles chuckled a bit, half-heartedly, but he trailed off into a moan.

"Sean is still out there," he said miserably.

"Out there?" Erik questioned. "What do you mean out there?"

Raven sighed. "He really made a mess of things this time. Shattering half a dozen plate glass windows and doors is pretty damn noticeable. He wasn't getting away with that."

"He'll be left in the yard over night," Charles said quietly. "Perhaps more than one night. No food or water."

Erik blinked. Oh. Damnit. Then that was what the line of posts near the edge of the yard was for. He'd thought he'd seen chains on them, but he'd only seen them from the balcony and he'd wanted to tell himself he was seeing things.

Damnit.

Of course Stryker hadn't mentioned that. He hadn't mentioned the whips, either, until Erik had brought it up. Of course he hadn't. Somewhere, some part of the man had to know how cruel he was. How depraved. Some part of the man had to be ashamed of it. Obviously, though, he didn't care. He kept running this place the way he ran it.

"Erik!" Raven said suddenly. At the same moment Charles cried out, jerking under his hands again, and Erik realized he'd been pressing down much too hard, pulling at the edges of one or two of the wounds with the gauze while he wasn't paying attention.

"Sorry! I'm sorry…"

"It's all right…" Charles told him again. Though this time it was more breathless, and his knuckles were white where one hand gripped the blanket and other his sister's hand. Raven was wincing.

Erik swallowed, and growled in the back of his throat. "Damnit; this place gets more and more ridiculous the longer I'm here. I would break every last one of you out of here tonight if I could."

"I know you would, my friend…but we must be patient. We have to be sure that you have the capacity to do what we'll need to you to do. I'm sorry; I know you're impatient."

Erik snorted. "I'm impatient? It seems like you should be the one who's impatient. You're the ones trapped in here. You two have been here longer than almost anyone else."

Charles smiled grimly. "Perhaps that's why I'm not. As long as we have been here, what is a few more months?"

Erik didn't know how to respond to that, so he was silent as he finished cleaning the wounds. He was much more careful as he finished, and managed not to hurt Charles any more than he had to. Everything stung, he assumed, from the way his friend continued to wince and the small noises he made, but there was nothing he could do about that.

When he was done he and Raven helped Charles sit up, and Erik wrapped the bandaging around him and made sure it was firmly taped in place to itself and to Charles.

"Are your arms okay this time?" Raven asked.

"Yes..."

Both of them got up and let Charles lay down again. He let out a small, unsteady breath as he settled into place, and Raven grimaced and kissed his forehead. "I hate you. You're so stubborn."

Charles smiled at her a little and pulled her hand down from his head to kiss it. "I know."

"I told you not to kiss me when I'm mad at you…"

"I suppose you will just have to get over it."

Erik took a step or two away while this was happening, trying to feel less like he was intruding on a private moment. When Raven stood again he turned back to Charles, and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"I suppose this means no chess tonight."

Charles shook his head a bit against his pillow. "On the contrary; I think a game would be quite a good idea just now." He winced as he shifted a bit, and huffed once. "Distraction would be good."

Erik made a face, but he nodded, and he went to reach under the mattress at Charles's head for the board. When he pulled it out he looked at it for a moment, unsure of what to do. "Should I put it on the floor close enough for you to reach it, or…?"

Charles seemed to be searching for a way to answer that. "I uhm…actually I don't believe that would be close enough…uhm…and moving is not…the most comfortable thing just now…"

"You can tell me where to move your pieces."

"If you wouldn't mind…" He seemed almost embarrassed about it, and somehow that bothered Erik to no end.

You shouldn't be self-conscious about this, Charles. Yes, you're stubborn, but what you did you did because you care. What happens to you because of what you try to do…it isn't your fault.

I know that…

So stop it.

And Charles relaxed a little more, though Erik could tell that he was still worried about Sean.

I'll check on him when I leave here if I can, if that would make you feel better.

It would. Thank you.

Charles fell asleep before they finished the game, and Erik didn't want to think about the fact that it was probably from exhaustion from the minor trauma.

"Raven…"

She looked down over the edge of her bunk when Erik called to her quietly, and he motioned to the board. "He's out. Do you think it's safe for me to push this under the bed like this so we can finish it tomorrow, or not?"

"Probably not. Just take a real good look at it before you put it up."

Erik looked at her in confusion. "It won't matter; I'll forget by tomorrow."

"I know, but Charles'll be able to pull the memory out and set the board up like it was."

She said it as if everyone should know that, like it was normal, and now that he thought about it it made sense, when it came to Charles, but still Erik just stared at her for a moment, eyebrow raised.

Raven smirked a little. "I grew up with him, remember?" She rolled onto her back again, and he couldn't see her anymore. "God, do you know how hard it is playing anything with a younger telepath? Since he's been able to help it he's promised not read my mind without my permission but when we were little he couldn't always control it. We couldn't play card games until he was fifteen."

Erik smiled at that, and did what she'd suggested in taking a good long look at the chess board before he swept the pieces off and packed the set away. He was careful pushing it under the mattress, wary of waking his friend. But Charles didn't stir, and he stood and spoke to Raven quietly.

"How often does this happen?"

"Too much…" Raven rolled to her side to talk to him, an elbow propping her up, brow furrowing as she tried to come up with a more accurate answer. "I don't know…seems to average every other week or so," she scowled. "We're lucky when it's longer."

"I assume it isn't always Sean's fault."

"No…definitely not. If it were always Sean's fault he really would be dead. But no, Sean's not so bad—I just want to kill him sometimes."

Erik nodded in understanding, and glanced down at Charles. "Raven…what you said…do you really think they single him out because they're afraid of him?"

She answered immediately, and with conviction—and anger. "I know that's why they do it. Anyone with a brain can see it in their eyes when they start pushing him around. They're scared to death of what they know he could do if he weren't so damn afraid of getting someone else hurt. If he wasn't so much the type that he doesn't want to hurt anyone himself. They need to know they can hurt him—that he's not controlling them."

Erik felt his own jaw clench at that. "Unfortunately, that explains a lot."

Raven glowered into space. "You're telling me; I'm the one who's watched it happen for the past 18 months. Maybe they haven't always had the whips, but before that they just beat him up when they thought he was up to something. It didn't matter to them."

Erik left angrier than he'd been the moment he'd arrived, but he did his best to channel it elsewhere—into trying to think of something he could do. Charles and Raven would not leave here without everyone else, and he wasn't strong enough to get everyone out yet…

And Stryker was about to lose patience with him. That could be a problem.

Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. Throw Stryker a bone and do something else to raise Charles's spirits, too. The beginnings of a plan began to form in his mind, but he had something else to take care of first. He'd promised Charles that he would check on Sean.

Erik snatched a bottle of water from his room first and stuffed in into his jacket, before he headed for the yard. He didn't know if he could get into it at this hour. He'd never checked the security at night there. He'd never had reason to. Granted, he didn't think there would be much, if any, since there was usually no-one out there at night, but he was wary just the same.

But the doors were not locked—there was no reason for them to be—and when he glanced out onto the concrete he saw no guards. There were the guard towers, but he knew that not all of them were manned at night. The one off to the left, at the edge of the yard that the posts were in the shadow of, for instance, did not need to be manned at night. Only the main perimeter towers were manned at night, and it was not one of them.

These people were obviously very confident that no one on the inside could be against them—that no one would be on the side of the mutants. From their viewpoint, he supposed that assumption made sense, but…

Well, it made things easier for him. For now, at least, he was glad of their stupidity.

The empty guard tower at the yard's edge did cast a heavy shadow, though, and Erik was very close to the posts before he could make out which one had a figure huddled at its base. By then Sean could hear him coming, and the young man shifted in apprehension. Erik could hear the chains clanking, and then he could feel the metal that was moving, and he was more easily able to find the right post in the dark without killing himself.

"Who…?" a voice asked.

"A friend," Erik said, crouching beside the figure that he could barely see. "You're Sean?"

"Yeah…who the hell are you?"

"Erik Lehnsherr."

He was relatively sure Sean was blinking at him. "Oh. You're that guy Charles and Raven are always talking about. We've seen you hanging around the cafeteria before."

"How much has Charles told you about me?"

"I know you're one of us and you might be able to help us. I don't know what you can do though."

Well he could easily snap the chains around Sean's wrists in two and bring him back inside, but Erik didn't say that. Doing that would only cause much more trouble, and the boy was in no real danger out here, anyway. The temperature was moderate, and a day or two without food would not kill him. Charles had known all of that. It was why he had only asked Erik to check on him.

"It doesn't matter right now. Are you all right?"

Something moved—a shrug from Sean, maybe, before he spoke. "I'm fine. I think they said something about just one night…they'll let me off here when my group comes out tomorrow." He hesitated. "Have you seen Charles?"

"Yes," Erik answered tightly.

"Is he…okay? It looked pretty bad this time…"

"It was bad this time," he snapped. He had to pause to calm himself. "He'll be all right. He wanted me to check on you if I could. So I'm checking on you."

"Oh. Okay…well, I'm fine."

"Good." Erik pulled the bottle of water out of his jacket, found the boy's hands in the chains against the post above his head and shoved it into one of them. "Here. You'll have to drink that now; I can't leave it here."

Sean nodded. He was able to move his hands just enough to open the bottle and tilt it back to his mouth if he got up on his knees, which saved them both the awkwardness of Erik having to do it for him. Instead he was able to just wait until the young man had finished off the water, and he took the empty bottle back and pushed it into his jacket again.

"Thanks," Sean was saying. Erik nodded. He still couldn't see the boy very well, but his eyes had adjusted enough that he could tell Sean wanted to say something else. He waited, though he knew he shouldn't stay much longer.

"What is it?" he asked finally.

This time he could see it well enough that he knew Sean shrugged. "Just…you're a good friend. You should know that. I mean, Charles talks about you enough, but Raven…she kinda thinks the Prof'd be a little nuts by now if it weren't for you."

"Who what?"

"Sorry. The rest of us besides Raven—we call Charles Professor sometimes. Cause he'd gotten his Ph.D. just before all this went down and all. I don't know who started it."

"Ah."

Amusing.

"Anyway…guess I just wanted to mention it. We all kind of owe you a lot."

Erik looked at the boy for a moment, and all he could do was nod again in thanks before he stood to go. How could he answer that?

He made his way back to his room slowly, thinking, going back to the tentative idea he'd been forming. Stryker was becoming frustrated that he had no answers as to what the telepath was up to. Erik had been telling him that keeping Charles out of the labs for now was helping with the trust issue, but he needed more time. He didn't know what else to tell the man.

Maybe if he told Stryker that as far as gaining more trust went it might be a good idea to get Charles out of the cells for a day, or a night—let him sleep somewhere else for a change. Give him a bit of normal back. Or something like that. He knew Charles wanted to see Moira. And knowing Charles and his fervent wish not to do anything that might hurt her in the long run, he knew if he could engineer this they would only sit about talking, but it would do both of them good.

It was definitely something to think about.

Sean was fine the next day when he was released, just hungry, and he told them that Erik had, in fact, checked on him, and brought him water, and it did make Charles feel a bit better. Though he still was not happy that any of it had happened at all.

Every day now he wished more and more that this were over. He hadn't lied to Erik; he wasn't strictly impatient. In fact, he was willing to put as much patience as needed into all of this if it would mean the eventual end of this place. But he looked forward more and more eagerly to when that end would come.

He was tired of his friends being hurt. He was tired of not being able to do more. He was tired of not being able to see Moira, or the outside, or…

He was tired of being a prisoner.

They all were.

Still, things went back to what was normal now soon enough, except for the fact that Charles was recovering again and Raven, as usual, was more sullen until he began to feel better. More than a week later he was all but fine again and Erik, for some reason, was suddenly inexplicably cheerful. Like with Raven and Moira Charles would not invade his friend's mind without permission, so he had no idea what on earth it was.

That day Erik didn't come until nightfall, and when he did come the hall guard followed him in with a pair of handcuffs out.

What?

Charles stood warily, and Raven looked every bit ready to protest, but Erik reassured him in his thoughts.

It's all right.

He made certain Raven heard that, too, and she relaxed, though only a little.

The guard went to Charles wordlessly and pulled his arms behind his back, and because Erik wasn't upset he wasn't—he let the man restrain him.

Erik? What's going on?

It's fine; it just that this is only way Stryker would agree to let me take you out of here on my own. You have to be restrained until we get where we're going.

And where ARE we going?

All of this Charles also projected to Raven, but Erik didn't answer. He only smiled. The guard handed the key to the cuffs to Erik, a little uncertainly.

"Are you sure you've got it from here, sir? This one can be...dangerous."

"I think I can handle him."

With that Erik nodded reassuringly to Raven and followed the hall guard out of the cell, bringing Charles with him. The guard closed the door behind them and went back to his post, and Erik headed for the cell block's exit with Charles in tow.

Charles? Raven was asking in his mind. Are you sure this is okay?

Whatever Erik is up to, I don't believe it is anything to be concerned about, he answered mildly.

That satisfied her for now, and Charles followed Erik through the darkening corridors of the facility that was mostly shut down for the night. Erik's hand on his arm gently tugged him along, but not enough to put any strain on his wrists in the cuffs behind his back.

"Erik, where on earth are we going? Are you certain Stryker has agreed to this? There could be serious trouble for having me out of my cell…"

"Yes, Stryker agreed to this. Or he agreed to let me get you out of that awful cell for a night, anyway, though not happily. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything for Raven, but that was out of the question to him. Anyhow, as for whether Stryker knows where I'm really taking you…I hope not."

"And where are you taking me?" Charles asked, a little annoyed now by the secrecy. "Don't make me read your mind."

"You could, but it would spoil the surprise."

He didn't have to read anything to understand that. Charles stopped in his tracks. "Erik, wait."

Erik stopped short and glanced back at him. "What?"

He winced. "This is not a good idea…"

"So you did read my mind."

"I didn't have to."

"Then if you're even right, why is this not a good idea?"

Charles swallowed. "Does…does she even know we're coming?"

"No. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Of course I do! After all this time…I…"

"Charles, all you have to do is talk to her."

"I have talked to her. We talk quite often now, thank you very much."

"I know that. But I also know that you want to see her. I can tell it every time you mention her. I'm not stupid, Charles."

He made a face. "I don't want to put her in any danger…"

"You'll be back in your cell by morning. No one will ever know. Where's the harm in that? She won't be in danger." Maybe he had a point, but still Charles hesitated. As much as they had talked recently, he still didn't know if he could face her. It had been so long since that night in the courtyard…

"Charles, if you don't cooperate I'm going carry you."

He glared. "I could stop you." Erik glared back, both of them fully aware that it was a battle of wills now, and Charles was the one to finally relent. He wanted to see Moira too badly to turn back now, especially after all the trouble Erik must have gone to.

"All right…" he trailed.

Erik nodded, took Charles's arm again and started walking once more, until they came to what seemed to be a narrow residential corridor with numbered doors lining the walls. Erik led him about halfway down and stopped in front one of the doors, but before he knocked he motioned for Charles to turn around. Charles obliged, and Erik unlocked the cuffs and pocketed them.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly, when Charles rubbed at his wrists.

"No, no…reflex, sorry." He let his arms drop. His heart was pounding in his ears; he could scarcely hear Erik at all. He could barely hear the knock on the door when Erik rapped his knuckles against it.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until the door swung slowly open, and Moira was there, staring at him as if she had seen a ghost.

Charles couldn't see Erik's smirk, but he felt it. He heard it in his friend's voice. "Special delivery."

Chapter Text

Before Moira could say a word Erik quickly ushered them all inside her room and shut the door before someone could notice them. He explained what Stryker had agreed to and that while no one knew that Charles was, specifically, here, it should be safe enough as long as he was back by morning. As he was talking Moira was still staring at Charles in shock. Erik explaining this saved Charles the need to—and it's was Erik's insanity, after all; he should answer for it—and left him free to be silent and simply stare back…perhaps a bit sheepishly.

But just as quickly as he'd begun to explain Erik was finished, and he left after mentioning what time he would be back in the morning.

Then Charles and Moira were alone, and they couldn't just stare at each other anymore.

Charles cleared his throat. "I-I uhm…I'm sorry. I didn't know he was going to do this, I—"

"You couldn't read his mind?" she asked, smiling a bit.

"Well…he is a friend now, after all. I don't go about reading his mind without permission just like I wouldn't do that to you or Raven."

"Ah…"

"But anyhow, I am sorry for the lack of warning…"

"There's no need to apologize, Charles."

And he looked at her for a moment, and he knew there wasn't. She was just as glad to see him and he was to see her. Moira smiled gently, and Charles swallowed and closed the distance between them to pull her into his arms.

"I've missed you so much, Moira, I—"

It came out in a whisper, and he shivered a little and fell silent when she kissed his cheek and willingly returned the embrace. "I know," she answered after a moment. "Me too." When she let go she sighed. "And I certainly don't mind the surprise; it's just that if he'd warned me I would have had something in here for you to eat. They give all of you little enough during the day as it is, and if we're going to be up all night…"

She was right that sleep was not an option—not if tonight was all they had—but he didn't share her concerns. "I'll be fine, Moira. This is not about that." He let a hand come up to rest against her cheek. "This is about being able to see you." The heel of his hand drifted close to her mouth, and suddenly all he could think about was kissing her.

He let his hand drop, and Moira looked away briefly.

Not now. Not yet. It had been too long.

"Perhaps we should sit down," he suggested, clearing his throat again. Moira nodded quickly and motioned to a small table in the corner. There were only two chairs, but that was all they needed. He let her choose one of them and took the other, and for a long moment there was only silence.

Much too long. It was easy enough to talk when that was all they could do—when they couldn't see each other—but it had been so long since they had seen each other in person that Charles didn't quite know what to do now, and Moira didn't seem to either. Everything that had happened since then only made it seem like longer—like a lifetime.

After another moment or so Moira jumped up suddenly and went to a small cabinet. "I-I don't have any food, but are you thirsty? I have water. It isn't cold, but…" She opened the cabinet and found several water bottles—two or three bottles of cola, as well. She grabbed one of those, instead, and looked at it and then up at him questioningly. "I have these too. I forgot I had these…"

"Uhm…water is fine, thank you…" Water was all the prisoners were given, and after 18 months that way anything else was likely to make him sick. The thought seemed to cross Moira's mind, too, because she grimaced to herself as she put the bottles of cola down and brought two bottles of water to the table instead.

When she sat down she let her head fall into her hands for a moment.

"Moira?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

Charles reached out and squeezed her hand atop the table, and she squeezed back and didn't let go.

"What are we doing?" she wondered quietly. "Even if whatever you and Erik are cooking up…" She shook her head again, sadly this time. "They'll never stop looking for you. All of you."

Then she had come to the same conclusions he had—the ones that had led him to refrain from speaking to her at all, because where could this go?

"I know."

But still she held his hand, and hers felt good in his—smaller, but warm where his hands seemed always cold now. Moira noticed. She rubbed her thumb over his fingers gently and frowned.

"Your hands weren't this cold before…"

"I've lost weight; that's all." It was simple, really. Smaller body, less body heat. There was a more complicated explanation, and the lack of proper nutrition probably didn't help, but it didn't matter. It wasn't his area of expertise.

Not that his having expertise anywhere mattered anymore. Not when he was locked away.

Moira only nodded, and the frown didn't go away, and Charles didn't know what to do about it. He kept her hand, and when she let her other one rest on the table too he took it, as well, in his own other one. Their fingers twisted together in a heap in the center of the tiny round table.

"I won't see you again until this is over, will I?" Moira asked finally.

Now Charles frowned. "I don't see how, but…well, I suppose one can always hope." He pulled one of her hands up to his mouth and kissed it, because he didn't know what else to do and all he could think about was touching her.

"Can we?" she asked suddenly.

He looked at her quickly, eyebrows going up. "What?"

"I don't know what you and Erik are doing. I don't know anything. I need to know if you really think whatever you're planning is going to work." Moira swallowed. "I need to know if I can hope, Charles. Really hope."

Charles let out soft a breath and looked her in the eyes. "Moira, neither of us would ever have said anything to you if we didn't think so. It may take time, but yes…I think we can hope. I truly do." He winced. "You are right in that it will not change how the government or the general population may feel, but if all goes as planned at least the people here will be free."

They had made the mistake of leaving the chairs too close together, and when Moira bowed her head in near him it was all Charles could do to think straight.

"What about me?" she asked quietly. Will I be free to follow you?

You will always be wanted where I am, Moira. Whether or not it will be wise for you to be there is another matter, he told her truthfully, sadly.

She made a small noise in the back of her throat, and then she was kissing him. Charles had seen it coming, a split second before it happened, but he didn't stop her. Their clasped hands stayed that way but slid off of the table to hover between them as Charles answered her in kind.

Charles…

He didn't have to answer. She started to stand, and he came with her, and it was easier that way, standing.

Then, abruptly, Moira broke away. The sudden lack of physical contact almost hurt, and Charles let out a heavy breath and had to lean on the table a bit from the weight of it.

"Moira…?"

She'd turned away, taken a few steps from the table. He could feel that she felt the way he did, but…

She swallowed and looked over her shoulder at him. "After tonight…what then? We go back to before? Where we can only talk to each other in our heads and that may be all we ever have? Where we can't hope for anything else even if this does end?"

Charles made a face, and his chest suddenly ached. "I wish I saw another alternative." He wanted her safe. Coming with them even when this was over would not be safe for her. It wouldn't be safe for any of them, but it would be better than being trapped here like animals.

And if she, at least, could have a normal life, he wanted her to keep it.

Moira nodded weakly in understanding and came back to him, and her arms wrapped around his waist and she kissed him again. He responded, taking her face in his hands, but a moment later she broke off again. She pulled her head away and his hands fell to her shoulders, but she didn't let him go.

"This is not a good idea…"

"I am well aware of that," he breathed. They shouldn't. In the brief period of warning he'd had he had not planned for this at all. It wasn't wise. He'd wanted to see her, but reasoning away anything more would be horribly flawed logic.

And Erik would be laughing if he could hear his thoughts now; Charles was sure of it.

Moira swallowed and pressed her forehead to his. "Charles, I want…" You. "I don't care anymore if you don't. God, I just don't…"

"I am beginning to care less and less," he answered—god, where was air?—and kissed her once more. She hadn't changed from the day yet—those severe clothes…Charles began to push her jacket off, and true to her words she didn't protest. Her arms came away from his waist to let it slide from her arms and to the ground, before she pushed her arms up between them so she could find the thin brown jumpsuit's zipper at his neck.

She made quick work of pulling it down to his waist, and Charles was shrugging out of the arms even as Moira's hands pushed under his t-shirt. Her lips scarcely left his, and now they paused in bothering with clothes to kick their shoes off and out of the way and to let themselves press closer together, because they needed it. Maybe it was only supposed to be for a moment, but the contact was electricity. Charles gasped, and Moira responded by wrapping her arms around him again, her hands pressing into his back under his shirt and holding her closer.

Then she froze.

"Charles…" she sobbed against his mouth.

His head and his being was so full of her that it took him a moment to fight out of the haze and understand that something was wrong. "What is it…?

And then he really felt it—her hands on his back, running over the scars now, feeling them and how many of them there were, and she was crying into his cheek.

"Moira, it's all right," Charles whispered. "It's all right…"

"How is it all right?" she choked.

He didn't know. "I-I'm not the only one…"

Moira buried her face in his neck. "But you're the one I'm in love with."

Charles didn't mean to sob at that, but he did. Damnit, she wasn't supposed to say that. They weren't supposed to think it. Pretending they didn't know it was easier, but oh god right now he didn't care. Gently he tugged her face upwards and their lips met again, more eagerly now even than before, and he didn't care. He wanted her; more than just right now.

But now would have to do for a while. Maybe for quite a while.

Moira pulled him toward the bed and he went, and for one night Charles wasn't a prisoner anymore. He wasn't a captive, or a lab rat, or a mutant, or a mentor. He was just a man.

Thank you, my friend.

Erik heard it just before he slept, Charles's voice in his mind, and he wasn't even sure if it had been sent intentionally because they were the only words that came. There was nothing before and nothing after, but that was more than enough whether Charles had meant for it to get to him or not.

He paused when he heard it, as he made sure his alarm was set early enough that he could get Charles back on time in the morning. When nothing else followed Erik settled down for the night, and he smiled to himself before he closed his eyes.

A hand combing through his hair, soft kisses along his brow and shoulder...a soft voice calling his name and a soft leg entwined with his, and warmth…

The voice still called to him, but Charles didn't want to open his eyes. If he woke it would all disappear, because it could only be a dream.

"Charles…"

A second hand on his back, massaging gently but lingering over the lines there sometimes. Kisses there, along the scars, and then a warm forehead against his and a hand at the back of his neck, fingers curling in the hair there and tickling his skin.

Charles made a sound that might have been a laugh if he were more aware, and then there were lips pressed to his and he was suddenly much more aware.

It came back—Erik and Moira and what Erik had done for them.

What he and Moira had done.

Moira.

Charles opened his eyes as she pulled away to let him breathe, and he smiled at her. But the smile slipped when he realized that he'd fallen asleep.

"Damn…how much time did I waste?"

"We were both asleep…for an hour or so."

"Mmm…" He was on his stomach, and he started to roll back on his side to see her better, and suddenly he was falling off the single bed. Moira caught him just before the point of no return, pulled him back to her and steadied him, and Charles had caught her arms in return and he was laughing now. He winced, too, but that passed quickly. He was sore—it had been quite a while—but it was the pleasant sort of sore, and he didn't mind at all.

"Careful! Are you all right?"

"Fine, fine…" he chuckled. He settled down on his side and Moira settled into his arms, head against his chest. Charles breathed in the scent of her hair and was quite content where he was. He didn't want to know how much time was left. He just wanted to be here.

They stayed that way until morning neared, sometimes talking and other times not needing to, sometimes kissing softly, just together because soon they wouldn't be. Though they tried not look at the clock they knew when time was running out. They could feel the change in the air as early morning came, and the press of their lips together was more fervent, their grip on each other tighter.

Charles didn't regret any of this, but oh god he didn't want to leave.

"Moira…Moira, I love you too," he whispered finally, when they were catching their breath. "I love you…I think I always did…"

It was so easy now; he was so different now then he'd been when he met her…a cheap drunk and a horrible flirt he'd been, then. So young. Not ready for love. Not for this. This he felt in his bones. He'd grown up quickly, here, and if it had made him ready for this then maybe part of him was glad. While at the same time his heart ached that it had to happen this way.

He'd just begun to understand that he could have this, before everything fell down around their heads. He'd realized that with Moira it could be different—not an awful line and a cheap date. He'd just begun to want it. If none of this had happened, if the CIA hadn't been lying to them both…Charles would have learned with her, rather than parted from her. He would have learned through happiness rather than heartache, and maybe he would have made mistakes, but for her he would have made anything right. Maybe they still wouldn't be this far even now, but they would have gotten here in time. He was sure of it.

But instead they had this, and he didn't regret it, but he wanted more. He wanted what could have been.

"I know, Charles," she said quietly. "I know…" Moira kissed his forehead and sighed. "I love you, whatever good that does us…"

He made himself smile weakly, forced out a small laugh. He pulled her to him again and held on, because it was all he could do.

When Erik knocked on Moira's door that morning she called for him to wait, and he wondered if Charles had fallen asleep. But it took more than the moment he thought it would take to wake someone before the door opened, and when he noticed the general rumpled state both of them appeared to be in he understood. His eyebrows went up, but Charles was in his mind telling him not to say a word.

Erik chuckled inwardly. I wasn't exactly expecting it, but it's perfectly normal, Charles.

Charles shushed him silently, his mental voice sounding a little more strained than Erik would have thought it would, and Erik fell silent. He immediately regretted his slightly flippant reaction as Moira and his friend clung to each other in farewell. He looked away, but he knew Charles was kissing her. He knew, too, that Charles forgave him. The feeling was a soft push at the edge of his mind—not words, exactly, but knowledge.

Erik felt awful, then, for having to take Charles away, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Did I make a mistake?" he asked hesitantly, once they were out in the corridor and around the corner.

"No," Charles said quickly, and he slowed and stopped. "Not at all. I said thank you, and I meant it."

Then what he'd said last night had been intentional.

"I'm sorry I can't do more…"

"Don't. It's all right, Erik." He leaned back against the wall for a moment, and Erik grimaced when he saw that his friend's eyes were damp above the smile he gave. "That was certainly more than we might ever have had if you had not stepped in, and I'm grateful. Thank you."

Charles wasn't lying, Erik knew. But he was hurting. Part of him was happier, too, but the pain was still there and Erik had never meant for it to be. He supposed it couldn't have been avoided, but he was sorry just the same. He answered in a nod.

A hand on his arm. "Erik…"

He looked up, and Charles smiled at him, more convincingly this time.

"Don't feel badly. You've done a good thing. What else I am feeling now is not your fault."

"But it is Shaw's," Erik growled. "And Stryker's. And anyone else in this country's damned government that condones this place or doesn't fight it hard enough."

Charles's eyebrows went up at the quick change of subject. "Calm yourself, Erik. I would assume that we should be getting back."

Erik let out a breath and nodded wordlessly, and they moved on.

Chapter Text

No one was on the bunks this time, as they dangled steadily in the air and slowly spun near the ceiling of the cell. Charles and Raven stood back by the screen that sectioned off the toilet, and Erik was just in front of them watching the bunks he was manipulating with his ever-strengthening powers.

"Someone tell me again why we let him use our beds as practice fodder?" Raven asked, arms crossed.

Charles raised eyebrow. "It's the only free-standing metal thing in the room."

"What if he drops them?"

"I'm not going to drop them," Erik deadpanned.

"Came really close a couple of weeks ago."

"I was tired that day."

"It would make a lot of noise and how the hell would we explain that?"

"I am not going to drop them," Erik repeated, even as he smirked and showed off by flipping them over entirely. There was just enough room in the cell to do it.

Charles smiled to himself and watched Raven balk at him. It wasn't that she didn't trust Erik, he knew-she was actually quite impressed by his powers, usually. But the two of them had developed something of a sibling-like relationship themselves, a fledging version of what Charles had with her, and it easily led to such well-humored bickering as now.

Charles didn't mind at all; he was glad that the two of them got along so easily. He also suspected it had, at least at the beginning, had more than a little to do with how much they both worried about him, but...well, anyway. It had led to this, which was a good thing.

"Even if he did drop them it wouldn't matter. He could fix them, and no one would hear anyhow. When he's here training I shield the room. No one in the immediate vicinity is aware of any sound coming from inside."

"Convenient," Raven commented.

Erik snorted. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Charles."

"It's only a precaution. You're doing quite well. In fact, what you really need now is something else to work with. Something larger. The only problem is that though are plenty enough larger metal objects about, you can't do that here. You'll have to go elsewhere."

Erik set the beds back down in the corner where they belonged and turned to looked at him skeptically, the leather of his well-loved brown jacket crinkling as he lowered his arm. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Go elsewhere."

Charles felt his brow creasing. "You are hardly a prisoner here, Erik. I know you spend most of your time with us, but as far they are concerned you are not one of us. You are free to come and go as you please."

"Am I really? What if Stryker said something to Shaw? What if he showed up here or called me away."

"You don't have to listen to him anymore, Erik. You owe him nothing."

"Nothing but a painful death," Erik clarified through clenched teeth.

"Erik..."

This reaction always worried him. He didn't want to think about what might happen the next time Erik did have to face Shaw. If he gave in to his rage...

Erik gave him a look, but then visibly calmed himself. "I know that, Charles, but if he called me away I still wouldn't be able to stay. At least not without raising suspicions. And the last thing I want is to cause any more trouble for you. Stryker is getting restless at it is. And it would be even worse if Shaw showed up here-not to mention if he brought Emma."

Charles winced. "I realize that." He thought about it for a moment. "I suppose if they did I could help you create shields-barriers that would prevent her delving far enough into your mind to know that your memories have been uncovered...give her the illusion that your mind was the same as the last time she encountered it."

Erik's eyebrows went up. "You could do that?"

Two years ago he could have. Now he wasn't so sure. "Theoretically..."

By now both Erik and Raven understood what the hesitation meant-that he was no longer completely confident in the higher functions of his powers. He couldn't be. His body was weaker and most things other than basic telepathy had been too long in disuse. That was why helping Erik to uncover his memories had made him sick. And in that he had only brought down barriers created by a less-powerful telepath, and he had exploited a weakness that already existed to do it.

Creating barriers would be considerably more complicated.

They were both looking at him now, and he made a face again. "Let's hope it isn't needed."

Raven let out a breath and went to drop onto the bottom bunk, and Erik leaned into a wall with a troubled look.

"Anyhow, I know that there are risks involved, but we cannot do this until we know it will work. We've been over this, Erik. We have to know that your powers are strong enough. If we tried to break out and failed we would all be in a considerable amount of trouble."

"They would kill all of us," Erik said quietly.

"They would kill you and me and everyone else," Raven corrected. "They wouldn't kill Charles, and there are a few others with valuable powers they might keep alive, but-"

"But that still does not bear thinking about," Charles cut in.

Erik let out a heavy breath. "Fine, so I need to practice with something bigger; that still doesn't answer the question of what I tell Stryker."

"Don't tell him anything. Tell him you will be back in a few days. You don't precisely answer to him, either; he has no right to question you."

"That doesn't mean he won't."

"I don't know what else to tell you, Erik. But you need this."

Erik looked back at him for a long moment, Charles standing his ground, and finally another deep-seated reason for his not wanting to leave came to the surface. Charles caught it in his mind just before he said it. "I don't want to leave you here, Charles." Unprotected.

Charles chuckled a bit, and smiled softly. "Thank you for the sentiment, Erik, but we did get along all right before you came. I'm sure we'll be all right for a few days."

"I don't know if 'all right' is the right phrase," Erik growled in response.

Erik...nothing is going to change the fact that you need the training.

But...if something happens...

What could happen that I have not already survived, my friend?

Erik glowered at him. "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble," he said aloud.

Charles knew he couldn't make that promise. "I will do what I can," he said instead. Erik was still not satisfied, but at least he seemed to understand that that was all he was going to get.

He huffed and pushed off the wall. "Fine. I'll have to see if they'll let me borrow a car."

"Let me know when you're going to ask and I'll see if I can help in that regard," Charles offered. "Just be certain to approach Stryker when we're here and no will see that I'm focusing."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

There were reasons he'd refrained, mostly, from trying to influence things in such a way before, but now there was a good reason. And Stryker was a simple-minded man who would never notice the minor intrusion. As long as he was careful…Charles glanced at Raven, and she nodded in encouragement. She knew the risks, too.

"You need this," Charles repeated in answer. "We need this."

Erik nodded in understanding and turned for the door. "Then I suppose I should get on that."

Erik didn't know how much of it or not had been thanks to Charles, but two days later he was driving through the nearby Virginia countryside. He was far enough from the facility that nothing that happened out here would be connected to it, be was trying to remain within Charles's range—too far and they wouldn't be able to communicate.

Not only could Charles help him in focusing his powers and teaching him how to do it on his own, but he didn't want to be out of communication range. Despite the reassurances Charles had tried to give him and the fact that he and Raven and the others had survived before he came along, being away still made Erik uneasy.

He didn't know why, exactly, he was so concerned, but something about Stryker's attitude lately…

Erik shook those thoughts away and focused on the road. He had just passed a relatively abandoned junkyard that probably contained plenty enough old cars and things to toss around, and not too far in the distance a large satellite dish rested on a hill. This being Virginia, it was probably very much government-related, and the idea of screwing with it was suddenly very appealing. It was an ambitious thought—the thing was huge, as satellite dishes went—but he could always start out in the junkyard and work his way up, and with Charles with him…

Charles? Are you there? Am I still in range?

His friend's voice answered promptly, and Erik relaxed a bit more. Yes, quite. Perhaps just beginning to reach the edge, but I wouldn't be too concerned. There was a pause as Charles took in what Erik silently offered him in images of the targets for practice he'd sighted. Yes, that should all do quite nicely. I believe you're set.

Erik stopped at the first motel he sighted and bedded down for the night. He was still enough in the countryside that what little there was of the small town didn't block the view of lush green from the windows in the room. He watched the sun set from the small table by one of them, not interested so much himself but knowing that Charles had not seen a sunset in 18 months—certainly not one over grass and trees or anything other than the harsh metal and concrete of the mutant holding facility.

So he sat back by the window drinking the bad coffee left in the room for guests and watching the sky go from blue to orange to red and pink and purple, watching the bright orange disk of the sunk sink below the horizon until finally everything was a deep dark blue, and in his mind he felt Charles watching through his eyes. He knew somehow, too, without words really, that Charles was lying back on his bunk and that he was projecting this to Raven, too.

Thank you, Erik…

You'll see this on your own soon enough, Charles. All of you will. I promise.

He didn't think he was supposed to know about the tear that Charles quickly wiped away, and he didn't bring it up. Erik blinked away his own before they could free themselves, and went to bed.

Late the next morning Charles sat on his bunk with two fingers to his temple, smiling to himself, and Raven stood back watching. Finally she couldn't help herself, and she dropped onto the edge of the bed beside him.

"What's Erik up to?"

Charles chuckled, not opening his closed eyes. "He's playing dominoes with scrap cars at the moment. He is nothing if not a child at times."

"Well I could have told you that."

Charles, I can't do this. I don't know what I was thinking. This is ridiculous. At least this soon…

He'd only been out here for a day and a half. He'd made good progress with the scrap in the junkyard, but he'd still been wary when Charles suggested that he come here this afternoon instead.

Am I going to have to play the stern professor with you, Erik? I can do that. I can tell you that you are not allowed to move from that spot until you have at least tried it.

Erik glared into the distance at the satellite dish. As if you would enforce it.

I could.

But you wouldn't.

Charles sighed in his mind. You can do it, Erik; you must trust yourself.

So he tried, grumbling quietly. Erik reached out with his powers and with both hands stretched in front of him, and he could feel the dish, feel it trembling under his influence and hear the metal groaning from here, but nothing else happened.

I can't DO this!

Yes you can!

Maybe I should be closer.

It might be guarded; I would rather you stayed there.

Erik let out a breath. He had to do this. He knew he had to do it eventually, if he was ever going to break everyone free from the mutant facility. If he couldn't move this dish from here he couldn't do that. But it was too soon. He wasn't ready.

Yes you are, Charles told him gently. Or you could be, if you wanted to be.

I want to be. I want to get all of you out of that damned place. I don't want you there another day…He hated it. He hated it, and hated Stryker, hated Shaw, the Americans in general, hated the hatred…

And the dish was trembling again; he could feel it vibrating with him and he wasn't even really focusing on it anymore. Now he tried again, tried to move it, and something squeaked in the distance and maybe it tried to move, tried to turn a bit, but then it stopped. It continued to tremble as he focused on it but nothing else happened.

"Damnit…"

The anger isn't enough, Erik. You've been leaning on it too heavily, I think, since your memories were restored.

It's all I have. Besides you.

Then why have you only used one of them?

Erik blinked. What?

You're using the anger to focus. The rage. You're turning rage into power, and it's strong but it isn't strong enough. Everything needs its counterbalance, Erik. With rage you need serenity. Only in the point between them can you find true focus. A pause. Or that's what I've always believed, anyhow. I'm hoping it may help you.

So what are you saying? How…how do I this?

It took a moment before Charles answered. As I said…you've been using only the rage. When you want to focus you're thinking about Shaw, and Stryker, and the wrong that has been done to you in the past and to us here now. That is all you focus on. I am not saying those memories will not help, but they shouldn't be the only things you use. You need the good memories, too—the moments when you've felt safe and happy and loved. When you've been at peace.

I've never been at peace, Charles. Not entirely. Not even when I didn't remember everything. Sometimes I think it simply isn't an option for me.

He felt sadness through the link that was allowing them to communicate, and this time he knew Charles was letting it through on purpose, so that he would understand that it was there even though Erik couldn't see his face. I hope that will not always be the case for you, my friend.

Erik swallowed. Am I going to try this again, or not? he asked quickly, changing the subject.

Yes, Charles answered after a moment. If you don't mind, I think you should try again. Just remember to include the good things this time, Erik. Rage AND serenity. Find the point between them.

And Erik tried, suddenly, to remember other happy times in his life—all that came to mind were the nights these last few weeks that he had spent with Charles and Raven. Those stolen moments were happy enough, many of them, but…

His mother. He and his mother had been happy once, before the war. Before the Nazis and the camps. He knew they had been, but he'd been so young.

Erik…I can…maybe…

Charles didn't really finish what he was saying, and Erik didn't really answer, but he knew what his friend wanted to do, and he consented, though maybe a bit warily.

And Charles pushed gently into his mind from miles away, sorting quietly through his memories before pulling one out and showing it to him—it had been faded and dusty and forgotten before, but with Charles's help it was suddenly very clear. He saw his mother, the candles, her smile…felt himself smiling in his small body, as a child. He felt his mother's hand on his face and he felt the warmth and the love and the happiness, the contentment…

The serenity.

And then it faded away, but not completely. Charles wasn't holding it out to him anymore, but it was still there. He could access it if he wanted it, now that it had been pulled forward and dusted off.

Erik felt the tears on his face, and he didn't bother to wipe them away. There was no one to see him. He was parked in the trees off the road at the edge of the small town that housed the motel he'd holed up in, leaning against a tree a ways back from the road and looking out at the satellite dish.

Or he had been looking at the dish. Now he was looking at his shoes and letting the tears fall. "What…?" He stopped and cleared his throat before remembering that Charles wasn't here and speaking aloud was a pointless waste of breath. What did you just do to me?

When Charles's voice came it was gentle. I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system. It's a very beautiful memory, Erik; thank you.

I didn't know I still had that…

A fond chuckle. There's so much more to you than you know…even though your memories are your own again, you…you don't know how much good there is in you, Erik. But I know it's there; I've felt it. I've seen you do good here. Yes, there is pain and anger in you…and perhaps a good bit of it is my fault for revealing the truth to you, but—

None of it is your fault, Charles. You did the right thing. I thank God every day for that. If you hadn't I would be crazy by now.

Erik didn't know it was possible to blush mentally, but somehow Charles managed it, and then he continued. But there is the good, too, Erik. And when you can access all of that…you'll possess a power no one can match. A small pause, and what he said next came with a mix of pride and excitement and awe. Not even me.

Erik started at that, surprised at what he read in the tone, but Charles didn't give him a chance to mull it over.

So come on; try again?

A mental pat on the back, the sense of a smile, and Erik managed a small smile too before he reached out a hand again, determined not let his friend down.

He wanted to be everything Charles seemed to think he could be.

All right…

He reached out with his powers, thinking of his mother and Charles and Shaw and Stryker all at once. He felt the anger and the pain, but he felt love too. The anger and the pain were the fuel, perhaps, always had been…but the moments of serenity, the love…they were what made it all lighter. They were what made the metal of the dish seem suddenly fluid under his influence…what made it suddenly much more eager to bend to his will.

Erik focused on it much more easily now, and once he was sure he had hold of the satellite dish all it took was a small twisting motion of his hand.

And the dish moved. It turned to face him with ease, despite the screeching of the old joints as it moved.

Erik let it go with a breath, and he didn't realize he was grinning or that he was laughing until he felt his face aching from the strength of the smile tugging at cheeks. He had to lean back against the tree behind him to catch his breath he was suddenly laughing so hard, and in his mind Charles's ecstatic presence made it all worth it. The voice in his mind sounded almost breathless with happiness.

I knew you could do it, Erik. I knew it, my friend.

Finally Erik dried his face, still smiling as he straightened. Another step. One more step closer to shutting down that god-awful facility for good.

Am I done here?

Goodness, no, Charles chuckled. I would stay there another couple of days, at least—get more practice in. See what else you can do with it, or find something else. Take as much advantage of this trip as you can.

That much, at least, was certainly a good idea. He didn't want to have to do this again—leave the facility—before all of this was over. It was still making him uncomfortable to be away.

So he would stay for now.

That evening before he settled down to get a good night's sleep to be rested for more thorough practice tomorrow, Charles contacted Erik briefly to let him know that he'd picked up a flurry of thoughts through the facility that indicated that several of the researchers in the lab wing were extremely frustrated. It seemed that satellite connections to offsite databases were down.

Both of them had a good laugh over that.

Charles kept close tabs on Erik and his progress without being intrusive—unless Erik needed him to be, such as the first time he'd moved the satellite dish. After that, though, he didn't seem to need as much help. By the next day things were mostly quiet in his mind as he left Erik alone to focus, and he was suddenly much more aware of how much he missed his friend. Charles knew that he wasn't far away, but he realized how used to Erik's presence he'd become. Not having him about suddenly felt wrong.

But he could contact Erik if he needed to, and Moira was still here…though he couldn't see her either. But they kept even closer in touch now, even though they had said that it would be ridiculous to hope. Perhaps it would lead to nothing, or end badly, but there was no use in denying anything any longer.

So they didn't. Granted, there was still nothing more, really, that they could do from a distance, but there were no topics that they avoided any longer. The words "love" and "feelings" and "want" were no longer taboo. They let themselves wish, because it was all they had.

And Charles was beginning to see a change in Raven and Hank's relationship, as well. He knew they had always cared for each other, that they had supported each other in dealing with being here right from the start. He knew Raven wanted to be strong for him, to take care of him like he had always taken care of her, but because she had Hank she didn't always have to be strong. Charles had been grateful for that from the beginning.

But there was no real way to have anything more here, and they all knew it. Beyond sitting close, holding hands under the table when they thought no one knew, spending their time in the yard together…Raven hadn't told him, and he hadn't read her mind of course, but he knew they had not so much as kissed until now, until hope had shown itself. None of them had hoped enough before for an end to this, until Erik came. Now Charles saw the hope in their eyes. He saw how they looked at each other and smiled and knew that they were thinking of the future they might have together—properly together. Now they dared contemplate it.

The day Erik moved the satellite dish Charles saw them kissing at the edge of the yard behind the guard tower—the only real blind spot in the yard. The tower wasn't quite at the edge and there was a passageway between the base of the tower and the concrete wall of the yard. Technically the mutants were not supposed to be back there, but there were those that slipped back there anyhow. He hadn't meant to intrude but suddenly his sister was nowhere to be found, and he had tracked her there. He hadn't thought to search for Hank too, and because he would not intrude into Raven's mind he hadn't known that the young man was there until he turned the corner.

He saw them just in time to pull back around corner before they saw him, and instead of scolding Raven for breaking rules as he'd planned to he smiled to himself and let them be. He never meant for her to know that he knew, but that evening between contacting Erik to let him know what moving the satellite dish had done and being happy for his sister he could not stop smiling.

"You saw us, didn't you? Or you know," she said, hand on hips.

Charles flushed immediately. "It was not on purpose, I swear it. You disappeared; I was looking for you…"

The corners of her mouth quirked upwards. "It's fine." But after a moment she was looking at him more seriously. "Do you mind?"

He frowned at her in confusion. "Do I mind? What on earth sort of question is that, Raven? It's your choice to make."

"I know, but you are my big brother, and he didn't ask you first."

"Why should he need to ask me anything?"

"I don't know! I don't have a father so you'd be the next best thing, and I'm pretty sure it's still considered in good taste to ask a girl's father before one begins the whole serious seeing-each-other bit."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "So it is serious."

She crossed her arms and shrugged, her smile small but full of more joy than he had seen on her face in quite some time. "If this works and we get out of here…we're not sure. If we're living on the run anyway we can't really live together first because we might not be in one place long anyway…we may just get married."

That serious. It was that serious. He'd known their connection went deep after so may long months of leaning on each other, but he'd had no idea…

"Oh," he said, all of the breath going out of him for a moment.

"Charles? Are you okay?" She sat beside him, a hand on his knee. "Charles?"

"I'm fine…"

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have sprung that on you like that. I know you don't read my mind…"

He shook his head and smiled. "No, no, I…" He pulled her into his arms before he could cry. "I'm thrilled." He was. The idea that Raven might have already found someone that would always be there for her, even in the middle of this mess…it made him indescribably happy. It did.

But there was more than one sharp stab of pain in his chest that he was not ready to deal with. There was the fact that it seemed his sister was no longer his alone, and…and it was the fact that no matter how much he wanted to, he could not hope the way she could. Moira was human, and though that would have meant nothing two years ago it separated them by worlds now.

She was free and he was not. Even when that changed nothing else would really change with it. He had told Moira the truth in that he would always welcome her wherever he was, but the part of him that managed to be selfless would still much rather she be safe.

They had been over it and over it and over it and it still hurt.

Raven returned the embrace for a long moment and then pulled back to look at him closely. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Raven, it isn't for me to be all right with or not…"

"I know that, but I want you to be all right with it. Like I said; you're my big brother."

He chuckled a bit. "I certainly approve of Hank, if that is what you're asking."

She smiled back. "Well, that, yeah." She let out a breath. "I just don't want to hurt you." She knew the likelihood that things would work out well for himself and Moira. She that she had something he couldn't be certain he would.

Charles reached up to take her face in his hands, and he kissed her forehead. "Don't think of it again. I will be fine…things will turn out how they will."

Raven gave him a more sympathetic smile now, and kissed his cheek in return.

That night Charles and Moira didn't speak much, after he had told her what his sister had told him. They didn't need to…or they couldn't; Charles wasn't quite sure. They lay wrapped in the warmth of the others' feelings, instead, quiet and just there, curled up in each others' presence until they both drifted to sleep.

Once we're out of here I'll never leave your side again.

Down in his own bunk Charles seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but Raven wasn't sure she would ever get to sleep tonight. Hank's promise played over and over in her mind like a wonderfully broken record, and she didn't even mind the fact that she might be exhausted tomorrow from lack of rest.

He loved her. He really did. In the beginning there had been times…

Before all of this had happened—before the CIA betrayed them—Hank had told her that he would give anything to be normal. He hated his feet. Maybe the abilities that came with them were useful, but he hated feeling like he had to hide.

Raven understood that sentiment all too well.

But then they were prisoners, and their jailers knew what they were. There was no point in hiding. Raven hadn't used her human form since the day she'd been shot. That Raven had died that day. And Hank hadn't bothered to wear shoes in more than a year. They had always been uncomfortable for him, anyway, he said.

He didn't hate himself anymore. Being here had taught him—both of them—to be proud of who and what they were. All of them had to band together to survive here without going crazy. And Raven knew that at first Hank hadn't seen her natural form as beautiful, but as he learned to accept himself he had accepted her. That with the fact that they needed each other, and there almost wasn't anywhere else they could have ended up.

"Did you sleep at all?" Charles asked in the morning.

His smile was a bit mischievous, and when she looked away guiltily he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head.

She had never particularly envied his gift before, but now she wished she had it…if only so that she could talk to Hank whenever she wanted, instead of being forced to wait for certain times of day.

They tried to act normally at breakfast but they couldn't stop smiling at each other and Charles wouldn't stop smiling at them, and soon enough Sean and Darwin were staring. Hank told them shut up before they'd said anything at all, and Raven couldn't help laughing.

The high lasted until their time in the yard early that afternoon.

Hank was nowhere to be found.

"Charles, where is he?" she asked desperately, after they had both searched through the clumps of fellow mutants crowding the concrete more than once. Sean and Darwin were making their way back to them—slowly, so as not to draw attention, and Charles nodded to them.

Once they're over here I'll try to find him, he told her silently.

She was trying not to think that they'd taken him to the labs. After all the time Charles had spent there the idea shouldn't have terrified her as much as it did, but even though it had only been a couple of months that they had left Charles alone she had already done her best to push it all from her memory. She wasn't used to it anymore.

And this was Hank.

Charles seemed to understand, and when Sean and Darwin made it back to them he motioned them closer. "Cover me," he said quietly. They moved closer to a nearby group of milling mutants, and at the same time Raven and the boys crowded closer around him as Charles ducked his head and brought two fingers to his temple.

After a moment he looked up again, frowning, but he didn't look too horribly alarmed. "They've brought him out to Cerebro. He thinks they may want him to calibrate something…he isn't sure. They haven't said anything. I wouldn't know why, either; nothing has seemed wrong with it…"

Raven let out a breath of relief, though she was still uneasy; anything involving Cerebro could affect her brother. "You don't have any idea at all?"

"I don't."

When they made it back to their cell Charles settled himself on his bunk and focused again, and she assumed he was casting about the various thoughts in the facility looking for some clue as to what was going on and left him alone.

But it definitely caught her attention when he gasped and sat forward, and suddenly looked very, very pale.

"Charles?" Raven asked in alarm. She was coming out from behind the screen and stopped short, and at first he didn't answer her. "Charles?"

Finally he glanced up at her, distractedly. Whatever it was, it looked like he already planned to downplay it. "N-Nothing."

She wasn't having any of it. "That is not your nothing face," she said firmly, moving quickly to his side. "That is definitely your something-with-a-side-of-crap face." It was his terrified face, but she wasn't going to say that. It was the face he tried to hide from her when they came to take him to the labs. It was the face that broke her heart every time she saw even a hint of it.

"Charles, talk to me," Raven insisted anxiously.

He still wouldn't look at her, really. He kept glancing nervously at the door, instead. He licked his lips and swallowed before he said anything else. "It's…it's Cerebro. They've tampered with it. It isn't dangerous, exactly, it just—" He cut off abruptly, made that face again.

"Charles! It just what!" She really hated him, sometimes, for trying to protect her. She knew there must have been things that had happened in the labs that she could only guess at. She had only seen him afterwards, and sometimes he tried to explain a bit if she insisted enough and often he was much too silent on the matter. This seemed a lot like that.

"It isn't important…"

"The hell it isn't."

Suddenly he seized her hands and held them. "Raven, please. Don't. I'll be all right." His eyes pleaded with her to drop it, but she couldn't.

She squeezed his hands in answer. "Why are you telling me that? Why do you think you need to tell me that?" Raven questioned desperately.

But he only let out a breath that sounded far too much like a frightened sob, though he cut it off and swallowed it back and quickly released her hands when the door opened. He stood and she stood too, glaring at the guards that came in—to take him to Cerebro, she assumed.

Charles's face was forcefully impassive now, and he didn't struggle. It would have been pointless anyway—it always was—but he did it to make a point and the fact that he didn't bother with it this time scared her. It seemed he was doing it to keep her calm, but it was having the opposite of the intended effect.

Charles!

It's all right…

But he didn't sound like he believed it.

Charles, I'm so sorry; they won't listen to me! Oh god this is wrong…

Hank's voice was a litany in Charles's head, over and over and over apologizing for something that was not his fault. Charles had tried to quiet him to no avail, and now he just said nothing as the men on either side of him dragged him toward Cerebro. There were four of them this time, instead of two or three—one holding each arm and one in front and one behind. He wasn't going anywhere.

He didn't even have the comfort of grass or a breeze. The installation, when it had been moved here, had been placed inside the concrete walls of the facility.

Hank had warned him of what was going on as soon as he knew for certain, and Charles had gleaned a bit from Stryker's mind as well, to be sure. Stryker was there, waiting in Cerebro, and they still had Hank there as well though they hadn't bothered to bring him there in months. A few of the other scientists could run it now.

Erik had been right; Stryker was restless. He was taking matters into his own hands, with Erik out of the way for a few days. He wanted answers. He wanted to know what Charles and his friends were up to, and it seemed as if perhaps he was even beginning to suspect Erik.

It was bad. It was all much worse than he'd thought.

They were running out of time.

They screwed with it. I don't even know if they really knew what they were doing; they only knew what they WANTED to do. What Stryker wanted them to do. God…they only wanted me to tell them it wouldn't kill you, Hank had told him in panic, and then added, bitterly, or cause any permanent damage.

What do you mean? he'd asked anxiously.

Hesitation. The sense of dread from the young scientist and mutant. Guilt that shouldn't have been there. Charles, it's going to hurt. A lot. God knows what else it'll do to you. I don't even think they care about the coordinates this time. More panic. I tried to tell Stryker this is crazy but he won't let me fix it!

Now they were keeping Hank there in case something "went wrong," and Charles was fighting sudden nausea and trying to keep his own panic off of his face. He wouldn't give Stryker the satisfaction.

Charles heard Hank before he saw him, as they were pulling him up the spiraling metal-grated staircase into the installation. He didn't have to guess to know whom his friend was shouting at.

"—it's a scientific apparatus; not a torture device! You can't do this!"

His stomach turned, and when the guards had him out of the stairwell a moment later Hank cut off and paled when he seemed to realize that Charles must have heard that. The young scientist was cuffed to the railing on the other side of the platform, and Stryker was nearby smirking at them both.

Charles hadn't meant to struggle, but Raven wasn't here and Hank knew what was about to happen just as well as he did, and he didn't want Stryker to see that sort of reaction from him but natural instinct took over.

Just because he had been through quite enough of it in the last year a half by no means meant he liked pain.

Quite the opposite, really.

It took all four of the guards to get him in the chair, and it took them longer than it had the very first time—so long ago now, it seemed.

Stryker approached him, and his smirk had taken on a knowing tick to it now. "He told you what's going on here, didn't he?" he said, nodding toward Hank a bit.

Charles only glared at him.

"I know you're planning something, Xavier. You think you can get out of here. Knowing you, you think you can get everyone out." He leaned closer. "I want to know how you think you're going to pull it off. Tell me now, and I'll let Big Foot over there fix the machine before we get started."

Hank snarled, for more reasons than one. Just because he was more comfortable with himself now didn't mean he took kindly to names. "Don't do this," he growled. "Just because it won't kill him and I'm relatively sure it won't cause real damage doesn't mean it's safe."

"That's why you're here," Stryker retorted.

Charles felt more and more sick to his stomach by the moment, and his fingers were starting to dig into the arms of the chair. The metal chair. God, where was Erik when you needed him?

No. Erik wasn't here and he didn't need to come back right now. It was obvious now that he needed the training more than ever if they were going to get out of here before everything came down around them.

And he didn't need to know about this.

"Don't you know what this is! You're no better than—!"

"Hank, stop talking!" Charles hissed, telling him silently as well. Hank's mouth snapped shut and he looked at him in surprise. Worry. Then after a moment…a small amount of understanding.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…

Hank, please stop. This is not your doing…

Stryker motioned to the other two scientists milling about by the console—the two who were usually there now. The platform was a bit crowded at the moment, really.

Cerebro began to power up, and Charles felt his chest tighten and his breathing quicken against his will. He didn't want Stryker to see him panicking; as it was the man looked far too smug as he pulled the headpiece down over Charles's hair himself.

"This should hurt quite a bit," he said unnecessarily, almost nonchalantly, sounding as if he was explaining anything else and not anything remotely like what he was really saying. "We'll see how talkative you are in a few minutes. If it takes longer…I have all night."

It took everything Charles had not to find Erik or Raven or both of them and latch on before the machine activated. If he did they would know, and they would feel it, and maybe it would help but he couldn't do that to them.

Then the machine came on.

There was the usual illusion of a flash as his consciousness shifted and expanded and suddenly he was everywhere and perhaps there was always some level of discomfort involved just from the sheer intensity of it but nothing could have prepared him for this.

He had nothing to compare the agony to—molten lava between his ears or having his brain torn apart while still inside of him would have been a poor start. Faintly he heard screaming but it took him a while to associate the sounds with his own throat.

In the background Cerebro was still doing what it was supposed to do—it was using his powers to find other mutants—and he knew it but he couldn't focus on it. He didn't know whom Cerebro was finding or what they could do or how many of them there were or if it was doing any of that well enough for any of the coordinates to even be recorded.

Charles only knew that knew that nothing in his life had ever hurt this much.

He was wondering—not really wondering, because he couldn't think—how much of this he could take when it stopped.

The world reasserted itself slowly, and as it did it wouldn't stop moving and he finally realized that he was trembling. His fingers still bit into the arms of the chair, white and bloodless, and now his hands ached from holding on too tightly.

Charles!

Hank silently called to him in alarm, and even the small bit of telepathy sent a shiver of pain down his back and he pulled in a sharp breath. Oh god, Hank, not now!

He heard himself panting, and Stryker's arms were crossed and his brow was furrowed and he was glaring. "Well?"

Charles gulped noisily, trying to work up the strength to speak. "W-well…what?"

But Stryker just glared, and with a small motion of his hand Charles's consciousness shattered again. Everything hurt. Everything. It was all in his head, but it was everywhere, and there was too much and too many minds and too much pressure and everything burned and ached and stung all at once and it was too much.

This time it lasted longer, he was pretty sure. It had seemed long enough the first time but this time it was an eternity. This time when it stopped he was soaked in sweat and his hair hung damp and limp in his face and his face was wet. Every so often his chest shuddered against his wishes and he knew he'd been sobbing.

He didn't have the energy to care anymore that Stryker was seeing all of this, but still Charles pulled himself together as best he could as the man approached him. He couldn't quite manage the icy stare he'd wanted, but there was nothing he could do about that. He could scarcely hold his head up.

"Anything you'd like to tell me?" Stryker asked coldly.

"Not…particularly." He was amazed by how much effort that took.

The man seemed rather angered by his continued lack of cooperation, and at that he pushed the headpiece of the machine up and out of the way, grabbed a fistful of Charles's hair and yanked his head back. Charles didn't have the strength to keep himself from crying out in what turned out to be an embarrassingly pathetic manner.

"I'm not making this up, freak. I've got all night."

"If you keep this up all night you really will kill him," Hank cut in angrily.

"Shut up," Stryker snapped.

"I'm not making this up!"

"You said it wasn't dangerous!"

"I never said that! You wanted to know if your 'modifications' would kill him outright or cause any permanent damage, and I told you no, but I also told you that it still might if you kept it up for any length of time! I told you it shouldn't be done at all. I told you this was crazy and that it sure as hell was dangerous!"

"You're his friend; you just don't want him hurt."

"Damn straight, but I'm not lying to you either."

Charles, meanwhile, was straining neck muscles trying to keep from feeling as if his head might snap off at any moment if Stryker didn't let go. It hurt. His head was already on fire and he didn't have the strength to do it much longer.

Stryker looked down at him now and yanked again, pulling a strangled moan from his throat. "You heard him; I would suggest you get with the program, Xavier, unless you want your brain turned to mush."

Despite himself he was able to laugh weakly at that. "You can't…let that happen. I doubt…your superiors would take…it very well."

"Don't be so sure." He pulled again, to the side now, tightening his fingers suddenly in the strands of the hair until Charles let out a startled yelp of pain. "What are you planning?" he demanded.

"Nothing," he gasped. It was a lie, but Stryker he had no qualms about lying to. Charles glared at him. "If…we were…I certainly would not tell you."

The man let go abruptly, angrily, and pulled the headpiece down again before he crossed to look at the printouts. He smirked. "Well, it looks like we're still getting coordinates. This isn't a complete waste of time." He looked to one of the scientists at the console. "Turn it back on."

"Don't!" Hank shouted.

Charles didn't mean to sob before it came back on, but he did, once, out of a bone-deep fear that he knew he shouldn't be ashamed of but he was. He hoped Stryker hadn't heard it but he doubted he was that lucky.

And then everything splintered around him again, and when he started to scream once more he realized his throat was already becoming raw.

Some small, hysterical part of him noted that he probably wouldn't be able to talk tomorrow, and then he thought nothing because he couldn't. Around him were minds, other mutants, so many of them, and he knew that part of his mind was registering them and allowing the machine to record their whereabouts, but he couldn't focus close enough to do anything about it. He couldn't focus on any of it. For a long time he was only aware of the pain, and then he wasn't aware of much at all.

That was when he realized that he was being drawn to one mind in particular, and through the agony he didn't realize until it was too late that the power he was sensing belonged to a girl of no more than four or five. He couldn't see her and he didn't know her name—he couldn't focus that well now; he couldn't do anything, really—but he knew how small she was. Desperately he tried to shove awareness of her back into the pool around him, but everything only hurt that much more for the attempt and for a moment everything was only white and pain and sobbing.

A small voice in his mind. The girl. He knew, at least, that it wasn't her primary mutation but she had to have some telepathic ability to call out to him when he hadn't spoken to her first.

Who are you? Why are you hurting? Can I help? Let me help!

Charles blinked through the tears and tried to push past the agony, trying to latch onto the presence without letting any of the pain through. They already knew where she was; he had failed in that regard and now there was no reason not to answer her. His presence had scared her and he couldn't leave her like that. He couldn't think much at all but he knew that much.

A small face framed by red hair even brighter than Sean's began to take shape in his mind. Who…are you?

Jean. I'm Jean.

Chapter Text

The small and innocent, yet powerful presence in his mind was startling. Connecting himself to it didn't dull the pain—Charles was still mostly aware of the agony—but somehow this girl's presence made it easier to focus beyond it. To push it farther back in his consciousness and focus on being able to communicate with her. He felt power from her that he didn't think she knew she had, and somehow he knew that if were not for that power he would not be able to focus on anything at all right now.

It would only be the pain.

But instead, there was the girl. Jean. Jean Grey, he gleaned from her mind. Her primary mutation was telekinesis, he gathered now, but the telepathic ability she had allowed her power to feed him, to keep him grounded enough to speak to her. Suddenly he was standing in a small girl's bedroom in a suburban home, and she was there, sitting at a small desk with coloring books and crayons.

He could still feel the cold metal of the chair under him—still feel his fingers digging into the arms and his teeth clenching in his jaw and the sweat beading on his skin—but he was here, too. In Jean's mind. Where she was.

The girl dropped out of the chair to stand, staring at him wide-eyed, and she was so small. Her defining features were her bright, intelligent eyes and the red hair that hung about her face like flames. And even though her eyes were wide she didn't seem too incredibly surprised to see him there…only curious.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Charles. It's very nice to meet you," he said, and though he couldn't help sounding a bit incredulous, it was.

She smiled a little, and looked at him…at the fact that he was here. "How did you do that? How'd you get here?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted truthfully. Usually he wasn't quite this painfully aware of his body when he entered someone's mind to speak to them this way, and usually it was some sort of neutral ground rather than where the other person was. And usually, of course, it was a conscious decision.

But…he had not decided to come here this way. It was as if he'd been drawn.

"Oh…" She looked him up and down curiously. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Charles glanced down at the brown jumpsuit, and in a moment it had changed. That he could control. Now he wore the khakis and buttoned shirt he was used to, with a navy cardigan—the sort of clothes he hadn't worn in 18 months. It was almost strange to be in them again, even in his mind, but it was less confusing and frightful for a four-year-old girl and that was what mattered.

"Is that better?" he asked, smiling a little.

The girl frowned. "You're lying. You don't look like that right now. And you're hurting. Why do you hurt? Who's being mean to you?"

Charles let out a breath, and took a careful step forward before lowering himself to one knee in front of her. He looked into her eyes, and they were all concern and fear with a clarity that a girl her age should not have had yet. "That isn't important."

She looked hurt. "But…I want to help." She frowned in confusion. "I don't know how I could help…I just kinda know I could."

She could. If what he felt from her was any indication, she was powerful—or she would be, when her powers developed. But the raw power was there, inside her, and she could help him if he let her. But he wouldn't. He wouldn't let her, because it would likely come at great cost…of her innocence, at the very least. If she helped him there would be no way to shield her from what was really happening to him.

"Thank you, Jean," Charles said gently. "I appreciate it, but there is nothing you can do for me."

"You sure?"

He swallowed. "I'm sure. But…Jean, there is something you need to do."

"What?"

"You need to leave." He glanced around at the room they seemed to be in, and when he looked back he gently took her arms. "You need to tell your parents there is danger, and you need leave this place."

She blinked. "Leave home?"

He nodded quickly. "There are…people. The people who have me, where I really am, who are…being mean to me—"

"Where are you?"

"That doesn't matter either. I don't want to scare you, and I'm so sorry, but they may be coming for you as well. You can't stay where you are."

"But…how am I supposed to make Mom and Daddy believe me?"

She had a point. He didn't know. She had some telepathic ability, but it was only just emerging, and she certainly didn't have the control to influence anyone. If she would ever even get that far with her telepathy; the greatest of her powers seemed focused on the telekinesis that she wasn't even entirely aware of yet. Small incidents…that was all. The same of the telepathy. Hearing things people didn't say aloud. He hated to be delving so blatantly into her mind, but he didn't think she noticed.

Besides that, he couldn't help it. His control was all but shot already—the stress on his mind from the uncalibrated Cerebro stripping it away almost as efficiently as the drugs they gave him in the labs.

He wondered if Stryker had foreseen that outcome.

"I…I don't know. I'm sorry. I wish I could help more, but…is there anywhere else you and your family could go? Grandparents who live some distance anyway? You could tell your parents you want to see them…"

"Maybe…"

"I'm sorry, Jean. Perhaps under other circumstances I could more properly help you, but I—" He cut off when a sudden spike of pain cut through the haze being here had pulled over most of it, and when he pulled in a breath and strangled a cry he felt Jean's alarm. He'd quickly released her arms to keep from squeezing them too hard, and the one foot he had under him slipped out and he was left on both knees. His hands went to his head to clench in his hair as he grimaced, and Jean's small hands shot out to curl around his wrists.

"What's wrong!" she wailed.

It took a moment to push the pain back again, at least enough to speak to her. "I…can't stay," Charles panted. "Please, just do what you can…you need to be away from here for…a while, at least. Several days. Weeks, if you can manage it." He didn't know if it would ever be safe for her, now that Stryker and friends had her coordinates, but that was a start. It was all he could do.

God, he wished he could reach out to her parents now, and be certain they would take their daughter and flee, but now he was having trouble even maintaining this connection with the girl, despite the fact that it seemed to have formed on its own.

"But what about you?" Jean protested. And it wasn't the petulant cry of a small child but real worry, though the voice was small and the question innocent.

She really thought asking might make a difference, and the last thing he wanted to do was destroy a bit of that innocence. Suddenly he was blinking back tears at the mere though of this girl coming anywhere near the facility he was trapped in. Anywhere near Stryker and his scientific lackeys.

"I'll be fine," he lied. With effort he managed to lower his hands from his head, but the pain was still there and he knew his time here was running out. "I have to go now. Please promise me that you will try to get yourself to safety. Please…"

Jean nodded quickly, and then she tipped forward to hug him tightly. The contact, even in her mind, temporarily sent the pain scurrying away again, to the corner of his mind.

"I'm glad I met you too," she said quietly. She was quiet for a moment, just holding onto him with her arms around his neck, and as he returned the embrace Charles had to wonder at the sudden sense of…something. Purpose? Foreboding? Destiny? All ridiculous words to associate with such a small girl, but her power gave them credibility. Even then he didn't know why he felt them, but they were there just the same.

Those feelings, and the feeling, too, that somehow this girl was his to protect.

He hoped he'd done a good enough job so far.

"I'll find you," she whispered then, and Charles would have protested. He would have told her not to try, and how could she anyway?

But then the pain was too much and the connection was lost, and everything faded violently back to the white of agony.

For long, long moments or more—there was no way to know—that was all there was. Tears and shaking and screams from a throat that was impossibly raw now, and in the background somehow the machine still did its job, and he was still seeing the minds around him instead of the interior of the installation.

When it stopped everything went black.

"Charles! Charles!"

By the time the world reasserted itself at all the headpiece of he machine had been moved away and the restraints around his wrists and ankles were gone and he was dimly aware of stinging around the skin where they had been. He'd pulled on them enough to break the skin, then, or at least scrape them.

It didn't really surprise him. His skin was clammy, too, and he was still trembling to some degree. It was Hank's voice in his ear and he winced, and turned his head where it had fallen against the back of the metal chair, turned it toward the voice, and finally let his eyes blink open, carefully.

Or he thought he had.

Charles blinked again but nothing happened, and his head would have snapped up in alarm if he'd had the energy for it.

But he didn't.

"Hank…" he trailed, and the only evidence of his sudden panic he could muster was the edge in his voice and the extra hitch in the breathing he was still trying to bring under control. He grimaced, too; his throat was a disaster area.

"I'm right here."

The voice was right next to him. Charles couldn't sense him, couldn't sense anyone, really—or, more accurately, he would have had no control if he'd let himself sense anyone, and he had no choice at the moment but to keep his abilities tightly strapped down. He was weak and it was hard and it hurt, but it was the only option right now.

He blinked again, more furiously now, somewhat in the direction the voice had come from. "H-Hank, I…" He coughed. "I-I can't…"

"I was afraid of that." A hand on his shoulder, the voice whispering now. "It's okay…it's only temporary. Too much stress on the optic nerves. Even though what you see in there is technically in your head the images still have to go through them so that you can 'see' them. It's actually a lot more complicated than that but I won't bore you with the details."

Charles swallowed hard and let out a weak breath, and let his eyes close again. "But…it's temporary."

"It should sort itself out in a few hours…a day or two at most. It's just that using Cerebro with it miscalibrated like this was a bit more than your brain and your eyes could handle. They just need to recover. Your control's probably out too…"

He nodded, and cracked his eyes open for a moment. When he did he realized, now, that everything was not quite pitch black but a deep dull gray, and if her squinted hard enough he could just make out the dim lines of larger shapes in the darkness.

He was all but blind for now, but it was not total and it was not permanent, thank god. If he had control again he could have used others' eyes, thanks to his abilities, and he supposed he could have survived that way, but he was much more thankful that this was only a temporary side-effect.

And with the small amount of adrenaline his body had mustered at the sudden panic gone, Charles was suddenly aware of how much he hurt. His head pounded in his skull and behind his eyes at once, and his entire body ached from tensing and shaking for so long.

However long it had really been.

And it did not help at all that he was still having to keep his powers reigned in. They were out of control, pushing to be released to do what they would, and he didn't know how long he could keep them at bay.

He was startled out of worrying about it when he was grabbed on either side and hauled roughly out of the chair, and Hank protested behind him.

"Hey! Take it easy!"

The guards didn't listen, of course; they only dragged Charles off of the platform and down the spiral staircase like so much baggage, and Hank's only reward, from the sound if it, was to be grabbed and dragged right after him.

Where was Stryker? Had he left while Charles was still out of it just after the machine had been turned off? He must have. He was sure the man would have spoken up by now if he were still here, if only to growl something menacing or derogatory.

It was one of the last truly coherent thoughts Charles had before being dragged down the metal stairs made him dizzy. Then on top of trying to keep his powers under control, and a splitting head and the trembling weakness and the aching throat he felt absolutely sick, which probably had something to do with the after-effects of so much pain, as well. Likely he would have been sick without the spiraling staircase, and though it wasn't incredibly long by the time they pulled him off the bottom of it and onto the concrete at the installation's base there was no keeping it back any longer.

The men holding him must have realized what was going to happen just in time, because they dropped him like a stone with disgusted noises and Charles's forehead smacked the concrete because he couldn't see it coming.

He wasn't sure he could have stopped the impact even if he had.

He managed to force himself back up enough that his face wasn't on the ground when what little was in his stomach came up, but the strength in his arms didn't last long. Faintly he heard struggling behind him, a quick step or two…and a hand on his shoulder held him up when his arms gave out and kept him from face-planting again.

Hank's other hand gripped his other arm, then, too, and the young scientist kept Charles somewhat steady for the good two or three minutes that he couldn't stop dry-heaving. A good amount of stomach fluid came up and left him even more queasy and with an awful taste in his mouth, but finally it stopped and now he felt even weaker. Pathetic. He fought back tears, glad beyond sense that Stryker was not here.

And the hands on his arm and shoulder tightened a bit in sympathy and Hank was a good friend, and Charles was grateful for the support, but with what little capacity he had left to think he suddenly wished that it were Raven or Moira or even Erik at his back now, because he would have been comfortable enough with any of them to just fall back into their arms and stay there until he could move again.

But it wasn't any of them, and they weren't somewhere safe. They were in the middle of the facility at Cerebro's base, and he knew he had to get up now.

He didn't think he could get up.

"Charles…?" Hank was asking.

Charles was wiping his mouth with the back of a shaking hand, and he grimaced. "I-I uhm…'m all right," he managed. He was lying, of course. He always did. But it was for them.

He didn't really have to worry, of course, about the getting-up part, because as soon as it was clear that he was done he and Hank both were pulled up again, and dragged on. Though he couldn't see where they were going Charles could tell that they didn't seem to be headed back to the cells, and for a long few moments he was worried until he remembered that it might well have been time for the evening meal. That was confirmed when the guards stopped, and a door opened, and the men at his back shoved him forward and were gone.

All Charles caught was the general noise of the prisoner cafeteria before he started to drop, but large slender hands caught him under the arms and it was Hank again, lowering him to the ground and pulling him back against the wall by the door just inside as the doors slammed shut behind them.

Awareness was becoming harder and harder as it became more and more difficult to keep his powers in check, and suddenly Charles knew he wasn't going to be able to do it forever. Not until they calmed themselves and true control returned. The crush of minds around him now was not helping, either, and suddenly it was that much harder to keep them out and his head pained him that much more and he was doubled over and Hank was giving a startled cry.

Raven. Raven was the one thing he could still make out clearly. She was here, of course; they wouldn't have been brought here if it weren't their group here now. Charles couldn't form sentences or really words at all in his mind at the moment. He couldn't send them. But he reached out weakly to his sister, tentatively, careful not to hurt her, and she felt him. She knew they were by the door and she was coming.

Raven felt more than heard her brother, and she knew he needed her without knowing why. Brief sensations of his surroundings—not images, strangely—gave her enough information that she turned around, looking for him and for Hank, and when she saw them on the ground by the door she pulled in a breath.

Charles looked like hell, and Hank did not look at all happy.

"Raven?" Darwin asked.

"What's up?" Sean wondered. "They back…? Oh."

Both of them turned to see what she saw, and Darwin grimaced and started to climb out of his seat immediately. "Damn…" he trailed.

Raven stood up quickly. "Give me a minute." He nodded, and she swept across the room as quickly as her legs would carry her, dodging tables and mutants all the same until she could drop to her knees at her brother's side. He was crumpled against the wall and he was pale and soaked in sweat and shaking, his eyes clenched shut, and her chest constricted painfully. God, he looked like he was still in pain.

"Charles?"

His eyes opened at the sound of her voice, and he moved a little. He didn't seem to have known she was there until then, and that was enough to worry her even further.

"R-Raven…"

"Yeah…" She reached out to cup his feverish cheek in her hand, and when it first touched him he jerked a bit, as if he hadn't noticed it coming.

That was when she realized that his eyes weren't focusing on her.

They weren't focusing on anything.

"Charles?" she asked again, more loudly this time, more worriedly. She grabbed his face, to a small startled groan, looked at him more closely and realized she was right. "Hank!" she cried, panicked.

Charles couldn't see.

"It's a temporary side-effect," Hank said quickly, a comforting hand on her arm. "It'll fix itself in a day or two at most—maybe even by morning."

Raven looked back to her brother. His face was still in her hands, one of his hands clamped around one of her wrists now as he winced, and she swallowed and kissed his forehead before she released him and his head dropped back against the wall again.

"Side-effect of what?" she questioned anxiously. "Cerebro did this?" Charles had said they'd tampered with it, but that was all he would say. And he'd tried to tell her he would be all right, but she'd seen the fear on his face.

He'd known something like this was going to happen.

But neither of them answered, and Raven looked at Hank pointedly. "What did it do to him?" she repeated.

He wouldn't look at her. "Nothing permanent," he muttered.

"I'm right here," Charles whispered weakly, in protest of being spoken about in the third person. His breathing was growing harsher by the moment, the hunch in his back more pronounced even though he had the wall to lean against, and Raven made a face and made a move to help him up.

"I'm sorry…come on; let's get you back to the table." It wouldn't be wise to stay where they were much longer. The guards near the door were beginning to glare at them.

Charles moaned as she and Hank pulled him up, and she didn't bother to ask whether either of them wanted anything to eat. Charles clearly would not be able to handle food, and Hank really didn't seem to be in the mood.

Sean and Darwin shot up immediately and hurried to them to help get Charles the rest of the way to the table, and when they had him there and settled on the bench he immediately curled over the table top and buried his head in his arms. Raven sat beside him, close enough that they were touching, hoping that might help in some way. He was still shivering and seemed to need the body heat, and when he began to groan softly she rubbed his back in gentle circles and the sounds subsided a bit.

Her other hand Hank held, apologizing over and over in her ear for not being able to protect her brother.

"I—they wouldn't listen to me," he whispered angrily.

"But what did it do?" she asked quietly. Charles didn't seem to be hearing anything right now, much less them, and she had to know. The face Hank made when she posed the question again told her she didn't really want to know, but that wasn't going to stop her.

Hank finally let out a long, weary breath and answered. "It just…they threw off the calibrations. Big time. It…the machine still did its job, but…"

"But what?"

"It hurt him…it hurt him a lot. He's weak, and his control is shot, and the stress on his brain and the optic nerves caused the temporary blindness. Like I said, it should all right itself it in a day or so at most, but...it was just bad."

Raven blinked back tears and found herself leaning farther into her brother's side. "God…"

"I'm sorry…"

"It's not your fault, Hank." Her jaw clenched. "I am going to kill Stryker."

"Not wise…"

That came from Charles, and she realized he'd been listening to them all along. Raven let her hand move up from his back to his head and began to thread her fingers through his hair instead. "Shh. Rest."

He listened to her, thank god, but by the time the bell went off and everyone began to crowd back toward the cells, urged on by the guards, Charles could hardly catch his breath. It took her, Hank, and Darwin, with Sean spotting, just to get him back to the cell, and when they had to separate at the door and she was left to support her brother on her own it didn't work well. As the door closed behind them Charles collapsed bonelessly against the wall, though the part where he dragged her down with him somehow seemed quite deliberate.

"Raven—" he gasped.

"What?" she questioned. "What?" He suddenly sounded so desperate, and she couldn't fathom why. Her chest clenched again.

She was holding his arms and he fumbled for her hands. "Raven, I-I need you to…do something…for me…"

She really did not like the tone he said that with.

"What…?"

Charles pulled her hands up and clumsily placed them on either side of his head. He could barely speak between the gasps for air through what was obviously, now, a great deal of pain, and she didn't understand what was hurting him so much.

She wanted it to stop.

"I c…I'm going to lose…control, I can't…" He groaned. "It's taking too…much to keep…powers in check. God! Ah…" He cried out and moaned again, and now there were tears on his face. He sobbed weakly. "I don't want to…hurt anyone. I n-need to be unconscious—"

"What?" Raven said sharply. She pulled her hands away quickly, and he gave a small cry of surprise at the sudden absence.

"Raven—" he managed desperately.

"No no no no no I can't—can't you just put yourself to sleep?"

His jaw was clenched now, and he shook his head minutely. "Not right now," he forced out. "Not…without control…please, Raven…" Charles reached out again, found her shoulders, her arms, slid his hands down them to find hers, but she pulled them away again and he sobbed once more.

"Raven!"

"I can't do that!"

Her brother made a loud, inarticulate sound of pained frustration and knocked his own head back against the wall. Then, suddenly, he was quieter. His face was very serious and though it was clear he was still in pain he schooled his features when he reached out blindly and took her face in his hands when he found it. Once he had it he squinted at her, and he seemed to be able to focus on something, at least, now, if just the outline of her face.

Raven looked back apprehensively.

Charles spoke between harsh breaths, though he seemed to be attempting to school those now too. "Raven…if I truly lose control…and I will if I am awake much longer…I will hurt you…and I will hurt others. I…I don't know how strong I still am, but…there is also the possibility that I could kill you." His voice broke. "Please. I need you to do this.

Her voice trembled when she answered, her hands clamped around his wrists where she'd grabbed them as if to pull his hands away at first, before he'd begun talking and she realized how serious he was. "Charles…"
"I know…you can. You're strong enough…physically. To do it…right the first time…I have every confidence in you…"

"Charles—"

She understood. Raven knew he was right, but that didn't make her any more eager to do it.

"It's all right…"

"Charles—"

Suddenly he groaned loudly, and a choked sob pulled itself from his raspy throat. "Raven! Hurry!"

"All right! I—"

As if in emphasis he seemed to lose it, just for a moment, and a lance of pain shot through her head and pulled a shout out of her before quickly subsiding.

"RAVEN!" Charles screamed.

She reacted before she could think too much about it, grabbing his head on either side where he'd placed her hands before, and quickly trying to judge the right amount of force to use—enough to knock him out soundly but not to break his neck, because in her natural form she knew she was certainly strong enough to do that without a horrible amount of effort.

And at the last second, desperate to be sure she didn't really harm him, Raven did something she had sworn to herself she would never do again—she shifted into her blond human form, to be certain she wouldn't be strong enough to do any permanent damage.

The she'd shoved before she was really aware of it, and Charles's head hit the wall with a dull thud.

Abruptly his gasping stopped and the moans stopped and he slumped to the side. Raven caught him, losing the form and shifting to blue again, and she didn't know she'd shouted when she did what she'd done until she heard the sound dying around her in the sudden quiet.

Sobbing quietly, she lowered him to the floor against the wall and got up only long enough to snatch his pillow and blanket from his bunk. She gently pulled his head up and pushed the pillow under it and arranged the blanket over him, but once she had done that she couldn't bring herself to leave him again.

Now she wished, once more, that she had his gifts. If she did would be contacting Erik herself right now, telling him to get his ass back here. Because she knew that when Charles woke up and regained control…even if he did contact Erik it would not be to tell him to come back. Charles was too stubborn for that.

But she couldn't do it. She wasn't telepathic. There was nothing she could do. Raven lay down beside him, instead, buried her face in Charles's chest and latched an arm around him as his breathing evened out.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, before she started to cry.

But there was so much that had happened to him and so much she could be apologizing for that she didn't really know which it was.

Chapter Text

Charles was quite warm when he woke, which was not a usual thing. The cell blocks were kept at a stable temperature that was not cold but not quite warm either. It wasn't uncomfortable, really, but night always felt colder even under a blanket. Right now, though, he was almost sweltering, but the question was answered when he shifted a bit and felt the weight against him.

Raven. It would be Raven, of course, and when he let his eyes flicker open there was a haze of blue and orange and brown that slowly became less and less blurry.

He could see now, then. That much was encouraging. His vision cleared a good bit as he blinked, but it was still a little fuzzy, though he supposed that too would right itself in time.

Charles tried moving again, tried pushing himself up on an elbow, but he quickly let himself fall back against the wall again when such movement proved to make him incredibly dizzy. He let his head drop back to his pillow—Raven must have put it there, along with the blanket draped over him, bless her—and let out a breath. He supposed he couldn't take things too quickly, after that. His head still pounded some, though he didn't feel the need to worry about his powers. Not too much, anyway. For the most part they seemed weak but under control. Slightly shaky, maybe; the mental equivalent of the queasiness left over in his stomach, but nothing more.

And beyond that, despite the shakiness his powers seemed to have recovered more quickly than his body. He couldn't quite grasp the more unfamiliar minds in the facility, but when he reached out tentatively he could easily feel Moira, and sense Erik even miles away.

Both of them were on the verge of panic.

Oh dear…

Raven shifted in her sleep, her arm still slung around his waist and her head pressed into his chest, and Charles settled an arm over her shoulders in return to keep her calm and asleep—she needed the sleep—and reached out to Moira. He would have contacted both of them—he could do that, split his consciousness of a sort and speak to both of them at once—but right now even though their panic would have prompted him to do so he didn't think he could handle two conversations at once. Not until he was stronger again.

Moira, I'm here. What's wrong? He knew, of course, but part of him hoped that somehow she didn't know.

It was the middle of the night and she shouldn't have been up at all, but she responded immediately. Charles! Thank god, I was afraid…I-I don't know what I thought, but what happened is already all over the base. Rumors. I don't know what's true and what isn't. What did Stryker do to you? Are you all right? What I heard sounded awful.

Charles hesitated before answering, unsure of what to tell her. I'm all right now. Mostly. Still a bit queasy, I suppose, but it will pass.

You sound a little different than usual…

My powers are still recovering as well, I'm afraid. I'm sorry if it's alarming; am I…'louder,' than usual?

Something like that.

It's that my control hasn't returned completely…

Oh…It was a long moment before she continued. What happened, Charles?

He shook his head mentally. Does it matter? I'm fine.

I've spent the last eight hours worrying myself sick over you and that's all I get?

Charles winced. I'm sorry, it's just…I don't particularly think you want to know.

You shouldn't have said that. Now I have to know.

Moira—

Charles, please, she pleaded, almost desperate.

Charles swallowed and took a breath. It's…it was Cerebro. That's all. Stryker had the calibrations thrown off, and it was a bit…rougher than usual. That's all. It was the grossest understatement he had come up with in a while, but he didn't have the heart to tell her anything else.

That's ALL? She echoed skeptically. Charles, what I heard made it sound like what happened almost killed you.

Well THAT is certainly not true. And about that, at least, he was not lying. Perhaps the entire ordeal had been far more painful than he ever cared to remember again, but it had not, in fact, been life-threatening. Theoretically.

Charles…

Moira, I am all right. Please, get some rest.

He felt the equivalent of a long sigh, and Moira still did not sound happy. All right…all right. As long as you do.

Of course.

It was a long moment before she said anything in good night. I love you.

Charles pressed his eyes closed and swallowed hard. I love you, too. Then she was gone, attempting to find some semblance of sleep, and he was alone again, and it was several minutes before he could compose himself enough to contact Erik.

Why did it have to hurt this much that he couldn't see her?

When he did reach out to Erik he hadn't even said anything before Erik felt his presence and responded immediately.

Charles, where the hell have you been! I haven't heard from you all day! I'm in the middle of packing; I was coming back if I didn't hear anything.

No, no, don't do that. Everything is fine.

Don't give me that. You sound off; what happened? Erik demanded, and Charles had to smile a little at the level of protectiveness in his friend's voice.

I'm fine, Erik.

That doesn't answer the damn question.

He didn't want to lie, but he certainly didn't want Erik to know the truth, either. Erik was likely to kill Stryker outright if he knew. He wouldn't, Charles hoped, because it would jeopardize everything they were planning, but he would want to.

There was…an incident, but—

Are you hurt?

Not physically.

Damnit, Charles! Erik snarled. I'm coming back.

NO! You need to stay, Erik. You know you do. Besides that, coming back would serve no purpose. It's over; there is nothing you can do, and I'm all right.

Being cryptic about it is not making me feel any better, Charles. Damnit, Stryker is dead. Whatever it was is his fault, isn't it? It's always him…and I'm still coming back. I'm half packed anyway.

Then unpack. Please, Erik, at least one more day. Give it one more day. You know everything rides on this.

On me, you mean. No pressure, hmm?

Charles sighed. I'm sorry.

It's not your fault, Charles. I just hate not being there.

Erik…you can't protect me, he sent back quietly, because he knew why Erik felt that way. Erik tried to hide it from him—how much he felt like keeping Charles and Raven safe and to some extent the others as well was up to him—but Charles knew. He'd known from the beginning, the moment that feeling took shape in Erik's mind and stayed.

Erik growled a bit. I can sure as hell try. This is my fight now too, Charles. That's why I'm training to end it.

I know…and I appreciate the sentiment, but you can't allow your feelings to control you, and you cannot allow them to put in danger the chance that we have here.

You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?

Charles hesitated. No. Not now. But…if you'll stay another day I'll try to explain when you return.

Erik was silent for a long moment, and finally he sighed. Fine. I'll stay today, but I'm coming back first thing the next morning.

Agreed. But…Erik, please be cautious once you're back here. I'm not certain, but I believe Stryker may already suspect something of you.

Another soft growl of annoyance, though this time it wasn't directed at Charles. All right. And in this conversation Erik was first to tell him to get more rest. It's the middle of the night; go back to sleep.

Good night, Erik.

When Raven woke one of her brother's arms was around her shoulders, and he'd shifted positions some and seemed more at ease now. Either he'd woken up at some point or he was really sleeping now, rather than unconscious. Whatever it was, he looked better—less pale and shaky, and he was breathing in and out steadily as he slept. Once she'd assessed that she stopped moving, not wanting to wake him. It was still early morning yet, she guessed. He had time to sleep.

"I believe I've slept as much as I'm going to," he mumbled then.

Raven jumped and pushed away from him, slapping his arm. "Gah! Don't do that!"

Charles chuckled a bit and opened his eyes to focus on her blearily. But there was focus there. He could see her. "I'm sorry. I woke up quite in the middle of the night and I did sleep after that, but I've been awake for a bit. I was trying not to wake you."

She let out a breath and relaxed again as he sat up against the wall. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, actually." He paused. "Thank you."

Raven didn't answer that with anything more than a nod, because she couldn't. Instead she shifted forward and reached for his face. "How are your eyes?"

He blinked a few times, as if testing. "They're all right; hardly blurry at all anymore."

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"None. Your hands are on my face."

She pulled one back and held it in front of him. "How about now?"

He smiled indulgently. "Three. Really, Raven, I'm fine."

"Okay, okay…" She sat back on her heels, wondering what Charles was doing when he studied her for a long moment. "What?" she asked finally, uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," he said then. "I hated putting you on the spot like that. I never would have asked you to do that if—"

"You'd had a choice. But you didn't. I know that, Charles. I understand." That didn't mean it was any less awful to remember, but she did understand, and she wasn't angry with him. Raven swung around to sit against the wall beside him, against his shoulder, and Charles's arm went around her and held her.

He didn't have to say anything for her to know that he knew.

That morning Raven practically stood over him, unrelenting in her pestering until Charles had eaten every bit of his breakfast and half of hers. He needed to get his strength back, she said, and though he protested he knew she was right.

The ordeal with Cerebro had taken quite a lot out of him.

And yet, even in the wake of such a thing, it seemed fate could not let him have one day of peace.

In the yard that afternoon, it was one of the rare days where they had managed to procure the use of one of the large space's few tables. Raven had insisted that they try—that Charles shouldn't be on his feet too much yet—and Hank, Sean, and Darwin had succeeded. Charles, though he wanted to appear unbothered and recovered, was still exhausted and couldn't help slumping over the table at times. At least he managed not to let his head fall.

Until a sharp spike of emotion drilled into his mind, driving his face into his arms as he let out a sudden cry.

"Charles!" Raven's hand was on his back immediately, worriedly. "What?"

"No," he gasped.

Fear and horror and desperation and nononowhymenotme! and images, making him twist to look at the guard tower at the side of the yard even as he sucked in a sharp breath. The others followed his gaze. "Someone's back there," he said quickly.

More details assaulted him when he pressed his fingers to his temple, and he grunted, unable to completely buffer himself from the painful effect they had with his control still weaker than usual. The space behind the guard tower was small, but large enough for the panicked young woman whose thoughts he was picking up and the small group of facility guards five or six strong that surrounded her with wolfish grins.

It wasn't the first time such a thing had happened. Often enough Charles caught the offending thoughts in the guards' minds and pushed them aside before they could come to fruition. When the thoughts made it as far as action Charles usually managed to disperse such incidents before they began, and no one retained any memory of it whatsoever. This was something that should not be happening, and one of very few things in the past many months he had been willing to use his powers to influence even at risk of being discovered.

Raven agreed with the risk, and nothing had ever gone this far before he'd noticed before. Two of the guards had the girl pinned against the wall of the guard tower's base, one in front of her holding her chin tightly, and the others—two more? Three? Three—crowded in.

Charles was already standing, stepping back over the table's bench to free himself and letting his fingers fall from his head. He didn't need the extra focus to stay connected now, as strong as her emotions were, and it would only draw attention to himself anyway. "Hank, Darwin, Sean…" he said urgently. They started to follow him without complaint, understanding his haste when he sent them the briefest version of what he had seen.

The looks on their faces would have told him they were with him even if he hadn't felt it, too.

It must have gotten through to Raven, as well. It was clear on her face. Damnit, it was rare that he could keep anything from her when his defenses were low. They were too deeply connected.

She shot to her feet and grabbed his wrist as he tried to move quickly off. He almost lost his balance from the force of it combined with his weakness. "Charles, you're not strong enough," she said, pleading. "What if you can't think them down?"

"That's why we're going with him," Darwin said immediately.

"You're still outmatched; six to what? Three and a half? You can't fight, Charles. You can barely stand up straight. And do you know how much trouble you'll be in?"

He pulled his hand from her grasp. "We have to try. Please, we don't have time for this." Behind the tower the girl was crying, her skin rapidly changing colors with her emotions. That was her mutation, but it wasn't helping her as the guard smirking and holding her chin bruisingly fumbled for his belt with his free hand.

"Look, I care, but you happen to be my priority and I don't want anything to-"

But if she continued he didn't hear her, because Charles had twisted and taken off for the guard tower as quickly as his admittedly unreliable legs would take him. Darwin, Sean, and Hank were close on his heels, and he drew them all to a stop at the guard tower's side. He edged to the corner but didn't go around. From here it was easier to sense the guards individually with his weakened powers, and he quickly brought his fingers to his temple again and focused on all six of them.

Stop this. NOW, he sent angrily, along with a healthy dose of confusion. All of them froze immediately, not truly frozen but suddenly unsure of what they were doing. Perhaps the boys would not be needed after all, which would be preferable. Charles didn't want this to escalate to violence that would only cause more trouble. Not if it didn't have to.

The guards were still confused, and now the girl was, too. Now Charles stepped around the corner, motioning for the others to stay out of sight where they were, and let the girl see him. Let her go. They did, and Charles thought to her next.

Go. Quickly. Back out into the open.

She nodded quickly, silently, choking back a small sob as she pulled the top of her jumpsuit closed again and hurried out into the sunlight. Charles asked Raven to be sure she was all right, and his sister grudgingly agreed.

Then he lost his hold on the guards.

It was unintentional, but there were six of them and he was weak, and his control slipped and suddenly their minds were clear again. And they saw him.

Charles couldn't get a grip on them quickly enough, and within seconds they were glaring at him. Angry thoughts crowded their minds, and the confusion didn't seem to have worked well enough for them to forget what they had been doing before it hit. Now they knew what he had done.

Charles backed up, planning to join his friends around the corner and get them all back into the crowd, but he knew it probably wouldn't help as much as he wished it would. Every one of the guards knew who he was, at the least, and it wasn't a good thing.

He made it around the corner and hurriedly urged the others to move more quickly back the way they'd come. Go go go. They're angry.

They moved, and Charles tried to, but suddenly there were fingers in his hair yanking him back and he cried out in surprise—laced with more than a little pain as several strands came out at the roots. He was pulled back against a tall, unyielding form, another hand on his throat now holding him there.

"If it isn't the local telepath," a harsh voice barked. "You think you're better than us, don't you?

Let me G—"Ah!" Charles cried out, his concentration broken when the sturdy younger guard yanked on his hair again. He tried to pull in a breath after that, but the hand around his throat tightened. He struggled, but two more of the men closed in and took over holding him. Hank, Sean, and Alex had already moved as if to help, but the other three guards had pulled their sidearms and had the three younger mutants frozen in place.

"Stay out of my head, you freak! You've caused enough trouble," snarled the one who'd grabbed Charles in the first place.

"Trouble?" he echoed incredulously. He felt the anger twisting his face. "You were going to rape that poor girl!"

And with Charles held between the other two now it was easy enough for the man to punch him—hard, and in the stomach. Charles doubled over, held up only halfway by the guards on either side of him. He was gasping for air once he could pull anything in at all, and above him the man who'd hit him was laughing.

"Really? Because it looks to me like you and your friends here tried to attack us. Mutants and their rebellious, violent nature. Who's Stryker going to believe?"

And he punched Charles again and Charles was seeing spots, and then he was face-down on the concrete and the sharp familiar sting of a whip bit into his back. Then again, then several times more but he had long ago stopped bothering to count, and from wherever she was now Raven was screaming in his head as well as out loud.

"What is going on here?"

Stryker. Stryker was down here. Mutants being punished for misbehavior in the yard was not uncommon, but the three guards who had drawn guns must have garnered attention. Stryker never came down here.

The next blow from the whip never came, and Charles choked back a groan as the tension in his shoulders eased and he slumped onto the ground under him. The concrete was certainly warmer than the early fall air…

He shook his head a bit and tried to focus on the words as the man who had beaten him lied through his teeth.

"—attacked us. Tried to draw us back behind the tower. Thought they could overpower us, maybe. I don't know. Stupid mutants…"

Charles forced his elbows beneath him and picked his head up. "That is not…what happened," he grated out.

Stryker was glaring at him immediately. "Did I ask you?"

"Doesn't matter…he is lying. He and several others…they had dragged a girl back there…they were going to rape her…"

And Stryker was striding toward him now and he knew what was coming. He tried to curl up to make it harder but the immaculate dress shoe connected with his stomach anyway and then he was curled even more, doubled over from the force of the blow and the pain that burst behind his eyelids with it.

"Posts, all of them," Stryker was growling. "The others you can let off tomorrow, but the telepath we'll leave out a while…see if it does him any good."

"You can't do that!" Shouting, not close but not far away either. Raven.

When Charles managed to look up again he saw the crowd that had been drawn as it dissipated. Some of the mutants were upset, some afraid, and some simply indifferent, and the guards—more of them now than before—were closing in, grabbing Sean and Hank and Alex and pulling them to the row of wooden posts at the edge of the yard.

And then two of them were grabbing his arms, and yanking him up, and Charles couldn't help but cry out. His head was pounding and his stomach ached and his back ached and stung and burned, and the results of the whip weren't as awful as they had been in the past but with everything else it was enough to leave him miserable and not fond of the idea of moving. It was enough, too, that when they dropped him to his knees by the nearest post and yanked his arms up everything faded out for a bit.

When awareness returned there was cold metal around his wrists, and his left arm ached now too because it had been bearing the weight of his head.

There was no crowd now—just a line of guards keeping anyone from coming near the four of them chained to the posts. Raven was trying desperately to get past them, and he didn't know how long she had been at it but he caught from the guards' minds that they were frustrated with her and seriously considering violence.

Raven, please! Calm down! They'll hurt you; I don't want that…

She stopped when she heard him, when she realized he was fully conscious again, and she looked at him. She backed off, finally, but glanced anxiously toward the entrance to the yard.

Stryker was returning, with one of the facility's scientists on his heels.

The small man in the lab coat also had a readied syringe in his hands.

By skimming their minds Charles knew what it was before they got to him. It was a suppressant, something they had been working on since the beginning. But it had never come out quite right; either it wasn't strong enough or it took too long to wear off, and Stryker had put a stop it its testing after being too often upset when Charles was not ready when they needed him in Cerebro.

But apparently Stryker was taking no chances today, and in panic Charles kicked out when the scientist tried to approach him and caught the man in the shins.

If he couldn't use his powers at all he couldn't keep up with Raven from here. He couldn't make sure she was all right. He couldn't contact Erik. He couldn't do anything.

The scientist jumped back and yelped, and Stryker motioned to two of the nearby guards. One of them, to Charles's chagrin, was the one who had nearly succeeded in violating the young woman he and the others had been attempting to rescue. The young guard seemed entirely too happy to oblige Stryker's order to keep Charles still, smirking as he sat on his legs while the other one grabbed Charles around the chest from behind to keep him from twisting. Only one frustrated "no" escaped his lips before, assured he would not be struck again, the short researcher with the syringe surged forward and quickly jammed the needle into Charles's hip through his clothing, without regards to how it might feel.

Charles shouted and jerked, but it didn't dislodge the needle and the contents were emptied. In seconds his perceptions dimmed.

Raven! I…it's…

Quickly he made her understand what had just happened, and why she wouldn't be hearing from him. The look on her face was not comforting.

Charles…

But again he didn't know if she continued, though this time it was because he could not hear her and not because he didn't have the time to listen.

It was gone. He couldn't sense anything…except for perhaps the faintest awareness that there were minds around him…and even being blind had not been as frightening as this.

Once again Erik did not hear from Charles all day, but he had promised that he would stay and he did. Still, he would have headed back as soon as evening came if he hadn't remembered that no one was let in or out of the facility after a certain hour. The perimeter was locked down for the night, and it would do him no good to go there now.

But he knew he would get no sleep if he tried, and he tried to stay out and get in a bit more practice, but he couldn't focus. At least he was more than satisfied with the progress he'd made before he began to worry about his friend when Charles had fallen silent. It wasn't that the extra day was completely useless without sharper focus—it was still good exercise—but he had done better earlier in the trip, and he would rather be back at the facility tearing it apart anyway.

Though, annoyingly enough, it was likely that it would still take a bit of time before he was truly ready to do that. He knew how, but…

Charles was right. They had to absolutely sure before they made a move.

Charles. God, the one brief conversation they'd had the night before had left Erik confused and concerned, and he didn't know what he would find when he made it back.

He was right; he got no sleep that night.

Night fell, and there were no more groups being brought to the yard and the guards were gone for the night. There was no reason for the prisoners left there to be guarded any longer; there was no one out here, and they certainly weren't going anywhere.

"I am sorry, my friends," Charles sighed aloud. He was still unable to reach anyone telepathically, and he feared the formula they'd used this time would take a while to wear off. "I did not mean for that to end like this."

Darwin snorted. "Man, you gotta quit with the takin' the blame for everything. We were with you the whole time; you know that. We make our own decisions."

"We didn't want that girl hurt any more than you did," Sean added.

"I know that, I just…well, thank you," Charles finished clumsily.

Hank looked up, squinting at him through the dimness. The moon was only a sliver, and it didn't help much in cutting the dark of the guard tower's shadow. That also made it chillier. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Hank…"

His head didn't hurt as much anymore and he was less sore, though he was a bit concerned about the untreated wounds on his back being exposed to the elements through the tears in his clothing. But they weren't deep and they had stopped bleeding hours ago, and with any luck infection wouldn't set in before he was allowed back to the cell blocks and they could be seen to.

"Really?" Hank contested.

But he didn't answer, and now Sean was studying the chains on his wrists.

"You know, I wonder if I could like, break these if I found the right frequency or something."

Charles's eyebrows went up. "With enough practice I imagine you could. You have more power than I believe you think you do, Sean, and your throat is a muscle just like anything else. There are likely many things you could do if you learned to control it. I've speculated in the past that you might even be able to attain some sort of flight, with the right sound waves."

"Really? You think so?"

"I'm almost sure of it, but unfortunately this is not the best place to try…"

Sean chuckled weakly, and they all fell silent for the night. The hours drug on and the others seemed to be able to doze off against the posts, but Charles was wide awake when he heard something off in the direction of the yard's entrance.

It bothered him greatly that he couldn't reach out to determine if someone was there, but soon enough a figure took shape in the dark.

"Charles? Where are you?"

Charles let out a breath of surprise at the whispered call. "Moira? I'm here." The figure gained more definition as it came closer, and then Moira was crouching in front of him and he could make out her face. "Moira, what are you doing out here? It isn't safe for you to—if you're seen…" Again, Erik had an excuse. She did not.

"I know, I know, but I had to see you." Her hand gripped his arm now. "My field team is leaving in the morning. I didn't know until today; I don't know how long we'll be gone."

His already dry mouth suddenly felt drier. "Oh…" And suddenly the fact that Erik was returning tomorrow wasn't so comforting anymore.

She swallowed hard. "Charles, whatever it is you and Erik are up to…if you get the chance to get everyone out of here, do it. If it's safer to go, don't wait for me…" He couldn't sense anything from her, of course, but still knew that she didn't want to say it.

He didn't want to hear it.

"Don't say that. If you really do want to come with us then I won't leave without you."

"You may have to, and you know if it comes down to it that you will. You always have everyone's best interests in mind."

He tried to. He wanted to. But here he suffered for it and he didn't know how much longer he could do it. He wanted to be able to go on, but not if it was going to cost him this. "Moira…" I won't give you up.

She looked away. "I just wanted you to know it's all right if you have to do that." But it wasn't all right. He could hear it in her voice.

No. "No. I won't. I—" But he knew she was right. If it did come down to that he would, because it would be the right thing to do.

Moira silenced him with her lips, pressed to his, and her other hand was at the back of his head now and the warmth soothed the soreness at the roots of his hair. "Please stop," she whispered against his cheek. "We already knew we might not get what we wanted."

"This doesn't mean we won't," Charles answered quietly. He still had to hope. Hope was one of the few things that had gotten him through in recent weeks.

Moira hugged him tightly, but the embrace was awkward with his elbows up by his face, and he couldn't return it beyond pressing his face into her hair. She changed the subject.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything with me; I didn't have anything left in my room…"

"It's all right. We'll be all right."

Her fingers found the edges of the rips at the back of his jumpsuit. "But…" There were tears in her voice now.

"I'm fine," he whispered.

"How bad is it?" she demanded.

"Not so awful, I promise. You needn't be upset."

Gently she kissed up his neck and the side of his face. "I will never get used to how stubborn you are."

"That's good, I suppose. You'll never be bored," Charles teased weakly. He caught her lips for a moment. "I love you." Their mouths weren't apart any longer than it took him to say it, and by the time they finally broke apart his breathing was ragged.

Moira's was too, but as soon as she had enough air she was kissing him again. Her arms dropped around his waist, tugging them closer together, and despite the fact that he still ached everywhere it all went straight to the base of his belly and Charles groaned into her mouth.

"You…have to go," he managed.

Moira seemed to realize what she was doing and reluctantly pulled back a little. "I hate leaving you here, trussed up like this. It's ridiculous; I can't believe how bad things have gotten here, and what Stryker did to you yesterday…."

"I'm all right. You keep forcing me to say that."

"I'm not forcing you to say anything; especially when it isn't true," she scolded.

Charles smiled in mild amusement. "I know."

Moira shook her head at him and wrapped her arms around him again. "Charles, if you have to leave before I get back promise you'll find me when it's safe enough. Promise me…"

"Of course," he breathed. "I'll always find you…"

"I love you," she said then, answering what he'd said moments before. They kissed again, and it was deep and sweet and the only goodbye either of them could manage.

Soon after that she was gone, and the others were still asleep, and Charles was alone.

Morning could not have come quickly enough, and Erik left for the mutant facility as soon as there was any light at all peeking through the curtains of the small motel room and he knew it was late enough that he would be able to get through the gates when he arrived.

It seemed Stryker was waiting to ambush him the moment he was in the building.

"You missed all the excitement, Mr. Lehnsherr."

Erik paused in the corridor, glancing back at the man with his bag still in his hand. "Excitement?"

"The telepath. He and his friends made quite the disturbance in the yard yesterday—left all of them out there last night, and I think I'll let him, at least, stay there a while longer."

"What? Why?" He faced Stryker now, but suddenly remembering what Charles had told him he quickly schooled his features.

"The men involved in the incident claim Xavier and his little group attacked them, but to be honest I don't particularly care what happened."

Of course he didn't, because Stryker had to know as well as Erik did that Charles would never attack anyone—much less goad the boys into helping him do it. No, whatever had happened the guards were at fault, and Erik's fist clenched tighter around the handles of his bag.

"What are you saying?" Erik asked evenly.

The man glared a bit now. "I'm saying I'm tired of waiting for results from you, Lehnsherr, and if you're not going to get me answers I'm going to find them myself. That telepath needs to be put in his place; after what happened the day before he still had the nerve to pull whatever he pulled yesterday, and I've had about enough of him. If he weren't so damn valuable he'd be dead."

Erik struggled to keep a straight face. This was a test. It had to be. If he reacted to any of this Stryker would know he wasn't on the level. "And what happened the day before?"

"We needed more coordinates and we were going to need him in Cerebro anyway, so I had a couple of the brainiacs throw off the calibrations in the installation before bringing him there—enough to make it decidedly unpleasant for Xavier but not enough to cause any damage or keep the machine from doing it's job. Thought it might knock some sense into him." Stryker huffed. "Much as he was screaming I'd have thought he'd think twice before pissing me off again, but no. Of course not."

That was why Charles hadn't contacted him the first day he'd seemed AWOL. Of course he wouldn't have been able to communicate that far after that. No wonder he'd sounded off when he'd finally talked to him that night.

Screaming? Erik suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and at the same time had an overwhelming urge to rip every strand of Stryker's white hair from his head.

In all honesty, he wanted to kill the man with his bare hands, but he doubted Charles would take kindly to that no matter what the man had done to him. Charles was too good for his own good that way.

"I see," he managed finally. Erik took a careful breath. "I just need more time. He—"

"Either he trusts you by now, or he doesn't. And obviously he doesn't, or there's something you aren't telling me," Stryker challenged.

"He trusts me; he's just careful."

The older man narrowed his eyes. "I mean it, Lehnsherr. If I don't get answers soon I'll put him in that machine again. I'll force it out of him."

Not strangling Stryker at that moment was the hardest thing Erik had ever done, next to saying what he had to say next. "And why would that matter to me? He's just a mutant. Do whatever the hell you want with him."

"Then why are you so adamant that we get the information your way?"

Finally he was able to let some of the anger through in the guise of common sense. Erik let his jaw clench. "Because it's less damaging to valuable assets. What were you thinking, Stryker? You don't know what that thing might really do to him when not used properly. No matter what your crackpot scientists told you it might very well cause damage, and certainly if you do that again."

The man just shrugged. "It's the war department that wants to find a way to use him; I don't give a damn. I'd be happier wiping these freaks out than keeping them here." And with that Stryker walked away.

To keep up appearances Erik had to bring his bag to his room before he could head back to the offices, and he couldn't run there, either, like he wanted to. He couldn't rush out to the balcony over the yard to look down and assure himself that Charles was there, was alive, would be all right, but he did make it there and finally, finally he did see his friend.

Charles?

Nothing. Below and on the far side of the yard Charles, Sean, Hank, and Darwin were each chained to one of the posts near the concrete wall, but it was too early for there to be a group outside yet. It was only them. The boys seemed fine—tired, maybe, hungry and thirsty, but Charles was hurt. Erik couldn't pick up many details from here, but his face was scraped up a bit, possibly from the concrete, and the angry red lines of several new wounds crossed his back.

Erik felt his hands clenching around the railing, but this time he was enough in control of his powers that he was able to keep the metal from bending under his fingers.

This time he knew his powers existed.

He sensed someone approaching from behind, and wished it wasn't Stryker but knew it probably was. A quick glance back confirmed this.

Charles? he asked again. Charles! It looked like he was conscious, but he wasn't answering.

"Is he drugged?" Erik asked abruptly.

"Of course. I'm not stupid; if we're going to leave him out there we don't need him to be able to do anything about it. Experimental formula—only suppresses his powers. Doesn't put him out of it or anything. If we didn't need him to use that contraption for us I'd probably have it administered regularly, but it's still too unreliable. No guarantee of how long or how well it'll effect him, and we need him ready when we need him."

"Ah."

Charles just couldn't hear him right now. There wasn't necessarily anything else wrong with him. That much, at least, was good to know. It explained his friend's silence yesterday and last night, and now everything was accounted for.

Then Stryker was gone again, and after another moment or two Charles looked up and caught his eyes. Erik couldn't quite tell from here, but he was relatively certain his friend smiled at him, as if to say I'm all right. Because that was what he always said. But even with that small reassurance, Erik knew it was not going to be easy waiting for night to fall.

When it did, when it was safe—or as safe as it was going to be—to find his way out into the yard, he did so as quickly as he could. He found Charles alone, because the others had been released when their group was there that day, and Charles smiled at him once Erik had found his way through the dark and knelt beside him.

"Erik. It is certainly good to see you, my friend. I'm afraid it's been…a rough couple of days."

Erik snorted at the horrible understatement. "I told you to stay out of trouble."

Charles winced. "I told you I would do what I could. I didn't lie…it just wasn't enough, apparently."

"I know everything, Charles. Stryker told me everything, and most definitely not in the sugar-coated terms you probably would have tried to put it all in."

His friend's mouth opened and closed, and then he looked away. "Oh."

"Were you really going to tell me about Cerebro?"

"I don't know what I was going to tell you…"

Erik's jaw clenched, and it hurt to do that and he realized how much he had been doing it today, on and off, worrying and trying not to worry and trying to contain his anger all at once. "Charles, we have to get out of here. Stryker will do that again if he doesn't get answers. He doesn't care what it does to you. He'll do it until he gets what he wants."

And even in the dimness he could see Charles well enough to make out the sudden fear in his eyes—more fear than Erik had ever seen there.

"Oh god, Charles," he whispered. "Was it really that bad?"

Charles swallowed convulsively and looked away again, and he was shivering now. It was chilly out here, Erik knew that, and though he knew with certainty that the shivering wasn't because of the cold he pulled his jacket off and settled it over Charles's shoulders anyway. It wouldn't stay there well, with Charles's wrists chained to the pole above his head and his arms half stretched up, and Erik had to keep an around his friend to hold it on enough to do him any good.

"Charles…"

"No, no, it—well it was, but I'm all right now, I—"

"You're scared to death. What the hell did it do you?" he demanded gently. As much as he was screaming…Erik couldn't erase those words from his memory, but he wanted to.

Charles let out an uneven breath and closed his eyes. "It just…it hurt, Erik."

It was the simplest thing he could have said, but somehow it was worse than any other way he might have put it. The way his voice broke when he said it didn't help, either, and Erik's arm tightened around him. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"You couldn't have done anything. Stryker does what he wants here." Charles's eyes opened again. "Anyhow, we can't go anywhere. Not yet. Moira's field team left this morning, and unless we can help it we can't do anything until they return. Or…I'd rather not. She wants to come with us and I'm no longer very inclined to stop her."

Erik's mouth pressed into a thin line for a moment. "All right…I suppose we should wait for you to get some of your strength back, anyway. We're going to need you, too; if I'm going to be ripping doors off hinges we don't want anyone getting in the way because they weren't warned."

"Are you ready?"

He winced. "I'd like to say yes, but I don't know. Thanks to you I've made more progress in the last few days than I have since I started, but how are we supposed to know for sure? If I'm ready for this?"

"I'm afraid that's something only you will know, Erik."

"Thanks, that's a big help." He sighed and reached into the jacket around Charles for the water bottle he'd stashed in the only pocket he had large enough to hold it. "Here. I have a feeling you need this."

Charles could have managed it on his own as Sean had, but this was Charles. Erik was comfortable with Charles, and he didn't think twice about opening the bottle and bringing it to his friend's lips himself. He had to let the jacket fall, but Charles didn't protest. He was busy enough swallowing the water.

Erik tilted the bottle away for a moment. "Take it easy; it has to have been at least thirty-six hours since you've had any liquid, and you don't want to do more harm than good." It wasn't an absolutely horrible amount of time, but it was long enough to be concerning. Charles nodded slowly, and when Erik titled the bottle up again he drank at a more moderate pace. Erik kept his other hand on Charles's shoulder to steady him.

"I hope that helps some, anyway," Erik sighed. Once the bottle was empty he picked up his jacket and stuffed the empty bottle back into the interior pocket.

"I do feel better, thank you," Charles assured him.

"I don't want to leave you out here."

"Neither did Moira, but I'm afraid you have no choice."

"Moira was out here?"

"Last night. To tell me that her team was leaving. I wouldn't have known if she hadn't, I…well, I suppose Stryker mentioned the drugs, as well."

Erik made a face. "He did. Charles, what happened yesterday? What really happened? I don't believe for a minute that you or any of the others attacked anyone."

And of course they hadn't. Charles gave him the other side of the story, and it only served to make him angrier. He hated the men who had caused the trouble, but more than anything he hated Stryker for not doing anything about it. "I can't believe him…" Stryker was going to die. There was no way around it. Before Erik left this place Stryker was going to die.

"Erik," Charles said sharply.

"I thought you couldn't be in my head right now."

"I felt that anyway, and it was rather clear on your face. We've been over this, Erik. Killing Shaw is not the answer to solving the problems of your past, and killing Stryker is not the answer to our current ones. It would make us no better than them."

"What if I said I didn't care?"

Charles smiled a bit. "I wouldn't believe you." He nodded toward the yard's entrance. "Now go on; you can't stay here."

Erik sat back for a moment. "Why not?"

"If you attempted to stay here all night it's likely we would both fall asleep, and you would be found in the morning. We certainly do not need that to happen."

"I have an excuse, remember?"

"But your position with Stryker is precarious at the moment. Something like that might only solidify his suspicions."

And Charles was right. Of course he was right. Reluctantly, Erik pulled his jacket back on. "I don't know when Stryker plans to release you. It'll be tomorrow if I have anything to say about it, but if not I'll be back tomorrow night…and I'll try to bring food."

Charles nodded in understanding. "Be safe," he said.

Charles felt lonelier than ever once Erik was gone, still not able to really sense anything, but at least he wasn't thirsty. He supposed that was something.

Still, as much as he wanted Erik to keep himself from the danger of any further suspicion, he was happy at the sound of shoes scraping the concrete again perhaps an hour or more after his friend had left.

"Erik?"

The sound moved around to the edge of the yard, near the wall where it was darker instead of coming straight to him…as if whoever were approaching didn't want to be seen too soon.

Not Erik, then.

"Who's there?" he demanded. Damnit, he hated this. He couldn't sense them. Things were just beginning to get through and he could sense…something. He knew someone was there, and he knew approximately where, but he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between Erik and anyone else as weak as the feeling was. He leaned forward enough to get his fingers to his temple, still warily watching the darkness by the wall.

Focusing helped some, but though he still couldn't sense much more that way he could sense enough to suddenly have a very bad feeling about this.

Whoever was there was not friendly.

But Charles didn't know that there was anything he could do about it.

"Who's there?" he asked again.

This time something happened. The figure darted from the shadows and then there was a hand over his mouth and another around his chest as whoever it was grabbed him from behind.

Charles struggled, trying to bite the hand over his mouth, and when it pulled away he shouted.

Then the hand was back, at his throat now, holding a short blade against his skin, and he stopped shouting. He froze.

"There's no one out here to hear you, freak," a harsh voice whispered. "No one cares."

The voice. He knew that voice. It was the guard from yesterday. The one who'd led the attack on the girl. The one who'd lied to Stryker.

Charles's breath hitched in his throat. "Wh…?"

The blade at his throat drew back, forcing him back against the man's chest unless he wanted to be cut. "You think you can make a fool out of me in front of my guys?" he breathed angrily, in Charles's ear. "You think you can save everybody? Fine, you saved the girl. I'll take you instead."

No. Charles moved, forgetting about the knife in panic. He'd hardly pushed away before his attacker swept the blade up and let it leave a gash across Charles's cheek. It hurt, but he managed not to cry out. He tried to pull away again but there was nowhere for him to go. He was chained to a pole.

The man shoved him forward, up on his knees against the wood, and then the knife was at the base of his neck cutting into the collar of his jumpsuit. "Stop!"

But there was a yank, and the already-tattered back of the thin suit ripped in half. Charles fought, but he only gained painful gashes on his arms, and then the sleeves were cut and the pieces of the brown garment fell away from the top half of his body completely.

"STOP! What are you—!"

There were hands under his t-shirt. The knife was gone and both hands were on his skin, sliding from back to front and toward the hem of his boxers, and he knew where they were going.

"NO!" Charles shouted. "Please…!"

The hands drew back enough to come up to his shoulders, to pull him back and slam his head forward into the wooden post and leave him insensate for several moments. In those moments he saw stars Charles couldn't move, couldn't see, but behind him he was sure he heard a belt unbuckling, a zipper.

"No," he gasped. His mind lashed out in panic but couldn't break through to the only other mind here, the only one close—the one he wanted to stop. He wasn't strong enough yet. The drugs held him back too firmly.

Charles was pulled up roughly, up on his knees, shoved against the post again, and his t-shirt rode up and he was sure he was getting splinters but that didn't matter now. Neither did his arms, crushed against his chest, aching but not the issue. The warm body behind him kept him pressed into the wood, and the hands were on him, pushing down at his boxers again.

"Stop, stop, please…" he sobbed. "Don't…"

But no one listened, even when he screamed.

Despite the fact that he hadn't slept the night before Erik knew he wouldn't sleep tonight either. Not with Charles out there. He was exhausted, but his mind refused to let his body shut down. He sat up trying to read, something he supposed he didn't do enough of.

The book wasn't working out for him though, and he'd just decided to put it away and at least try to rest when a spike of pain and a rush of emotion so strong it doubled him over hit him so hard it dropped him from the bed to the floor.

Fear and terror and horror and pain and—

ERIK!

One word got through, only one, shocking enough when he realized it could only have come from—

"Charles!"

How had he gotten through? Erik supposed the intensity of it answered that question. Something had panicked him enough that his powers had broken through the drugs' influence, even if just for a moment.

Oh god.

Erik forced himself up from the floor and snatched a flashlight from a drawer. Possibility of being discovered be damned; he couldn't help Charles if he couldn't see him well enough.

He bolted from his room, insanely glad that he'd left his shoes on, but he doubled over against the corridor wall when it hit him again.

ERIK…!

This time Charles's voice sounded much more like a hopeless sob than anything, and Erik bit back a sob of his own and kept going.

Charles, I'm coming! Can you hear me? I'm coming! Charles? Charles! CHARLES!

But there was no answer.

Chapter Text

Erik ran as silently as he could, but he didn't let the possibility of noise bother him as he sprinted through the corridors, crossing the facility from the second floor of the residential wing to the first floor of the main section, where the yard was. Where Charles was. He didn't bother with the elevator; he took the stairs two or three at a time, launched around another corner or two and nearly collided with the heavy double doors he was looking for.

Charles, I'm here! I'm coming!

But still there was nothing in his mind at all.

He did, however, hear a faint scream from outside. More than one scream.

Charles.

Erik ripped the doors open hands free, barely avoiding doing them damage, and shot through and let them slam shut behind him.

The noise didn't matter now. The residential wing was too far away. There was no one here to hear anything.

He was quickly reevaluating his opinion on the decision not to have any guards out here at night.

"Charles!"

He knew where the posts were, but like the other times he had been out here he couldn't see them yet. But the closer he got the more he could hear, and Charles's voice was clear now—sobbing punctuated by a litany of screams, and he could just make out some sort of movement.

Someone was there. Someone had to be there. Someone was hurting Charles, and there was no circumstance under which that was acceptable. They were going to pay for it.

"HEY!"

Charles's screaming died away after one last, shaking cry, but the sobbing didn't calm as there was rustling and then a dark shape darted silently away from the posts, circling around the edge of the wall and back toward the door. Erik was somewhere in the middle now, and he wasn't sure he had hope of catching whoever it was if he relied on his legs alone.

But they were NOT going to get out of here. He couldn't let them. Charles's screams echoed in his ears and he could still hear his friend crying, and the only thing that had made him angrier in his life was Shaw.

Erik shouted inarticulately, reaching out with his powers to pull the chains from one of the empty posts and fling them in the direction of the fleeing shape.

There was a dull thud, and the dark shape fell at the edge of the yard.

Erik stopped, only a few feet now from where he knew Charles should be. When the figure on the ground some distance away didn't move he stopped worrying about it and spun around, pulling the small flashlight from his pocket and turning it on.

"Charles, what happened? Are you—"

When the light fell across him Erik stopped talking, and stopped in his tracks.

It was so much worse than he had dared to think.

"No," he choked quietly. "Oh god no…"

Charles's t-shirt still clung to him, shredded in back from the whip marks, but what was left of the brown jumpsuit and his boxers was crushed between his thighs and calves as he shivered on his knees. With his wrists still in chains he couldn't pull up what was there and he was hunched over instead in a poor attempt to cover himself.

Blood. God, there was so much blood. Dried blood from the whip lashes, fresh blood from gashes on his arms and cheek and sides, and then…

For a long moment Erik couldn't breathe, and then he couldn't see for the tears blinding him, but that didn't matter so much to him because he didn't really want to be seeing this at all.

Sobbing once, Erik shoved the flashlight in his mouth and ripped his jacket off, dropping to his knees at Charles's side and settling it over his lap. He let the flashlight drop from his mouth and caught it, and he swallowed.

"Charles…?"

Charles was still sobbing, doubled over, and there was just as much physical pain in the sound as there was devastation. Erik wasn't even sure he knew anyone was there, or if he knew that his attacker wasn't.

Charles, it's me…

Either he still couldn't hear him that way, or he just wasn't listening. "Charles, it's me. It's Erik. Charles? Charles!" He wasn't listening. With no other choice Erik reached gently for his face, trying to turn it upwards. "Charles, look at me."

Charles pulled back violently from the touch, shouting wordlessly and sinking back into the post.

"Charles, open your eyes! It's me! I'm not going to hurt you!" His voice broke on the last sentence, and he had to try again. "I'm not going to hurt you." One hand, lightly, on Charles's shoulder, and the other reaching for his cheek again. "Charles, please, look at me."

He had backed away as far as the chains would let him, and when Erik's fingers brushed his face, just rubbing across it gently and not lingering, he sobbed and tentatively let his eyes open to slits.

"It's me, Charles. I'm here," Erik whispered.

Charles sobbed again, more quietly this time, and a small voice pushed weakly into his mind. Erik. ErikErikerikerikerik. It wasn't an answer, more like a soft litany he was to himself that slipped through, something he was telling himself to be convinced that this was real. That he was safe now.

"I'm here," Erik repeated, and slowly the sobbing calmed and quieted. Charles hadn't reacted to the hand on his shoulder yet, and he left it there. After a moment he motioned to the chains. "Look, I'm going to get you down, all right? I'm getting you off of here."

Charles nodded slowly, more understanding in his eyes now, and they were open more. But he avoided Erik's gaze.

Erik broke the latches on the cuffs with a wave and they fell away from Charles's wrists, and Erik was ready to reach around and catch his other shoulder to keep him from dipping forward and slamming his head into the hard wooden post. He gently guided him back instead, and Charles fought him at first.

"Hey hey hey, it's me, remember? It's Erik. It's Erik. It's all right…"

It took a long few moments, but finally enough of the tension in Charles's body released that Erik was able to guide his head back against his arm and down to his knee, to let him rest there. Charles let him leave one hand on his shoulder, but shied away from anything else.

There, curled on the ground with his head in Erik's lap and Erik's jacket over him, Charles finally spoke, still not looking at him as he shivered.

Erik's heart splintered when the first words out of his mouth were, "Don't tell Raven." He sobbed it, over and over, choking on it. "Don't…don't tell Raven. Don't tell her. Don't tell…Raven. Don't…please…"

Erik wanted to respond immediately, to soothe him, to say something, anything, to make it better. But at first he couldn't say anything because his throat clogged, and he cursed it, and when he could speak he didn't know what to say. "Okay," he said, for lack of anything else. "Okay, okay…"

He knew he would have to tell Raven something, but he didn't know if he could tell her the truth. Not about this.

Charles still cried softly, but once he had an answer he didn't say anything else.

And what was he supposed to do now? Charles was shaken, traumatized, and Erik didn't know how to deal with that. He didn't know how to help him. Erik had been that way before himself, in the camps…but no one had treated him kindly and it was so long ago now he didn't know what might have helped if anyone had. He did know Charles needed medical attention, and now, but the small infirmary that the facility did keep for emergencies and more serious things was not open at night. That really defeated the purpose, but then again he suspected that it was really only for appearances.

No one here, and certainly not Stryker, really cared about the well being of the mutants in the first place.

So what could he do? He couldn't leave Charles here. Charles needed help, and Erik was the only one who could give it.

Erik gently squeezed the shoulder under his hand to get his friend's attention, and Charles flinched. "Easy, easy, I'm sorry…" He swallowed as the crying stopped again. "Are you listening?" he asked then, in as comforting a voice as he could manage. After a moment a very small nod against his leg. "Good. Listen, Charles, I have to get you inside. You need help. There's nowhere else to go, so I'm going to bring you to my room. I have supplies there, and I have a bathroom where we can get you cleaned up. Is that all right?"

He wasn't going to do anything without Charles's permission. Not right now. He didn't know much, but he was relatively certain that it would be a horrible idea at this point to simply scoop him up without warning him.

He waited for an answer, trying to be patient, and finally Charles's hand crept up to hold onto Erik's on his shoulder, and he nodded again.

"I'm going to have to carry you. You know that, right?"

Another wordless nod, and Erik slowly began to shift around to Charles's side to get an arm under his knees without letting his head fall. As he did it he did what he could to pull the tattered remains of Charles's clothing up under the jacket, so they would cover his backside when Erik picked him up. The jacket would stay where it was over him. When Charles realized what he was doing he tried to help, hissing when stretching his arms pulled at the gashes on them.

"I've got it," Erik murmured, and Charles stopped, moaning quietly.

When he gathered Charles in his arms the telepath was louder, groaning brokenly, and by the time Erik stood he was crying again, in soft spurts, and he was shaking. He'd never stopped shaking.

"Charles?" Erik asked worriedly.

Charles still had not said anything after his one desperate plea, and now was no exception. He answered, but silently.

Everything hurts…

The voice was weak and faint, but it was there, in his mind. It was good to know that he could do at least that now.

Erik had to blink back tears again. I know, I know, I'm sorry…

He didn't remember the dark form on the ground until now, and now there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. But it didn't matter. As much as quite a bit of him wanted to be making whomever it was pay dearly for this, taking care of Charles was more important right now.

He could always come back later. They would probably be unconscious for a while.

Erik had to stop just short of the doors. Charles was still crying, and here it wouldn't matter but once they neared the residential wing it might be problem. "Charles," he whispered, near his friend's hair. "Please, you need to be quiet…if someone stops us I can't help you…"

It took obvious effort, but Charles stopped crying again, and pressed his face into Erik's chest. He managed to tone down his shivering, too, but he couldn't stop it.

It's okay, Erik told him, willing the doors open and carrying him out into the corridors. He walked slowly, but he could feel Charles's fingers twisting into his shirt at times, and he moaned when they went up the stairs. Erik didn't say anything because he couldn't, even inwardly, and an uncomfortable fluttering in his stomach told him that if he didn't keep himself strictly in check he would be shaking soon, too. He felt sick.

He willed his own door open too, when they made it there, and closed and locked it behind them. "We're here," he murmured, and he carried Charles into the small bathroom and carefully set him down on the bath rug to let him lean against the side of the tub. Charles groaned again, a horribly pitiful sound, and Erik's chest constricted as he stood to find towels and medical supplies. He wasn't sure how much he had in here, and he hoped he wouldn't have to go out looking for more.

He came back to Charles with the towels first, settling a thick one over his lap and legs before pulling the jacket that was smaller anyway out from under it. He tossed the jacket up onto the counter by the sink, and Charles was trying to toe his shoes off and he wasn't catching the edges because he was still shivering. Erik gently pulled them off for him, and then he was weakly kicking the remains of his clothing out from under the towel too, scowling deeply at them and lashing out at them more violently than was necessary, and Erik understood after a moment of watching this that Charles wanted the torn, bloody reminders away from him.

"All right, all right," he said quickly. He pulled them the rest of the way off, and helped Charles off with the tattered t-shirt, too, and then threw another thick towel around his shoulders. Charles clutched it around him, just managing it with his shaking fingers, while Erik threw the ruined clothing into the bathroom's trash can and firmly closed the lid. "There." He glanced back at Charles, who nodded weakly in thanks and looked away again. He had yet to let Erik catch his eyes.

Erik let out a breath and went back to him, to sit across from him against the bathroom wall by the door. The bathroom was tiny, and there wasn't much space there, between them—just enough for Charles not to feel crowded, which was probably a good thing just now.

"Should I fill that up?" Erik asked quietly, nodding to the tub. Charles didn't really see it, but knew what he meant, and nodded. Erik didn't have to move to comply; the knobs were metal, and he turned them from where he sat.

But then he remembered that he needed to get up anyway. "I'll find you something to wear," he said, and Charles only nodded again when he retreated back into the main room to the suitcase that sat on the small chest at the foot of the bed. He wasn't sure what to do, seeing as anything he had was going to hang off of Charles awfully, but he managed to find a pair of drawstring pajama pants that would do a bit better than anything else he had, and a t-shirt that was a bit small on him, and luckily he had a pair or two of new boxers in the bottom of the suitcase he'd thrown in for precaution.

All of it was still going to be too big, but it was the best he could do.

He also realized, suddenly, that Stryker was going to have a heart attack in the morning when Charles was gone, but there was no part of him that cared.

When he trailed back into the bathroom with the folded stack of clothes in hand Charles was right where Erik had left him, curled against the side of the tub. But he'd let the towel around his shoulders fall open enough to expose much of his chest and stomach, and he was scowling again as he examined the scrapes and splinters that covered the red skin.

Erik hadn't even noticed that before, over everything else.

He meant to set the clothes on the closed toilet seat, but he dropped onto it himself instead. Charles, he cried inwardly. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…I should have gotten there sooner. I should have stopped it. I—

Charles still didn't look at him, but he sobbed once and pulled the towel shut around him again and tried to curl up even smaller. Not your fault…

But…

It was already far too late when I made it through to you.

Erik's jaw clenched. He remembered the hopelessness in the screams in his mind, and wanted to scream himself.

He stood up, and set the clothes where he'd been. "The clothes are here. They're…all I could find. They're still big. I uhm…" He went to a cabinet and pulled out a washcloth or two, set them on the edge of the tub and motioned to the row of bottles and things on the ledge by the wall. The tub was full now, and he shut off the water, too. "Everything's here…we can do what we can about the wounds once you're done. We'll need to dress them…"

Charles nodded, and Erik sighed helplessly. "I ah…I guess you want me to leave."

Another tentative nod. I'm sorry. Please…

Oh god, Charles, don't say you're sorry, Erik thought back. You have nothing to be sorry for. God, you should never have to say that word again.

Charles's eyes closed, and fresh tears slipped from the corners. Erik started to open his mouth, but Charles stopped him.

No, I…please go. Thank you. Please go…

Erik nodded wordlessly and closed the bathroom door, backing into his room and staring at it. He still wanted to scream. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but any screaming at all would alert his neighbors and he couldn't do it. Instead his fists clenched as the anger solidified in his chest, and he knew he was seething, and his powers reached out for the nearest metal and he didn't bother to stop it.

He opened his mouth in a silent scream and the table in the corner died behind him, twisting into an unrecognizable hulk. He tried to drop into one of the chairs that remained and the flashlight in his pocket fell out, somehow having remained until now. Erik picked it up and pitched it across the room as hard as he could, and it shattered against the wall, and he was relatively sure there was a dent where it had struck.

Why? Why did the worst things happen to the best people, leaving those who cared about them to pick up the pieces? His father had been good, but he'd died in an accident when Erik was young. He'd suffered. Erik didn't remember the details and he'd been too young to understand but he knew that much, now. He'd pieced that much together. His mother had been good and Shaw killed her. Charles was good, and now this.

Everything else he'd been through here was horrible enough, but this was different. This was an entirely different monster. Charles didn't deserve this, and certainly not now, after everything he'd endured to protect everyone else.

This was not something Charles was going to just bounce back from.

Erik dropped into the chair again, and his chest was heaving. He didn't bother to blink the tears back any longer. Soon they streaked his face, and he was sobbing, fingers white-knuckled on the edge of the chair to keep himself from tipping off of it, his long legs crumpled under it.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, but he knew it took quite some time to calm himself, and he knew he didn't move until Charles called to him in his mind. It was only his name, but Erik knew it meant he was needed.

Charles was sitting on the closed toilet seat, dry except for his hair and everything on but the shirt, which was clutched in his hands. There was a towel around his shoulders again. Erik could still see the wounds on his chest and stomach and arms, but they didn't look as awful now that they were mostly clean. Maybe the gashes on his arms weren't as deep as they'd seemed. Erik was feeling a bit encouraged until he saw the bath water.

It was pink.

His stomach turned, and there was a sudden flash of remorse in his mind.

Meant to drain it…

"Shh," Erik said, shaking his head. With a flick of his wrist he pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub by its chain and water level began to drop. With that done he went to the cabinets, pulling out what first aid materials he had here. His hope was that there was just enough to stretch that wouldn't have to leave Charles alone to find more. He turned to ask whether Charles wanted to do this in here or move out into the room where he could lie down, but when he saw his friend swaying on the edge of his seat, eyes fluttering closed, the answer was clear.

He brought the large first aid kit out into the room to set it on the bedside table and drag a chair to the side of the bed, and he came back. "Come on," he said gently. He touched an arm and Charles tensed, and Erik let his hand fall away again. "We can do this in there, where you can lie down. You're going to drop…" He tried to think soothing thoughts, tried to find the place in his mind where Charles came in and follow it back to his friend's mind, but he wasn't sure how well he succeeded. He only knew that Charles finally relaxed again, and let Erik grip his arm to help him up.

His legs gave out under him almost immediately. Erik caught him and carefully scooped him once more, Charles groaning and gripping the fabric of his shirt this time too. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it hurts. If I could take it away I would. You know I would…"

His voice broke, not for the first time tonight, and Erik fell silent as he carried Charles out to the bed and set him down on top of the covers. He tried to curl up again and Erik had to gently coax him not to. "In a few minutes. I need to see to this first."

Charles reluctantly stretched out on his stomach, and once the cut on his cheek was cleaned and gauze taped over it—his eyes tightly shut while Erik did that—he buried his face in a pillow. He was still while Erik cleaned the cuts on his arms and sides and the day older whip lashes on his back with disinfectant, though he wasn't quiet. Erik knew it must hurt—there still wasn't a way around that—but his pillow was more sufficient than the thin ones in the cells, and Charles took advantage of it.

But the sounds he made still hurt, even muffled into the fake feathers. Erik felt much better when the bandages were in place.

Still, though, they weren't done.

"We should really get the worst of the splinters out, at least," he said reluctantly. "You don't need them to get infected."

Charles was still halfway up, supported by his arms because they'd had to get the bandages around him. He didn't answer, even silently, but after a long moment he carefully turned over on his tender back and let out a breath, signaling that he was ready. Erik had already fished the pair of tweezers from the kit, and he wished now that the light from the bedside lamp were brighter. But it would have to do. He needed to be closer though, but when he moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside Charles the telepath jerked suddenly, starting to sit up, a panicked look on his face and a small desperate sound escaping his throat.

Erik stopped in mid-movement, crouched above the bed, and his eyes swam and his throat and chest ached again as he held up both hands to show that he meant no harm.

He knew Charles knew that, though to be completely honest he was surprised that his friend had let him as near as he had, let him help him as much as he had. Then again maybe the telepathy explained that. His powers were weak now, nearly nonexistent, but it was enough that Charles could feel him. Could know for sure that it was him and that Erik wasn't going to hurt him.

But Erik understood flashbacks, understood association, had been there when he was young and new to being hurt and remembered being afraid of everyone and everything after sessions with Shaw. The difference was that Charles was not a child, and Charles was not him, and that was why he still didn't know for sure just what exactly the hell he was doing. He wanted to help, wanted to do this right…help him and not scare him, not make it worse…

He tried not to let it hurt personally when Charles shied away from him. He knew it was still going to happen no matter how much being telepathic helped, but it did hurt.

It made him want to kill whoever had done this.

"Hey, easy, easy, it's okay," he was saying, as he thought all of this and eased down onto the edge of the bed.

The way Charles reacted made Erik think that he'd heard the thoughts more than the words. He did relax, but when he let his head drop back onto the pillow he was crying once more.

Erik, I'm sorry…

But Charles still would not look him in the eyes, and still hadn't said anything else aloud. It was beginning to worry him.

Don't. I told you, you don't have to say that. Not about any of this. It isn't your fault.

Charles fell quiet, the crying only silent tears, and Erik bit back a sob of his own and tried to focus enough on the removal of the splinters that he wouldn't hurt him too much. He got the worst of them and stopped, not wanting to drag it out for too long. Charles didn't need that right now. He needed rest.

"Okay," Erik said quietly.

As soon as he said it Charles curled on his side, and the crying was more pronounced and the shivering started up again.

"Charles," Erik choked.

He didn't know what to do.

He put the first aid kit away and moved back to the chair by the bed. He reached helplessly for one of Charles's hands, but Charles shoved them both under his arms.

"Charles, please…" Please, he begged silently. What can I do?

Nothing…

Charles…

Just…just stay there. Please. Stay right there. Don't leave…

Part of him still wanted to go back to the yard, once Charles was asleep. Wanted to find his friend's attacker and rip him limb from limb.

Please don't leave…

The thought was gone now. He was staying here.

"I won't," Erik promised. "I won't go anywhere." A bit more time, and Charles was calm again. He let Erik help him getting the t-shirt on over the bandages, let Erik pull the covers out from under him and drape them over him. Even then he still shivered, but finally there were no more tears. For now. He dried his face clumsily, swiping an arm over it a few times, and curled up under the blankets.

Erik moved back to the chair and twitched a finger toward the lamp. It clicked off, leaving the room dark and more conducive to sleeping.

But as soon as it was done he felt a wave of panic so strong he gasped, and it wasn't his own. In front of him on the bed there was sudden movement.

No no Erik please, the light! I can't—

He quickly turned it back on and Charles was up on his elbows again, eyes wide and panic written across his face once more. As soon as there was light he crumpled back to the bed, balling up again and looking away in shame.

"It's all right, Charles…" Erik swallowed.

Charles didn't answer him. His eyes closed and he was finally still; finally he fell into a fitful sleep.

Erik sat back in the chair, wishing there were something else he could do. He didn't know what Charles would be like when he woke, and he didn't know what he was going to do about this in the morning at all. He certainly didn't plan to bring Charles back to that yard, which meant Stryker was going to have a fit and Erik's cover was well and truly blown. Maybe not about being a mutant, but there wasn't going to be any way to hide the fact that he really did care about these people. About Charles. He wasn't going to be able to explain this away, and certainly not if the man in the yard was still unconscious on the concrete in the morning.

They were going to know he wasn't on Stryker's side. He wasn't on Shaw's side. His status here was going to change. Something was going to happen, and he didn't really want to think about it right now. It didn't matter. It was worth it.

With Charles's breathing finally evening out nearby, Erik closed his eyes.

Erik woke to a sharp pounding, and after a moment of groggy confusion in which he almost fell out of his chair he realized it was the door. He glanced at the clock by the bed and stumbled to his feet, wondering who was knocking at 7 am and why the hell he was sleeping in a chair.

"Lehnsherr, open the damn door! We know you have the telepath in there!" a voice bellowed. Stryker.

Erik froze mid-step and looked quickly to the bed. Charles. He was there, burrowed under the covers, though he was starting to stir now. Erik suddenly wished he had at least a few of his friend's abilities—enough to send him peacefully back to sleep. Erik's chest was heaving as everything from last night flooded back.

God, Charles…

"Lehnsherr! I will not tell you again! We can open this door ourselves!"

His hands curled into fists, and his jaw clenched. "You're not coming in here!" In a moment he'd moved the metal shelf by the wall and the ruined hulk of the table from the corner in front of the door.

"You can't stay in there forever! What the hell happened? There's a body in the yard, Lehnsherr! I want answers!"

Erik blinked, the breath going out of him. The man was dead? Every fiber of his being had wanted to kill him, but…

Erik…?

He glanced back and Charles was awake, up on his elbows, giving him a look that was pain and fear and concern all at once. He didn't hold Erik's gaze for long, but at least he did. That was improvement over last night, even if he was still leaning on telepathy for communication.

Erik, did you…?

"I didn't mean to," he answered helplessly. "I didn't want him to get away. I didn't think—"

He'd thrown the chains too hard. If they'd caught the man in the head of course he would be dead.

More pounding on the door. "LEHNSHERR!"

Charles flinched, backing into the headboard and curling up against it.

There were other sounds now, and he knew they had to be doing something to the lock. Picking it or cutting it out or whatever their standard procedures happened to be here. Panic rose in his chest, and he looked back and forth between the door and his friend. He couldn't let them get to Charles.

"I-I…the door. I could probably weld it in place."

Charles's head was buried in his arms atop knees that were pulled up to his chest, and he was breathing raggedly himself, trying to tame his own panic. He didn't look up when he answered. We may have water but he have no food, Erik. Theoretically we could last a few short weeks, but what good would that do us? And it would expose your powers.

"The hell with that—!"

Then Charles did look up, and caught his eyes again, and he didn't say anything but the pained expression was clear.

They didn't have a choice. This was bigger than them.

Erik swore. He didn't move the shelf and table away from the door, but he did pull the table back into a relatively normal shape—enough that it wouldn't be noticed. He backed up by the bed protectively but he didn't sit, and behind him Charles was shivering again.

"I won't let them hurt you…"

Charles only sobbed dryly.

It wasn't long before they had the door open, and the men Stryker had brought with him were pushing the table and the heavy shelf out of the way. As soon as there was a space big enough several of them darted inside. Half of them snatched Erik's arms and dragged him from the room—remembering not to use his powers to struggle was ridiculously awful—and when Charles shouted he stretched his head back in panic to see. The rest of them were pulling him from the bed, trying to keep him on his feet, but it wasn't working. He wasn't strong enough yet.

"Leave him alone!" Erik shouted.

But they dragged him out anyway, letting his legs drag behind him, and when it was clear he wasn't going to struggle they dropped him unceremoniously against the wall in the corridor. Charles cried out, but instead of curling in on himself again as Erik expected based on his behavior till now he fought to keep himself straight against the wall. He was breathing through the pain from being moved so suddenly and glaring up at Stryker, and Stryker glared right back.

"I'll deal with you later," the man snarled.

Erik swallowed. "None of this is his f—"

But Stryker turned on him, cutting him off before he could finish. "You! What the hell were you thinking bringing him here!"

"Someone attacked him! He was hurt! I was not going to just leave him out there!"

"It's not your job to care, Lehnsherr."

"Do I look like I give a damn whether you think I'm supposed to care? I don't work for you."

"I'm beginning to suspect you don't really work for Sebastian Shaw, either."

Erik glared venomously. "The man's a bastard. Why the hell would I work for him?"

Stryker snorted. "That's what I thought." He nodded in the general direction of the center of the compound. "And the body?"

"I didn't mean for that to happen. I was trying to stop him. It was dark; I didn't know I'd done that much damage." Not that he was very sorry.

"You bashed his skull in!"

"He deserved it!" Erik was seething again, suddenly, and he didn't really know how to help it. And Stryker was looking back and forth between him and Charles, an unreadable look on his face at first. Confusion, if anything. Not understanding Erik's vehemence.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…and then the corners of his mouth turned up in small smirk and he looked at Charles.

Charles bit back a cry and looked away quickly, his glare gone and the sudden shift in body language screaming shame, and Erik knew Stryker had figured it out.

And then Stryker laughed.

Erik flew at him, yanking violently away from the men holding his arms and ramming Stryker into the wall with an inarticulate shout. His hands were already around the man's throat, and he started to squeeze.

"Don't you dare, damnit! I will kill you! I. Will. Kill. You!"

The strangled sounds Stryker was making were rather satisfying, and he wanted nothing more than to snap the man's neck right now. He would have.

Erik!

He didn't. Stryker's men grabbed for him, pulling him off, and he let them, but he didn't make it easy for them. He struggled, managed to hit several of them. Cracked a jaw or two, maybe someone's rib, and left more than one bloody and broken nose. But then they had him again and Stryker was straightening, rubbing at his neck and glaring.

"Bring both of them," he said shortly.

Charles was watching Erik, wide-eyed, and when Erik saw it he was the one to look away, this time.

The few men that it didn't take to keep Erik in check pulled Charles up from the floor, and both of them were dragged back through the corridors. Stryker said nothing, but it didn't take long to realize they were headed for the cell blocks. It was early, the usual staff and personnel were just arriving or waking, and the only sounds in the corridors they tracked through were heavy footsteps and the noises Charles made in pain.

What have I gotten us into? Erik wondered in despair.

He hadn't thought it to receive an answer, but he got one. You did what you had to, Erik, and I thank you for that. It came through strained, but sincere.

I almost killed Stryker.

But you didn't.

I wanted to. I wanted to kill the man who attacked you, and he IS dead.

It wasn't purposeful.

But I WANTED him dead, Erik insisted miserably. It might as well have been. What sort of person am I? Thanks to Emma he had forgotten for so many years what his past really held. He had never escaped Shaw, never remembered all of the anger, never tried to act on it. He'd retained his anger at the Germans, but again, trapped in servitude to Shaw he'd had no chance to act on it.

The only men he had ever killed were the two men who'd held his mother while Shaw put a bullet in her chest. He'd crushed their metal helmets into their skulls. But he hadn't necessarily meant to that, either, and he'd been too young to really understand, then, what he had done.

When his memories returned and he had his anger at Shaw he'd wanted to kill the man. He still did. He still wanted Stryker dead, but…

But killing didn't feel as good as he'd thought it would, since regaining his memories and thinking about it so often. Erik had a feeling he wouldn't quite be thinking this way if he had regained his memories another way, that Shaw would be dead by now, if he had never met Charles, but there it was.

So who was he?

You are my friend, Charles told him firmly. He hadn't known Charles was listening in on any of that. He should have been angry—annoyed, at the least—but he wasn't.

They reached the cell blocks, reached Charles and Raven's cell, and at Stryker's motion the door was opened and Charles was all but tossed in. Erik surged forward, shouting in protest, but it only helped them shove him inside, too. He stumbled in and twisted to look back, and Stryker was in the doorway scowling at him.

"Fine. Since you seem to care about these mutants so much you can just stay the hell here," he growled.

Erik started for him again, but the door shut in his face. He pounded on it once or twice, but there was no point. He could have opened it easily, but they weren't ready for that. Charles was hurt, and his powers hadn't recovered. They couldn't leave now.

When he turned around Charles was in a heap on the floor, face twisted in pain and still trying gather himself after behind thrown down. Raven was at his side trying to help, expression making it clear that she was not understanding anything that was happening. She looked up at him helplessly, but Erik didn't know what to say. He crouched at Charles's other side to help, instead.

After several long moments Charles was more steady, his groans had quieted, and his arms braced against the floor had stopped trembling. Now Raven looked over him at Erik again, and Charles glanced at him too. The only word for the looks on their faces was bewildered. It was how Erik felt.

This time he sighed. "I guess I'm your new roommate."

Chapter Text

"I guess I'm your new roommate."

The words hung in the air, making it that much more obvious how much everything had changed so quickly. Erik was their hero, their link to the outside who could do something, the way Moira couldn't. Now he was just as trapped as they were.

Charles's powers, slowly fighting out from beneath the influence of the drugs, still sensed guilt and remorse from Erik despite the silent words they'd exchanged in the corridors mere moments ago. With them were determination and anger and a part of him that was not sorry at all for what he'd done. Raven, for her part, was confused and worried and just a little shell-shocked at the sudden shift in the status-quo.

Charles didn't know what he was.

He was here. He knew that much. He was alive.

They were looking at him now, Raven and her confusion and Erik and his understanding concern, and he hadn't felt strong enough to muster the energy to speak aloud since…or maybe he just hadn't wanted to. But if he didn't now Raven would know that something was wrong.

More wrong than that he'd been hurt again. More wrong than cuts and bruises and splinters and exhaustion.

So he forced one corner of his mouth up, felt Erik's skepticism at that. "This was certainly not part of the plan," he said quietly. They didn't seem to have anything to say in response. What was there to say, really? It wasn't part of the plan and now they were here. That was the end of it.

He'd tried to fake amusement and all it did was make the roughness of his voice worse. His throat hurt…still hurt. It was one reason, really, he supposed, why he didn't feel much like talking.

It only reminded him of why. Why he'd screamed so much last night.

But though the forced ghost of a smile fell flat Erik's concern became intense relief when he spoke, and Raven relaxed a bit as well, and the effort was worth it.

Effort. Why was it so much effort? He had always been able to do this before—for Raven, at least, for Erik—shove anything away long enough, at least, to pretend he was all right even if he wasn't. Sometimes they believed it and often they didn't because they knew him too well, but it made things easier. It made life here a little more bearable.

But though Charles still wanted to do it, for them, it seemed so much harder now. It felt almost as if there were a stone in his chest, weighing his heart down. A stone of pain and guilt and fear and shame, and it had only been hours, really, since…but it was already there, hard inside of him—

But he shied quickly from that wording, too—no preparation, not really, not much, nothing that would have helped him, anyway, and nothing that wasn't that godawful machine had ever hurt so much and he screamed and it hurt EVERY TIME but it didn't stop and the rough wood's splinters dug into his stomach and he tried to focus on that because at least that hurt less but it didn't work and oh god that was blood on his legs now, wasn't it?—and Charles grimaced outwardly and they looked at him strangely but he could do nothing about it.

He flinched, too, but he was sore everywhere and it hurt and he bit back the urge to moan. All that came out was a small grunt, and he scowled and pushed against the floor. He didn't want to be on the cold, hard ground anymore. He'd had quite enough of that.

He tried to get up on his own and he made it farther up this time, but his legs gave out under him yet again. At this point Charles didn't know if he were really that sore or that weak or if it were psychological, but whatever it was he couldn't stand.

Erik caught him, and he meant well, Charles could sense that, but Erik caught him around his chest and—rough hands, fingers digging into his sides, his chest, holding him against the wood post, arms around him too tight, not letting go no matter how he shouted—and he panicked. He gasped and his heart leapt into his throat and he grabbed at Erik's arms and hands and he knew his fingernails were digging into skin but he couldn't stop. He felt Erik's sudden realization of what was happing along with the knowledge that Charles was going to need help getting to the bed either way, and Erik quickly dragged him the two or three steps to the bunks without rearranging his grip and without waiting for help from Raven and dropped him onto it as gently as he could while still doing it in haste.

Charles released a heavy breath, made himself release the vice-grip on Erik's hands and steadied himself on the edge of the bunk, gripping the metal lip under him instead.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry…Erik was repeating, easing down onto the bunk beside him but still a good foot or two away. Part of him didn't want his friend so far away but the rest of him was grateful for the space.

Not your fault…thank you.

"Charles?" Raven was asking. She sounded worried again, more worried even than before, and she left no space when she hurried to his other side and pressed a hand to his face to turn it her, and it was not helping him get his breathing under control. "Are you all right? What—?"

"R-Raven, I'm—" I'm not all right. I'm not fine. I'm not all right at all. He let no one hear those thoughts, but they were there.

"What happened?" Raven was demanding. She let her hand fall from his face but she was still so close and he had to tell himself it was Raven, it was his sister, it was all right, but he still had to find her hand on the bed in the nonexistent space between them and squeeze it to keep himself steady. Her gaze was shifting across him to Erik. "What happened? How did he get hurt? Why the hell did Stryker throw you in here?" Her gaze shifted back to Charles when she felt the hand in hers, and she squeezed back and it helped. "Charles?"

He didn't try to answer again. He knew it wouldn't come out. But he tried the small smile again, just in reassurance, and it worked a bit better this time.

Her demanding expression softened, was less fierce when she looked back to Erik again. "Erik…?"

Erik wouldn't quite look at her. "He uhm…someone attacked him, in the yard. He was hurt, and I wasn't going to leave him out there. Stryker wasn't happy, obviously." Charles knew Erik hated to lie in any form, at least to Raven, but he was grateful for it. Raven did not need to know anything more than that.

"There wasn't quite a way to hide his sympathies this time," Charles filled in.

Raven's jaw clenched, and he felt her anger at Stryker, at whoever had hurt him, but she quickly schooled it and nodded to Erik while she squeezed Charles's hand all the tighter. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"I only did what I had to—"

"You didn't have to do anything," Charles interrupted softly. "You gave up your freedom to help me. Raven is right; you deserve our thanks."

Erik swallowed and looked away, not used to such attention. "We're in this together, Charles. All of us. I'm one of you. And I know you've been convinced that it would be easier to pull this off with me still on the outside, but I wasn't going to do nothing. I only did what was right." He snorted miserably. "God knows I haven't done it often enough in the past."

And Erik had no image of the man in the yard, but he was thinking of it anyway, and the fact that the man was dead and he'd done it without a second thought even though it hadn't really been the intention of the action that had done it.

Erik…I've told you. That was not your fault.

I know…but…don't you think less of me? Even a little? You should. You're…you're better than me.

And that thought hit him like a needle, digging into the memory of last night and nearly making Charles choke aloud. Pain and horror and should-have-been-able-to-stop-it and—

No I'm not, was all he thought so that Erik could hear it. And he didn't mean for any of the feelings to slip through but they did and his friend looked at him sharply.

Don't. Don't do that. Do go there. I don't…I don't know anything about…this, but…I know you may blame yourself somehow but you shouldn't. That's bullshit, Charles. Everything is on the bastard who did this. Me too, maybe, for not having the sense to stay with you last night.

Not your fault, Charles told him again, staring at the floor now. I told you why you couldn't stay; it was perfectly valid…

Fine…but it's not your fault either.

Raven was studying them curiously. "Erik? Charles?"

They looked at her, and Charles swallowed back the lump that had begun in his throat and cleared it. "Nothing, uhm…it's nothing."

She nodded, and then Raven's hands were on him again, looking for the injuries, just as she did every time and it had never bothered him before. She was his sister; she wanted to help. She wanted to be sure he was all right. But this time he felt himself tense in response to the touch, and he had to consciously force himself to relax.

It didn't work as well as he'd wanted it to, but it did work enough that Raven didn't notice through her focus on her motherly concern.

"How bad is it?" she asked. She started to push his shirt up in back, probably remembering the relatively fresh whip marks that would be there, but the hands on his skin there even through the bandages, where they were, was too much.

Charles flinched and pushed back with his legs until he was against the wall. "I-I'm all right. Erik cleaned the wounds. They're fine for now." And he'd let Erik touch him to do it then, but he'd been too exhausted to care so much then. Hurting too much.

He knew he would have to let one of them change the dressings at some point, but hopefully in anther day or so it would be at least a small bit easier.

And it was Raven and Erik. His sister. His closest friend. His sister and his friend, his sister and his best friend. He was fine here, he was fine…

More confusion from Raven, and she was looking at him skeptically now. "Charles…?" Wondering if there was something she should know.

"I'll be all right," Charles said quickly. "It isn't awful. Just bruises…well…cuts and bruises, but…but I'll be all right. I'll heal." He drudged up that small smile once more. "I always do, don't I?" But a small voice in the back of his mind said what about this time? You know this isn't the same, and the smile faltered, but he forced it up again, made it bigger, more reassuring than before, he hoped.

He exchanged a glance with Erik, saw the pained expression there that his friend was trying to hide, felt the same misgivings and fears in Erik's mind that were in his that Erik was pushing back even more fiercely than he was.

You WILL be all right, Erik promised him silently. I don't care how long it takes. I'll be here.

Charles swallowed, blinked back the dampness that worked its way into his eyes.

And Raven swallowed too, but she didn't press any farther. She didn't try to examine him any longer, but she did move to sit against the wall too, beside him, pressing into him from the side the way she always did, and it was warm, but the good kind of warmth, and this, Charles supposed, he could handle.

More than handle it, soon he was able to relax enough to let his head fall to rest on his sister's shoulder, and she found his hand again and held it and Erik was there too, just there, and for just a moment it made everything all right.

These two, he knew at least, would always be here, no matter anything.

This was his family.

Even if somehow, god forbid, Raven discovered the truth…it wouldn't change anything. He knew that for certain. That wasn't why he didn't want her to know. It was only to protect her.

But…he thought in despair, and choked back a sob...but…but…

How would Moira ever want him now?

When their door didn't open at the bell for morning meal for their group, Raven was a little concerned. When it didn't open to let them out for their time in the yard, either, she started to worry.

"What are they doing? Why won't they let us out?"

Charles was curled in the upper corner of his bunk, against the wall. He'd drifted in and out of sleep all day, which was understandable enough. He looked awful.

"I don't know…the guards in the immediate vicinity haven't any idea, and I'm not quite recovered enough to reach anyone I'm not very familiar with farther than…well, I'm not certain how far. But I can't reach Stryker. I don't know what his plan is."

Erik paced at the end of the beds. "He'll contact Shaw. You know that. We went over that. And if he brings Emma…"

Charles grimaced. "I know…and I'm sorry, my friend, but I'm afraid I won't be able to do much for another couple of days, at the least. Then I suppose you're right; we'll need to begin fashioning some sort of barrier to keep Frost from discovering the truth about your memories." From the face he was making, Raven could tell that he wasn't completely confident that it would work.

She could tell that he was worried.

And god, he really did look horrible. She wished he would talk to her, but he wouldn't. He wasn't talking much at all. The day had been spent watching him sleep, or watching him sit silently where he was now, worrying about him. Or that was how she'd spent her day. Of course she didn't know, specifically, what was going on in Erik's head, but she suspected it wasn't much different.

It was nearly time for the second meal of the day, and when the bell sounded they waited, wondering if anything were going to happen.

Then the door unlocked remotely, like it always did, and Raven let out a breath. "Thank god. I'm starving. I guess they just wanted to give us time to cool off…"

Erik grunted quietly in something like agreement or a shrug, and helped Charles up.

"I can stay here; I'm not hungry…" he protested.

"You haven't eaten in days. You're coming, and you're going to eat."

Raven did her best to smile, and caught her brother's eyes. "I've told you I like him, right?"

Another day Charles would have laughed, but today she was more than happy for the ghost of a smile that she got for it.

Now, at least, several hours later, Charles was able to get his feet under him even if he still needed help, and Erik didn't need Raven's help to keep him up. They went for the door, to join the stream of other mutants headed into the heavily guarded route to the prisoner cafeteria, but they were stopped there, at their door, by several men with weapons that were not usually there.

Raven glared. "What? You opened the door this time, so what the hell is your problem?"

One of them motioned to Erik. "Not him. He stays here."

"He has to eat, too," she retorted.

"Those are our orders," the guard growled, and he motioned to Charles and Raven now. "You two get moving."

"This is ridiculous—"

Charles was glancing up at his friend. "Erik…?"

Erik was frowning, but he handed Charles off to Raven. "It's all right. Go on."

"But…"

Raven settled her brother's arm over her shoulders and made sure she had what weight he couldn't put on the ground himself. They still think he's human, Charles. I don't think they can starve him. Laws and all that.

I still wouldn't put it past them…

She let out a breath. Yeah, well…we'll bring something back with us if we can, all right? If he can do it for us we can find a way to do it for him.

"Hey," the guard was saying. "Let's go or you can all stay here."

Raven tugged Charles forward. Come on. You're about to collapse; you need food. As if in response his stomach complained loudly, and Charles grimaced at the betrayal. They both looked at Erik once more, but he nodded and Raven helped her brother out into the corridor and the door was closed behind them.

When they made it to the cafeteria Hank was pacing by their usual table worriedly, while Sean and Darwin watched on helplessly.

Raven and Charles made their way to the table first, so that Charles could sit down, and Hank's eyes went wide when he saw them and as soon as she had Charles settled on the bench he crushed her to him.

"Thank god; we didn't know where you were…"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry…"

Charles gave her permission, silently, to tell them what had happened—what little she knew of it—to explain their absence this morning and in the yard, so the others wouldn't worry so much.

Though they still worried, of course. They reacted immediately to the word "attacked" and it didn't help that Charles still looked like hell—the covered cut on his cheek and the visible scrapes and bruises on his face, the bandages around his arms peeking out from under his short sleeves, and the circles under his eyes much darker than usual.

"I'll be all right…" he told them quietly. It didn't help much, but it kept them mildly at bay.

It was the only thing Charles said the entire time they were out of the cell. It seemed as if he didn't want to be here, as if being around so many people made him uncomfortable. It had never bothered him before—Charles loved people, especially other mutants, as fascinating as he found other mutations—but today the usual bumps and jostling of the cafeteria seemed to set him on edge.

They didn't even have to touch him. If anyone he didn't know well so much as walked past the table too closely, he flinched. Raven was lucky to get him to eat anything at all, and when he did he did it mechanically, out of obedience and knowing his body needed it and nothing more. He did not want to eat.

She spent dinner leaning into Hank's side quite a bit more than usual, and by the end of it Raven felt physically sick, not wanting to know just what would make Charles act the way he was acting. All of it.

God, she only thought she'd been worried about him in the past…

When they made it back to the cell and Raven helped him back to his bunk he curled up on it almost immediately, after thanking her for the help in getting back and forth to the cafeteria.

"Yeah…" she answered uncertainly.

And then he was asleep, and Erik was beside her looking down at him.

"Did he eat?"

"Yeah…enough, I guess. For now." She glanced at him and grimaced. "Sorry…there was nothing solid enough to smuggle."

"It's fine. They fed me here, actually—not much, but it was food. I think. So apparently they're not out to starve me. Stryker probably just wants to keep me on lockdown until he can get Shaw here to deal with me." Erik scowled deeply at the last part, and then shook it off.

Raven sighed and leaned into the wall. "I'm surprised Charles didn't ask you about it before he went back to sleep. I'm really starting to worry about him, I—"

"I told him, when you came in. He was about to ask me."

"Okay, sometimes the telepathy thing is annoying…."

Erik smirked weakly, and it didn't quite make its way to his eyes. Then they were both quiet, and eventually they realized that it was getting late.

"Maybe we should just get some rest," Raven said quietly, and then glanced around the cell guiltily. "Not that I'm sure how that's going to work."

"I'll be fine on the floor," Erik said quickly. "I'm the one who got myself into this; I'm not taking anyone's bed."

"No, you got into it helping my brother; you'll take mine."

"I'm not making you sleep on the floor."

"I don't have to sleep on the floor; I can climb in with Charles. After being here this long it doesn't really matter anymore." And Erik hesitated, and Raven didn't like the look on his face. "What?" He opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first, as if he were debating what to say or not. "Erik, what?" Raven demanded, careful to keep her voice down.

"It's just…I know how close you are and I know he usually wouldn't mind at all, and that's fine, but I wouldn't do that right now. I really wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"It's just not a good idea. He's…I just wouldn't. At least not without asking him first. Give him some more time."

Raven's eyes narrowed almost of their own accord. "What aren't you telling me?" she questioned. "Both of you. You're not telling me everything." And the part of her that didn't want to know was back, but she fought it down.

"He'll be fine. Like I said, I would just wait before doing something like that…"

"I didn't ask if he would be fine. Why did you think you needed to tell me that? What's going on, Erik? Charles has been acting strange all day. What the hell happened out there?"

"I can't answer your questions, Raven. The answers aren't mine to give."

She stared at him, fear crawling into her throat and lodging there. She swallowed. "Erik…what happened?" she repeated.

Erik let out a breath. "Do you trust me?"

"It depends."

"I need you to trust me. Please stop asking questions, and just keep your own bed for tonight, all right? I'll be fine down here."

It took a long time for Raven to decide whether she wanted to agree to that. She really didn't, but she doubted that she had a choice. Finally she nodded, silently, and bent to kiss her brother's forehead before she climbed up into her bunk.

But this conversation was not over, she swore to herself.

And she doubted she would really sleep.

Raven finally went up to her bunk, and Erik settled on the floor against the wall, folding his arms under his head.

Then something hit him in the face in the dimness, and he shot up into a siting position ready to defend himself.

But it was only a pillow that was in his lap now, and he glanced up at Raven with raised eyebrows.

She only returned his gaze for a second before she let out a breath and rolled away out of view. "If you're going to insist on sleeping down there at least take the damn pillow. I have a mattress."

"A sad excuse for one," Erik shot back.
"And that pillow is just as sad. So we're even. Now if you're not going to tell me anything tonight go the hell to sleep."

She said nothing else, but with that exchange Erik knew that she wasn't too horribly angry with him. And weeks ago, months ago, he wouldn't have cared either way but somehow that meant a great deal to him now.

"Good night, Raven."

Erik settled down again, punching the pillow into a more useful shape between him arms. It did help, some, and he supposed the floor would be warm enough later once he'd been lying here for a while. And then again he was used to sleeping just about anywhere, and he knew he needed to keep rested—be ready to get out of here as soon as they were able—so he closed his eyes and tried to drift off.

She's going to figure it out, isn't she?

Erik's eyes opened, but he didn't move. Charles? I thought you were asleep.

I was…well, barely. Not for long. I don't know…it's quite easy to get to sleep but very difficult to stay that way. I suppose I need the rest, but if I…nevermind.

Nightmares, was what he didn't say. Erik could easily suppose that much.

I'm sorry…

A mental shrug. Thank you, but I doubt there is anything you can do about it.

Erik was quiet for a moment. How much did you hear?

Charles hesitated. I uhm…rather all of it, I believe.

Erik bit back a curse. I'm sorry, I—

Why are you apologizing? You did exactly as I asked. He paused. Though it doesn't seem to be doing much good.

She's not stupid, Charles, Erik sighed. I know you want to protect her, but yes, I do think she's going to figure it out eventually. If not much sooner. Really I think the only reason she hasn't figured it out already is because she doesn't want to.

Charles was quiet for a long time, and Erik was beginning to worry when he finally replied again, pain in his voice even telepathically.

Is it that obvious?

Erik blinked and sat up, and when he glanced in Charles's direction his friend was facing him, but not quite looking at him. Charles, that's not what I meant…

Charles's eyes closed again entirely. Stryker took one look at me and knew what had happened, he thought miserably.

It wasn't just you. It was the way I was reacting. It was everything. Not you.

But…

Charles. Charles, look at me. Right now. It took a moment, but he did, and neither of them could see well in the dimness, but it was enough. You're going to be all right, you hear me? We're going to get through this, and then we're getting out of here. I know it's going to take time, but you're going to be fine, and we're all going to be free. He shifted close enough, and when he did he could see the tears on Charles's face.

This time when he reached out Charles didn't pull away. He let him take one of his hands and squeeze it. I promise.

And Charles nodded just a little, gratefully, and dried the tears away with his free hand, finally seeming to begin to believe it again.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"It's necessary, so it doesn't particularly matter, does it?" Charles sighed.

Erik looked at him warily. "It doesn't if you're not strong enough yet. Yes, this is important, but we don't need you wearing yourself out any further."

Three days later, and from what Charles could tell his powers had returned as much as they were going to at this point. He'd said that he was up for attempting to form protection for Erik's mind—protection that would be needed if Emma Frost were to arrive with Shaw before they could get out of here—but Erik was skeptical. Charles had been prepared for that, and that was they'd wait until Raven was asleep to have this discussion.

"I'm afraid there is not going to be any avoiding of the fact that this will not be easy for me." He let out a breath and made a face. "I imagine I would need months, at the least, outside of this place, to get back to where I was before—however long it would take to get the strength back physically that I had before all of this began."

"Is it really that closely connected?"

Charles shrugged from where he sat against the metal headboard of his bunk. "Unfortunately, yes. But it seems that way with the non-physical aspects of most mutations." Erik only grunted quietly in understanding, and Charles shifted forward. "Now do you want to try this, or do you not?"

"Only if you're sure…"

"I'm as sure as I can be, but…well, I'm sorry that I can't promise anything. I wish I could. I want you to be safe…"

"Just do what you can."

Charles nodded, still wishing he could be more sure, but he brought his fingers to his temple and delved into his friend's mind.

He went in as far as he'd been before, and he didn't necessarily need to be that deep but he was looking for something.

He found it. Free-floating scattered remains of the shattered barriers that Frost had put around Erik's old memories before Charles had freed them. He could use them for building blocks, for a starting point. Hopefully that would make this a bit easier. He gathered them and dragged them up to the surface, rewriting their orders as he went.

Your maker? She is the enemy now. Do not let her in. Show her what she wants to see…tell her that you are where she placed you. Tell her that this mind is the same as she last left it.

The hard part came when he began to arrange the pieces of the re-tasked barriers around the edges of Erik's mind—and even more so when he began replicating he pieces to fill in the gaps. It took so much more from his reserves than dealing with the pieces that he had not created, and even while he was still in Erik's mind he felt his body swaying, felt the nausea building.

But after a moment he felt strong hands on his shoulders, too.

Charles smiled to himself and kept working as long as he could, but he couldn't finish. Not all at once. But they had expected that. He came back to the world with a small moan, opening his eyes and letting his fingers fall from his head, and when he tipped forward the hands on his shoulders steadied him and kept him upright.

"Charles?"

He grimaced and pressed the heels of his hands to the sides of his head. His temples were pounding. "I'm all right. However, as expected, I'm afraid we'll have to finish this later."

He managed to fight back the nausea before he actually had to vomit this time, but that was only because he'd stopped. When he was helping Erik uncover his memories, when they'd first broken those barriers he was reusing now…it would not have been a good idea to stop in the middle. He'd had to keep going.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I…mmm…." Charles made another face and leaned back into the headboard, pressing the back of a hand to his mouth to fight off one of the last heavy waves of nausea before it finally receded. He huffed a bit. "At least I managed to get quite a bit done, I think. Once or twice more and you should be all right."

Erik still looked concerned. "Let's just hope it takes a while for them to show. I don't want you working on this again until you're sure you're strong enough."

"Really, Erik, I'm all right."

"You're as white as a sheet." Erik glanced down at the sheets beneath them that were decidedly not white—more off-white or brown than anything. "A sheet from elsewhere."

Charles chuckled quietly, and the sound almost startled him. It was the first such sound that had come out of his mouth since…well, anyway. He shied away from that thought.

But Erik was smiling now, apparently thinking the same thing—the good side of the same thing—and as bright as it was Charles couldn't help but smile back.

That night Erik dreamed things he hadn't dreamed so violently since just after his memories had been recovered. Shaw and his mother's death and he didn't know what had brought it on but then the nightmares were different, and they weren't his.

But he knew whose they were, and he knew he didn't want to be seeing them. The yard and the post and the chains and the guard—his sneering face from earlier in the day and what had happened then and Erik knew now, why he'd wanted to hurt Charles.

He was sick, and Erik didn't mind at all anymore that he was dead and suddenly there were so many more details that he didn't want to know and he tried to fight out of it, he knew he was dreaming now but he couldn't. Charles was projecting too strongly even though he certainly couldn't mean to, and even when was Erik was relatively sure he was actually awake he still saw it.

He still saw it, felt it, heard Charles screaming in his memories.

Oh god oh god oh god…every bit as awful as he'd been afraid of.

Erik heard a heavy thump, struggled to lift his eyes and see through the haze of the nightmare over his vision, and realized it was Raven, dropping down out of her bunk. She was crying, stumbling, obviously unable to see clearly for the same reason that he couldn't.

Then she knew now. Damnit.

Raven dropped to her knees by the bed, and Charles was curled on the edge whimpering loudly in his sleep, and she clutched a hand and a shoulder and shook him. "Charles, wake up! You have to wake up! It's a dream! Oh god, please wake up…" She said it through sobs, desperate to wake him and stop what they were seeing—stop him from reliving it. "Charles!"

Erik was pushing himself up against the wall, trying to get to his feet, but the images imposed over his vision and the way he could almost feel it, too, threw off his equilibrium and his head ached and it was slow going.

"Raven—"

She didn't acknowledge that she'd heard him at all. She was too focused on Charles, but Charles wasn't hearing her. She pushed herself up using the edge of the bed as if she wanted to climb into it, but with Charles on the edge the only space on it was behind him.

Not a good idea.

"Raven, wait—!"

Erik lurched forward, but he lost his balance and landed into a heap against the wall again—closer, but still tangled on the ground, and that was no help.

Raven crawled clumsily over her brother and rolled onto the mattress behind him, wrapping her arms around him and trying to talk to him. "Charles, it's me, it's okay, please wake up, god, please…!"

But when she pressed into his back he reacted violently, jerking back quickly and screaming now. "NO! Noooo—!" And after that it was more a keening wail than anything, but after jerking back to keep from being head-butted initially all Raven did was hold onto him tighter.

"Charles, it's okay! It's ME! It's Raven! WAKE UP!"

But he was awake now, to a certain point, and the nightmares were fading and Erik could see again.

"Charles, PLEASE! It's me! It's okay! Calm down!" Raven begged desperately. He was struggling against her, yanking his arms free and someone was about to get hurt. Erik knew Raven meant well, but she was too shocked and upset to realize that she was doing exactly the wrong thing.

"Damnit, Raven, did you not see the same dreams I saw? Get the hell out from behind him!" Erik shouted.

He moved at the same time, surging forward to reach over the bed and pull her away, but once he'd grabbed her arm and before he could forcibly pull her off Charles's elbow hit her full in the face. She shouted, and her grip released automatically, and Erik grabbed her under the arms and dragged her back to the foot of the bed. He did it so quickly he lost his footing and they landed hard on the end of the mattress, against the footboard.

At the same time, as soon as he was free Charles scrambled up against the headboard, where he seemed to feel safer with his back pressed to the metal. His screaming fading away, became quiet moans, and as he caught his breath his eyes opened blearily, not really seeing much yet, and he started to truly wake rather than being reactive.

Both brother and sister were sobbing.

"Damnit," Erik breathed aloud. Just in general. He had an armful of crying shapeshifter, she knew now what had happened to her brother, and Charles was going to be more than a little upset about it when he came to his senses.

Though that might take a bit, thanks to this fiasco. One step forward, half a dozen steps back seemed to be the rule here.

"I told you not to do that…" he said helplessly.

"Maybe if…you had told me why…!" Raven choked out angrily, between sobs. But the anger was gone quickly and it was only the tears. "I'm sorry, I'm…I'm sorry. Oh god that's—that's what really happened, isn't it? Oh my god, oh god, Charles...!"

And she was crying, and Charles couldn't seem to stop either, shuddering against the headboard, and Erik didn't know what to do.

Chapter Text

Raven was the first one to calm down, and when she had she pulled away from Erik and sat up. But she was no less upset, and she slumped dejectedly against the wall while Charles still cried. Erik knew she wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but she seemed afraid to get anywhere near him now—afraid of upsetting him any further.

"Charles," she begged finally, but she didn't move. Erik didn't either.

Ever so slowly Charles stopped trembling, and his sobbing faded to sniffing until he bent forward to bury his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"No, don't…" Raven trailed off and swallowed.

"You weren't supposed to…to know…I didn't mean to—" He had to stop as his body shook from the aftereffects of the sobs. "Oh god…" he moaned.

Erik watched her shift a little closer, hoping rather irrationally that Charles might be able to let her near him because he knew it was going to break her heart when he shied away.

But she stopped moving before she elicited a reaction, and reached out with just a single hand to curl her fingers around two or three of his and pull one of his hands away from his face.

"Charles…"

He let his other hand drop and let her keep hold of the one she had, but he didn't look up. Still, even in the dimness Erik could see the tears still on Charles's face from here, and he wished he knew what to say. What to do.

And maybe it was because she already had his hand, but when Raven moved slowly to sit beside him Charles didn't move. He flinched a bit at first, and Erik saw the pain on her face, but Charles didn't stop her. He pulled his knees up to his chest, as he did so much now, because maybe he felt safe that way, but either way he let his sister be there, beside him, and he let her hold onto him.

Erik let out a breath. Maybe not quite so many steps back then.

"God, Charles, I'm so sorry…" Raven was whispering.

"Raven, please, can we not—"

"Okay…okay, shh…" She began to wipe the tear stains from his cheeks with her thumb and her sleeve, and he wasn't stopping her from doing that either.

It was a good thing, but Erik knew he shouldn't be watching anymore. He should be leaving them alone. He got up silently, then, and went back to his place on the floor.

But he would be there if he was needed.

Raven wished that she could erase what she'd seen, but Charles couldn't erase his own memories and it was unthinkable to ask him to change hers. He was having a hard enough time as it was.

God that was such an awful understatement…

He was just as quiet the day or two after that, but now at least she understood why—why he was so skittish, too—and she did everything she could to help. She glared off anyone who attempted to bother him, kept the boys from asking questions, and she knew Charles noticed, but he didn't say a word about it.

That, really, was what worried her more than anything else. For two days he let her protect him, too upset to muster the will to make her stop, and because she wanted nothing more than to make it better she couldn't bring herself to stop even though it bothered her that he let her do it.

Raven didn't feel any better at until the third day, when he touched her arm at breakfast and shook his head a bit before she'd even narrowed her eyes to glare at Sean because she could just tell that he was about to ask Charles if he was all right. Again. Even though she'd glared at them all for the past two days for bringing it up at all.

They were stubborn, and usually she liked that about them, but not today.

But Charles stopped her.

Let them be, he told her silently. I'm…not all right, I'm not sure what I am, but you don't need to do that. Thank you.

Raven let out a breath, trying to keep the relief from being too apparent because the boys were all sitting right there. Okay…

And Sean didn't say anything after all, and breakfast went well enough after that.

The problem came after breakfast.

There were several more guards than usual in their corridor when they made it back to the cell, and Charles stopped in his tracks halfway to their door. He must have skimmed their minds to find out why they were there.

The way he paled so quickly told her everything she needed to know.

"No no no they can't do that; it's barely been a week," she hissed under her breath.

"Stryker can do whatever the hell he wants," Charles croaked weakly. And before he could even take a step back half of the men were on him, and the rest were dragging Raven the rest of the way toward the cell.

"Charles!"

She knew he was scared. She knew he didn't want to go with them, but he wouldn't make a scene here, with the others in their corridor streaming around them on the way to their cells.

Tell Erik the rest…tell him what happened last time. If I come back the same way you won't have to do that again. What you did. He'll do it. Tell him. It came through to her shaky and distorted and coated in terror.

Charles! "No!" she shouted aloud, struggling.

Raven, don't let them hurt you! Charles thought sharply. And then he was out of sight, and the cell door was open and they pushed her in and the door shut in her face.

"NO!" She knew she wasn't quite thinking as she threw all of her weight into the door and pounded her fists into it—knew it wasn't going to do any good—but she didn't care. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS! CHARLES!"

"What the hell is going on! Where's Charles?" Erik demanded. He was on his feet and scowling, just behind her.

"Cerebro!" she choked. "They took him. Oh god…god, they haven't fixed it. Oh god…"

Now Erik was pale. "What? No. They couldn't have. It hasn't been long enough. We should have more time. We should have been out of here before they took him again."

"Tell Stryker that!"

"Damnit," Erik seethed. "No no NO…"

By the time they were away from the cell blocks and anyone else who might see Charles was struggling. He didn't have an overabundance of strength with which to do it, but he did it. He was doing it when Stryker met them at the base of the machine, and that was when he stopped.

"You can't possibly need more coordinates by now," he growled.

"No, of course not. This isn't about that, and you know it. Now that I know Lehnsherr has been sympathetic to mutants all along I'm even more convinced that there's something else going on here I should know about."

"There isn't…"

"Of course there is," Stryker glowered. Then he shrugged. "Tell me now, and you don't have to go up there."

But there was nothing he would allow himself to say.

Stryker nodded up the stairs, and Charles bit back a sob as the guards took him up into Cerebro. He tried not to shiver, too, while they restrained him in the chair, tried to breath evenly…

He didn't quite succeed as well as he'd hoped to.

Then again, he wasn't sure why it mattered. He wasn't going to be to control anything at all once they turned the damned machine on.

Hank wasn't even here this time. Charles was alone. He still couldn't reach out to anyone, because if he did he would hurt them when it began.

It occurred to him that he really was shaking now.

Charles closed his eyes because he didn't want to see Stryker give the order.

Erik stared at Raven for a long time, anger threatening to overwhelm him because of everything she had just told him.

About what had really happened because of Cerebro the last time, when he was gone.

The temporary blindness. Being unable to control his powers. Raven having no choice but to knock him out before he hurt anyone unintentionally.

So much worse than Charles had admitted to before.

Raven was trying—quite heroically, really—not to cry at this point.

"Erik—"

"I'll do it," he said quietly. "If it has to be done I'll do it."

Raven nodded weakly, and leaned into his shoulder and gave up.

Charles! Charles!

What?

He couldn't think. There was too much pain. Cerebro's usual illusion was a blur around him, and he knew he was trembling violently and soaked in sweat. His throat hurt but he couldn't quite hear himself screaming.

I'm here!

One mind, small but warm and strong and the pain was melting into the background like it had the last time. Jean.

Jean.

No.

Charles panicked. Jean, no! You can't contact me. I told you not to contact me.

But—

No, you have to go. Quickly. Please!

But…

If you talk to me now they'll know where you are! They—

Charles! Listen to me! A small child's voice, just the way he remembered it, smart and insistent but not petulant. He missed her. He wished he could talk to her. See her again.

But if she didn't break contact they would have her new coordinates, because hopefully she had managed to convince her parents to take them somewhere.

Jean—

They already know, she told him quietly.

Charles froze inwardly. No…

And he let her draw him to her, show him where she was. He saw through her eyes, saw the back of the military issue vehicle and the CIA agents and soldiers crowding it. Jean was horizontal on a bench, her head in someone's lap.

I was asleep. They made me sleep.

Oh Jean…Jean, I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen…

It's not your fault…we DID go to my grandparents' house. They found us anyway…

Are you all right?

I'm okay. They just made me sleep, that's all…but I miss my mom and daddy…where are they? Are they okay? I don't remember!

Charles searched her memories, saw the storming of the house and the tranq darts, felt the sharp sting in Jean's neck and saw everything go black. I'm sure they're fine, Jean. We'll get you home to them again. I promise you that.

But his heart was already breaking.

They haven't hurt you, have they?

No…but they don't like me…I can feel it. Except for one of them. There's one lady who seems nice. Jean looked up, showed him the face of who it was that was holding her.

Moira.

You know her, right? She thinks about you a lot…

Charles would have swallowed if he'd had any control over his body at the moment. Yes…I know her. You can trust her, Jean. She's on our side. She cares. She IS nice.

Do you want me to tell her anything for you? I don't know when I could…but I could try…

It's all right. Thank you, he told her quickly.

He still didn't know how he was going to face Moira at all.

Are you okay? She asked innocently.

She must have sensed something, to ask, or maybe it was the silence. But Charles quickly assured that he had everything reeled in. I…

But their time was up. The pain wouldn't stay back any longer, even with Jean's power to support him, and then she was gone and the agony was all he knew again. He was suddenly much more aware of his body once more—aware of the sobbing and the screaming and the clumped hair in his face and the fact that the bones in his knuckles felt as if they might pull themselves apart thanks to how tightly he was clenching the arms of the metal chair.

God, why couldn't he just black out? The neural stimulation, he supposed. Maybe if he was lucky enough he would lose consciousness as soon as they tuned it off this time.

But beyond that thoughts really weren't a possibility.

Erik was a coiled spring the entire time Charles was gone, pacing the cell furiously and putting dents in the wall without touching it…bending them out again afterwards so they wouldn't be noticed later. Raven couldn't blame him for how he felt. She felt the same. She couldn't bear to think about what they were doing to her brother, and after—

It had been too long. Longer than last time, certainly.

How much could he take?

The question made her chest ache.

When the door opened Erik, already on his feet, made it to the door first—or as close to the door as he could before the guns trained on him held him back.

Maybe he didn't really have to be afraid of guns, but he had to pretend to be.

They dragged Charles in, conscious but unable to get his feet under him, and they wouldn't let Erik close enough to catch him when they dropped him. Charles hit the floor bonelessly, landed in a trembling heap.

It was worse than last time. This time he couldn't get his breath at all, and every attempt at a breath was a moan. He curled into a ball and pressed his hands to his head until the guards were gone and the door was shut.

As soon as it was shut Erik went to his knees at Charles's side and pulled him up in his arms.

"Erik!" Charles gasped it, grasping blindly at the other man's shoulders, and his eyes opened and Raven swallowed a sob when she could see for sure that it really was like last time. Charles's vision was gone again.

Raven hovered by them while Erik pulled him close, and Charles held on tightly and pressed his face into Erik's shoulder, still moaning and trying to get enough air.

"Charles?" Erik asked urgently. "How bad is it? Can you control it?"

Charles shook his head against the shoulder. "No, I—please," he pleaded, and his own shoulders shook with a sob. "Erik, please, quickly, I'm losing—"

When Erik pushed Charles away from his body again Raven looked away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and flinching when she heard Erik hit him. Heard Charles's desperate gasping cut off and heard Erik catch him again. When she was able to look again Erik was cradling his unconscious friend against his chest, a hand carding absently through Charles's soaked hair.

His eyes were damp, his face twisted in pain, but he wouldn't cry.

Raven let out a dry sob and sank to her knees beside them.

"Erik…we have to get out. We have to do it. We can't stay here much longer." She swallowed hard, and the rest came out a whisper. "This place is destroying him. In every way possible. I'm so afraid that if we don't get out soon there won't be anything left…"

Erik only nodded once, but she knew he agreed with her. "We'll have to do without the help of his powers. As soon as he can walk again we're leaving."

Charles came back to consciousness slowly, testing his control before anything else. It wasn't much different than last time—he felt shaky, but in control. Enough control that being awake shouldn't be a problem. But this time his head still pounded much more viciously, and even flat on his back he felt nauseous.

A small groan escaped before he could stop it, and there was movement beside him in response.

"Charles?"

Erik.

Charles was on his bunk, and Erik was beside it. His voice came closer with the movement, and he must have been resting against the wall.

Charles supposed he ought to try opening his eyes so he could see for himself, but he wasn't sure how that was going to turn out. He had to admit he was a bit afraid to.

"Charles?" Erik asked again, more quietly this time.

"It's all right…I'm awake," he mumbled.

"How are you feeling?"

"I uhm…rather awful, actually."

Erik answered wryly. "At least you're admitting it."

"Yes, well…" He opened his eyes and pulled in a sharp breath. "Damn…"

"What…?"

Charles blinked several times in quick succession, and nothing. "My eyes haven't recovered. They will, but…anyhow." He felt the sudden spike of worry from his friend rather strongly. "Erik, I'll be all right."

"Fine, but that doesn't mean I can't hate it."

A hand on his arm, and he hadn't seen it coming, of course, and Charles jerked away in panic before he could process that it was Erik and it was all right.

"Sorry!" they both said at once.

His head pounded harder from the sudden movement, and Charles groaned and let it drop back to the pillow. "Ah…good lord…"

"Your head?"

"An understatement. I should stop trying to move." He paused. "And it isn't your fault."

"I hit you pretty hard," Erik said tightly.

"Yes, but if I remember correctly it was more my jaw where your fist landed. It's everything else that hurts at the moment."

"Still—"

"Still nothing. Thank you," Charles insisted quietly. He let out a breath and blinked a bit more, as if that would do anything. He still saw black, and not the ceiling. And it really was black this time—not the deep muddled gray of the first time.

He was more afraid of it this time. More afraid that it wouldn't reverse itself as well as Hank seemed to believe it should, and…and more afraid to be in it, too. The darkness. He hated it more now, than he had before. He supposed there wasn't going to be any way around that, after…what happened.

Not that he was going to tell Erik any of that.

"Where is Raven?" he asked then, to change the subject.

"At dinner. They sent enough in here for both of us in case you woke up—"

"Oh lord, I am certainly not hungry," Charles moaned, the mere thought of food enough to make the nausea worse.

"Point taken." Then there was silence for a long moment, and Charles did a bit more squinting uselessly at the ceiling that he couldn't see. It didn't make any difference to his pounding skull whether or not his eyes were open; no light was making it in right now. "Charles…" Erik sounded hesitant now, and if Erik sounded that way it had to be important.

"Hmm...?"

"Charles…I know you wanted to wait for Moira, but I don't think we can stay here any longer. It's not about the coordinates or anything else now; Stryker is trying to break you."

"I know that," he admitted quietly.

"Then you know we have to get out of here…"

Charles was quiet, and now he did clench his eyes shut. Moira…

"You're right," he said finally. "It's probably better that way anyhow…"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She wouldn't want me now. Better to leave it as it is. The last moment we had was a good one…if we leave she never has to know…

But all he said aloud was, "Nothing."

But now he was thinking about it, and he couldn't lock it away again, and suddenly the fact that his head was killing him was at the back of his mind, and all he could think of was Moira. He missed her. God, he missed her.

"Not nothing," Erik was saying. "What are you talking about? That is not your nothing face."

His face? Charles schooled it quickly, but it wouldn't stay straightened.

Moira. He had to protect her; she couldn't know. It wasn't the same as Raven and Erik knowing. If she knew…

He couldn't see her again, could he?

Charles didn't know he was crying until he felt the hand on his cheek wiping the tears away, and this time it didn't startle him as badly as before. This time he didn't mind it, and he turned into the touch as he felt Erik move up to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Charles," Erik said, and the pain in his voice was clear. "Charles, what is it?"

He shook his head minutely, unable to do more because it hurt, but Erik had to know that he wasn't going to answer. How could he answer that?

"Charles…"

Why? Why did he keep doing this? Why couldn't he keep hold of himself? It was as if he had no control over his emotions anymore—as if they were no longer his, and they were being bounced about like a cat toy on a string being batted at.

He didn't want to be, but soon enough he was sobbing uncontrollably. The hand moved to his shoulder and squeezed, and stayed there, but Erik, thank god, said nothing. Words weren't what he needed. They didn't help often. Not with this. Erik was just there, and it helped. Maybe it was why he answered anyway, finally, though he didn't quite mean to.

"Moira," he cried. "She won't…I-I can't…he took…took her. He took her…from me. He took her from me…"

Erik's fingers tightened on his shoulder, but not painfully. "Charles, what are you talking about?" he said. "Moira is fine. She'll be back. You'll be able to find her, won't you? If we leave? It'll be all right." But he knew what Charles meant. Charles could feel it. But Erik didn't want to believe he meant what he meant.

But he did. He knew it. How could Moira ever want him like this? Broken…tainted.

How would anyone want him now?

He shook his head helplessly. You don't understand…you don't understand…

That he let Erik hear, and there was movement and there were hands on both of his shoulders now, firm.

"Stop it," Erik said quickly. "You don't understand. How could you think what I think you're thinking?"

Charles choked. "I'm—" Dirty. She wouldn't want me. I wouldn't make her be with me. Not now. Not anymore. She's gone. I can't—

"Damnit, Charles, stop it! None of that is true, you hear me!"

He wasn't sobbing anymore, but the tears still tracked down his cheeks, and he felt himself shuddering.

"It's not," Erik repeated. "It's not true. She loves you, Charles. This doesn't change anything…"

Charles swallowed, and though he couldn't see Erik's face he felt the need to turn his own away anyway. "I'm tired…" he trailed, because he was. Now all he wanted to do was sleep. He didn't want to think about it anymore. It hurt too much.

"Charles…"

He brought his hands up, managed to find Erik's arms and squeezed them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just…need to rest more. I'll let you know when I'm strong enough to continue building the shields…"

It was quiet for a while, and the hands on his shoulders finally released him. "We're leaving, remember? You may not have to worry about it."

"Right. Right…"

"Get some rest," Erik told him, but his voice was all but dead now.

Charles was too exhausted to worry about it, and he twisted to face the small and let sleep take him.

He dreamed of Moira, and little Jean, and a world that wasn't so awful.

What now? What the hell now? Erik wondered.

They couldn't leave now. Not with Charles like this. They couldn't leave and let him think for the rest of his life that Moira never would have wanted him again after what had happened to him. That she wouldn't have loved him anymore.

Moira was the only human Erik cared about in any way, shape, or form, and he knew her well enough to know that none of that would be true.

She loved Charles. It wasn't going to matter to her. She would be here for him the way Erik and Raven were.

But if they left before she returned Charles might never believe it, might never try to find her again, and the thought hurt more than Erik could bear.

He couldn't watch Charles be miserable like that.

It hurt too much watching it already. Now.

And why did he believe it anyway? Charles was intelligent, damnit; why would he have ever thought it? Why couldn't he understand…

But Erik remembered his childhood—remembered everything Shaw had done to him and remembered wondering, sometimes, if he deserved it…if perhaps he'd done something wrong before. Something to deserve it. Had he not obeyed his parents enough? Had he not taken care of his mother well enough after his father died? Was he not helpful enough?

Also ridiculous. Foolish. All of it. But he'd thought it at the time, nearly believed it, even, because he was scared and hurting and not thinking clearly and didn't understand. It wasn't his fault.

It wasn't Charles's fault, either. But they had to put a stop to it.

"What is it?" Raven asked when she returned. She took one look at him and knew that something else was wrong.

Erik let out a heavy breath. He'd been pacing since Charles had fallen asleep again. "I don't know if we can leave. If we should."

"What do you mean…"

He explained it to her, clumsily, told her quietly what had happened while she was gone. "We can't leave him like that. We have to do something."

It seemed to take a bit of difficulty for Raven to be able to pull her hand away from her mouth, but she managed. "But if we stay here he's in danger," she reminded him.

"I know that! And every instinct I've always had is telling me to get out. Right now. But I'm developing new ones, and it's his fault. They're telling me it'll do more damage in the long run if we don't fix this somehow."

"How?"

"Try to wait until she comes back…?"

"I hate this too, but you know we can't do that! If he won't find her later, we can. We could do that, couldn't we? It would be better than staying here and risking them killing him with that machine."

Erik grimaced, and after a moment the resolve he'd had before Charles woke returned. "You're right." He nodded firmly. "You're right. He needs to be out of harm's way first, before we can worry about the rest." He glanced down at Charles again, and the grimaced returned. "It's just that I'm every damn bit as worried about him as you are…"

"I know," Raven said gently.

He wondered if worry would do any good.

For two more days Charles's eyesight didn't return, and it didn't make anything easier. For two days all of them were stressed enough, wondering when it would, and being blind only made being in the cafeteria or in the yard harder on Charles. He couldn't see anyone who might come near him, and it only made the jumpiness worse. Raven kept him close, tried to head off trouble, but by the time they made it back to the cell, every time, he was trying not to shake from the anxiety.

And if he remembered what Erik had told her about—what he'd said the first time he'd woken—he didn't mention it. Of course he wouldn't, but…he acted as if it hadn't happened. He tried to hide how much the blindness bothered him and smile in the general direction of the boys when they saw them, and he did everything she would have expected of him.

It was so frustrating. He wouldn't really let her help, either, when he knew she was trying to. And he wouldn't accept her help to see. She told him she didn't mind if he went into her mind just enough to use her eyes, but he wouldn't do it even though being blind scared him.

She knew it scared him. He was her brother, and she knew him. She knew it did. But he insisted that he should save what he could of his recovering powers. Whether to help in the escape or to complete the shielding in Erik's mind if they didn't leave, to protect him from Frost if she showed.

Erik was going to make the final decision as soon as Charles was more steady on his feet and he could see again.

Raven hoped to god they could just get out of here.

The third day after Stryker had him forced into Cerebro again Charles still couldn't see. It was finally more gray than black, and occasionally he caught movement, but it wasn't much.

Still, at least he knew his sight was returning.

But if it was taking the better part of a week to get it back this time, what about the next time? Or the time after that?

"Don't worry about it," Erik told him, offering a reassuring smile that Charles only, of course, sensed. "We're getting out of here as soon as you can see better and you can keep up."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

The smile was gone. "I'll have to be. I won't let them hurt you again."

"Well I appreciate the sentiment…"

Charles tried to be okay. He tried. And mostly he succeeded, but he knew that Raven and Erik knew that something was wrong.

Of course something was wrong. His heart was broken.

Charles sighed, reaching out to find one of the bunks' bedposts before pulling himself to it and finding the mattress so that he could sit down, and the hand on his elbow almost immediately, helping to guide him there, was Erik's. He knew the difference between Erik and his sister easily now, even without brushing their minds.

"I've got it…" Charles told him.

"The last thing we need is you hurting yourself."

"Perhaps, but—" He cut off abruptly, all of the air going out of him at the sudden revelation of new minds on the base.

"Charles?" Erik's hands on both of his arms now, and it was getting easier, in general, not to flinch when he and Raven did things like that. Right now, though, he was too absorbed for it to matter.

He knew these minds. He'd never touched them himself, but he'd felt them enough through Erik's memories.

"No," Charles gasped. "No no no…"

"Charles, what!"

Above them Raven was coming down from her bunk, worried. "Charles?"

With no other options Charles forced his way quickly into Erik' mind, using his eyes to be certain he didn't poke any eyes out when he reached quickly to take's Erik's head between his hands. Then he stayed in Erik's mind, because he needed to be there.

Shaw. Emma Frost. They're here. NOW. They're coming. We don't have time to get out; I have to complete these shields.

Fear, in Erik, so strong it nearly knocked Charles over, but still he protested out of concern. Charles, you're not strong enough! You can't even see again yet!

I'll have to make do! And he attacked the materials he'd built before, throwing them up as quickly as he could and gluing them together as well as he could in the time he had. He heard Erik grunt, felt Erik's hands tight around his wrists now, but not trying to pull him away, and Charles knew he was probably hurting Erik, at least some, but this had to be done.

Stryker was brining them here. To the cell. How was Erik going to explain it? He would. He would think of something. He would be safe he had to be safe.

The pieces were up, but there were gaps. Charles formed new pieces, smaller ones, as quickly as he could, and it hurt. He wasn't really ready to be doing this again. He felt himself sway forward, forehead pressing into Erik's.

No more time. No more time. How long had it been? Raven didn't understand what was happening. She was upset.

He pushed the new pieces over the holes and pressed it all together but it wasn't steady enough. It needed more energy. Energy he didn't have.

I'm almost done. It should work. Give me a moment.

They were coming. No more time. Frost hadn't noticed them yet. He had to finish this before she really started scanning.

And Charles gathered every bit of telepathic energy he had left and forced it into Erik's mind, shoring up the walls what he hoped would be enough.

He heard himself shout once, and then everything was black.

What seemed almost like a flash of too much light in his head, behind his eyes maybe, and sudden pain, and Erik suddenly felt a bit different. Like there was…a film over his mind. He knew what was there, but if a telepath were to look in they would see only what Charles wanted them to see.

And the flash was gone, but the feeling was still there, a safe feeling, and Charles was shouting, and then he collapsed.

"Charles!"

Raven gasped, surged forward as Erik caught him, and when Erik lowered him to the bed he was unconscious.

"What the hell did he do!" Raven demanded.

"They're here," Erik scowled. "He finished the shielding…" He got up from the bed so that he could pull Charles up to his pillow and tug the blanket over him. "Damnit, he didn't tell it was going to do this to him."

"Why did they have to come now? He wasn't ready…" she groaned.

Why did they have to come at all?

Erik swallowed hard and straightened, expecting the door to open at any moment. "Raven…whatever you do, don't say anything. Don't draw attention to yourself. Not when Shaw's here. He's too dangerous," he told her tightly. "Promise me. Don't."

Raven nodded warily and sat on the edge of her brother's bunk, in front of him, as if to protect him.

Good.

And that was when the door opened, and quiet tsking sound drifted in from the corridor.

"Erik, Erik, Erik. What have you gotten yourself into?"

Chapter Text

Erik turned at the voice, carefully schooling his features to something resembling neutral—letting a bit of annoyance through, if anything. Shaw was used to that from him.

He didn't say anything, and after a moment Shaw held out a hand and motioned him forward. "Come, Erik. Let's get you out of there and away from these mutants. We'll have this all straightened out shortly." Playing his part perfectly, of course.

Erik frowned and emerged slowly from the cell, resisting the urge to look back. If he were still the indifferent man Shaw thought him to be he wouldn't look back. Not that he had truly been indifferent, even before he regained his memory, but he'd never let Shaw believe anything else. Though now that he thought about it, the man may have known anyway, if Emma was a telepath.

At least that explained how she could be so damned creepy along with being such a bitch.

But she wasn't with Shaw now, and he was grateful for that. According to Charles she was on base somewhere, though. She was probably with Stryker, wherever that bastard was.

The door closed behind him, and Shaw smiled and motioned for him to follow. The man's smile had bothered Erik before, but now it disgusted him outright. It was all he could do not to make a face as he followed.

"I hope they haven't treated you too awfully," Shaw was saying.

Erik's jaw clenched, and it wasn't out of character with what Shaw would expect so he let it happen. "If you call being kept in a cell with mutants and being fed barely enough to keep a cat alive 'not awful' then no, they haven't treated me too awfully."

"Ah…I'm sorry to hear that. But as I said, we'll have this straightened out immediately. I'm sure that this has all been simply a horrible misunderstanding."

Emma Frost was indeed waiting with Stryker in his office, and because he'd been known to do it often enough before Erik was able to glare at her.

It helped a little.

"Now, Erik, I know Agent Stryker didn't give you much of a chance to explain before—and in matters of national security I can understand that—but if you would explain yourself now…"

Erik raised his eyebrows and glanced from Shaw to Stryker. Stryker was at his desk attempting to look as authoritative as possible, and it was more comical than anything. But he couldn't dwell on that now. How was he supposed to explain what he'd done in a way that would satisfy Shaw?

He had to remember not to look at Emma. Ignore her. If Charles had succeeded in what he'd tried to do she wouldn't see anything of his mind other than what she was looking for anyhow…

"I did my job too well, apparently," Erik complained, finally, nodding to Stryker and explaining more to Shaw than to the bureaucrat. "He knew I had to keep up appearances in front of the telepath, but he believed what I said in that hallway, anyway. Didn't give me a chance to explain later." He assumed that by now Shaw had heard the whole story, and no one asked questions.

Stryker only glowered. "It wasn't just what you said, Lehnsherr. It's what you did, and the way you acted about it. Either you're too damn good of an actor, or you care about those mutants. And personally I don't think you're smart enough to be that good of an actor."

Erik glared at him now, and took a threatening step forward, but Shaw stopped him with a hand and cut in quickly.

"Agent Stryker, I'm afraid that was rather uncalled-for."

"I really don't give a damn."

Now Shaw's expression grew more stern—still steady, but just as menacing anyway. "Need I remind you that your government has give me the power to take control of this facility if I find the current leadership unfit?"

Erik blinked. Was that true? If that was true they were all screwed if Shaw did take over. If he stayed here.

Damnit…

Stryker stared him down for a while, but finally broke off, and Shaw smiled smugly. "Thank you, Erik. That's all I need from you. You're free to go; from what I understand your things are still in the room you were assigned before. The room is still yours."

"I'm staying here?" Erik demanded, feigning anger.

"For a while, at least. I may need to you to keep an eye on Agent Stryker here for a bit, if nothing else."

Stryker opened his mouth to protest, but quickly snapped it shut and simply glowered again. It was the quietest Erik had ever seen him, and he had to admit he was liking it.

Shaw continued. "But as I said, that is all we needed from you. I'm sure you're hungry; you should get yourself something to eat." As if he really cared at all. But either way, it was clear that he wanted Erik to vacate the office. Erik went, only because he would have before, and when he glanced back and through the windows saw Shaw backing away from Stryker's desk to let Emma in closer he had a feeling he knew what was about to happen.

More than likely Emma was going to do something to the man's memories—tinker with them, rid him of his suspicions…something. That had to be it. A moment later Stryker's expression was blank and Erik knew he was right. He kept going before Shaw or Frost could catch him watching.

He didn't go to the personnel dining hall, as Shaw had suggested. He was hungry, but he was used to that—used to it from his childhood, used to it from the last week or more of it—and knowing his friends back in the cells were just as hungry left him really not in the mood to eat. He went to his room instead, and found everything just as it had been left.

The table was still not quite as it had been. The bed was unmade, the chair was still beside it, and the remains of the shattered flashlight still littered the floor by the wall. Because he didn't know what else to do Erik moved the chair back to its place and made the bed, cleaned up the flashlight remnants, and spent more than an hour fine-tuning the fixing of the metal table. Eventually it looked better, but not as good as he'd wanted it to.

He only hoped they could make it through Shaw's intrusion without disaster, get everyone out of here, and have the chance to put Charles back together more successfully than that.

Charles opened his eyes to blackness again—much deeper than the dull gray his vision had been before he'd lost consciousness—and it was the frustrated groan that signaled he was awake. He sensed Raven stirring near him, and the movement told him she was on the floor by the head of his bunk.

"Hmm? Charles…? What is it?" He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and then there was a hand on his cheek. "Damn. Did that set you back?"

He nodded, let his arms drop and let out an unsteady breath—unsteady from the nausea and headache just as much as from being upset.

"Erik…?" he managed then. His voice came out quiet and cracking from the developing dryness in his throat.

The hand at his cheek brushed up and through his hair. "He went with Shaw…he didn't really have a choice if he was going to keep up appearances. He said you managed to finish the shields…"

"The best I could," he sighed. "God, I hope it's enough." Charles tried to move, to sit up, but even though he did it slowly and Raven's hands went to his shoulders to steady him it was hard. Still, maybe he could have made it up, but the nausea was a bit too much just now. He had no choice but to lie back again, groaning quietly.

"Are you all right?"

He grimaced. "I will be. It's only that I didn't precisely have what I really needed to do that."

"I could have told you that," Raven said. But she wasn't scolding him. She knew what he'd done had been needed. "Will he be all right?" she asked.

Charles swallowed. "I think so. I hope so. It's only that…even if the shields work as well as I hope they do, they can't hide current emotions, active thoughts...there would be no way to do that without alerting Frost immediately. Erik knows this, we spoke about it, and I know he can control himself outwardly—he is more than adept at that—but…"

"He can't stop himself from feeling things. No one can."

Charles nodded. "Exactly...I…it' s the only thing that worries me. Erik is…I know his control makes it seem quite the opposite, but really he is such an emotional person…passionate. He cares so much…feels injustice so deeply…feels compelled to do something about it. It's only Shaw and Frost that have suppressed him for so long."

"I know…I've noticed some of it. What I can notice not being a telepath, anyway. It's why I like him."

Charles nodded, but he frowned. "Still…I'm not entirely certain I want to know where his life would have led him by now if he had escaped Shaw earlier."

"Why do you say that?"

The anger that had been more prevalent in the beginning, for one thing. The part of him that was not sorry he'd killed the man in the yard. But part of Charles felt that way too and he couldn't really blame Erik for it…

Still, the anger had been so overwhelming in the beginning. It was still there, under the surface, even though part of Erik, to his credit, wished it wasn't.

"It's difficult to explain…" he trailed quietly. She wouldn't quite understand—not unless she could feel Erik's mind the way he could.

All Charles could do was continue to be there for him…continue to give him alternatives to taking out his anger in violence.

Raven was quiet then, the fingers of one hand still combing gently through his hair, and it really was helping to soothe the headache and nausea away. It was either that, or the undercurrents of concern and protectiveness and love from her mind. If Charles was honest with himself, it was soaking in those feelings from Raven and Erik alike that had kept him going since what had happened that night in the yard.

Charles didn't know what he would do without either of them.

"Well?" Shaw questioned.

Emma crossed her arms as they paced slowly through the corridors. "The walls I put up are still there. They're a little weaker than usual, but I suppose that's to be expected after spending so much time around other mutants. A little brushing up and they should be fine, but I wouldn't suggest doing that immediately."

"And why is that?"

She narrowed her eyes. "The walls are in place, but something still feels…off. I can't explain it."

"You think we should look into this more."

"Yes."

Shaw smiled. "We can do that. Did you get enough from Stryker to get started?"

"Of course I did. And I can always get more."

Two or three days, and nothing happened. Shaw and Frost were there, walking the facility, looking as if perhaps they were inspecting the premises, the conditions…but staying out of sight of the other prisoners, which he didn't quite understand. But anyhow, Erik had expected more. He'd expected trouble.

Trouble came the day he passed Emma in the corridor alone.

He'd passed her already, and he had hardly even acknowledged her. He was walking away when it happened. The sudden projected memory. Not his. Not Emma's. It was Stryker's. Somehow he simply knew, the instant it hit him.

Charles. Restrained in Cerebro. Charles shaking and sobbing and screaming, drenched in sweat. Charles in pain. And more than see the memory, he could feel it. He could feel how much the bastard had enjoyed it.

It all hit him so quickly Erik drew in a sharp breath before he could stop himself. His eyes were damp in fractions of a moment, and he stumbled into the wall when he couldn't see where he was going any longer. He could see only the projection.

Then it was gone, and he was able to process the fact that Frost was behind him. Frost had done that.

Frost had to have heard him.

He heard her stop walking, heard her turn around. "Something wrong, Erik?"

Bitch.

He blinked the dampness in his eyes away and turned around, forcing a nonchalant smile onto his face. "Nothing. I tripped."

She smirked at him. "Be more careful." And she turned on her carefully polished white heel and stalked away.

Erik retreated to his room as soon as she was out of sight, but before he had the door closed behind him it hit him again. The same memory. More of it. Other memories. Charles sobbing in dread before the machine was turned on again after he'd already had too much, the fear on his face before they'd even begun the second time, only a few days ago…all of it stolen, memories through Stryker's eyes and tinged with the enjoyment and smugness the man had felt at the time, and that only made it all the more horrifying.

What the hell was Frost doing?

But he couldn't wonder much about it now. He really couldn't. He'd already yanked his door closed the rest of the way, and he felt himself slipping to the ground by the wall but there was nothing he could do about it.

Oh god, it hurt too much. He didn't want to see this…

Erik's clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for it to stop. Waiting for Frost to disconnect or be out of range…he couldn't react. Not now. Not while she was so close. She would know.

By the time it stopped Erik was nearly sweating with the effort, and he could almost feel her pulling away from the shroud around his mind.

Was it only his imagination that it felt weaker now?

He let out a heavy breath that was more a sob than anything when she was gone, and soon enough the tears were free. More than anything he wanted to call out to Charles, tell him he was sorry it had happened at all, sorry he hadn't been able to protect him…but it seemed cruel to remind him of it now. Wrong to drag him into this now.

Erik pulled himself to his feet, refusing to stay crumpled by the wall, but even though they were no longer being forced on him the images were there, part of his own memory now, memory of seeing them, and he couldn't force them away. Not when they were what they were.

God…oh god. He had heard the rest of Raven's side of the story. He knew what Charles had told him. He remembered the fear on Charles's face that he had seen himself the one time they'd spoken about it, though briefly. He'd been there when they brought him back the second time. But somehow he had never imagined it like that. Not quite like that. Not that horribly.

Though of course, he hadn't wanted to.

What was the point? Why show him that? If they still thought that he didn't know Shaw and Emma were mutants, how did they expect to explain it away? Of course, Emma had acted innocently enough in the corridor and they would assume that she could always erase it later…but what was the point anyhow?

A test. It had to be a test. Maybe the shields were working well enough, but they weren't satisfied, were they? Somehow they weren't satisfied.

And Erik knew he had no choice but to let Charles know what had happened.

Charles…he thought with a heavy heart, I think we have a problem.

He was still squinting at everything, but Charles could see now—to a certain extent anyway, so he said—and it was the only thing that was making Raven feel any better just now. It had been nearly three days since Shaw showed, and all of them were nervously waiting to see what would happen.

When Charles got that distant look on his face she knew he was communicating with Erik, and she also knew it couldn't be good.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously.

Charles finally blinked and glanced up at her. She'd been on her feet, walking because there was nothing else to do.

He made a face. "Frost. Erik is afraid that she and Shaw may suspect something. They're…playing games."

"Meaning what?"

"Trying to upset him—get some sort of reaction from him that may reveal his loyalties."

"But what about the shields? Should she be able to just read his mind, see what she wants, and be happy about it?"

"That was the idea, but even those shields can't keep them from being suspicious." The more he said, the more worried he looked. "And the shields aren't as strong as I wanted them to be. They may not feel as natural as they should—as they would have if I'd been able to finish them properly. I'm afraid that may have something to do with it…"

Raven swallowed, wishing she didn't understand how seriously this was all in danger of going bad. "What do we do now?" she asked eventually.

"Pray, I suppose."

"He reacted. He definitely reacted, and it was more than surprise or confusion. He was upset. There's something going on here."

"I expected something," Shaw agreed. "I never quite thought we would get out of this without a mess to clean up, but if Erik really has fallen in with the telepath and his friends at least he's likely to have the information we need."

Emma raised eyebrow. "You mean whether or not they're planning something."

"That, among other things. Part of this has been that I need to know how deeply involved the telepath really is—how much he cares in general, really, and how far he's willing to go. Presenting him with a case like our Erik was the perfect way to do it. And I need to know if he can be broken. There was never going to be a way to fool him, of course, so it's a shame, but if he can't be broken he'll have to die."

"Do you want me to continue for now?"

"For now. I suspect we'll need to take further action to tell us for sure if Erik's mind needs to be re-tasked again, but give it another day or two."

Frost didn't stop. Erik stayed away from her as much as he could without it seeming strange, but he couldn't avoid her completely. Or Shaw. More than once Frost hit him again when they were both nearby, and it wasn't just Cerebro anymore. It was other things, too. Things he hadn't know about at all. Things from before he'd come here.

Charles and Raven, nearly two years ago before so much time here had made them both thinner. When Charles hadn't been so pale. When the labs had been a place Charles was familiar with and Stryker had spent more time there, when the tests they'd been running hadn't required the scientists to vacate the premises.

Charles had never talked much about the labs. Now Erik understood more why that was, because Frost only shoved the worst of it on him.

There was one memory, in particular…one that caught him off guard more than the rest. One that angered him so thoroughly that when Emma needled it into his mind he had to leave. They were in the dining hall and he feigned being sick and quickly left before it could overwhelm him—before he reacted any more violently in front of Shaw and Frost than the barely contained gasp when it began.

Erik couldn't keep the dampness from his eyes long enough to get out of the room. He had to duck his head, and he knew it didn't seem quite normal, but if he'd stayed he would have given himself away even more obviously than that.

Charles, what the HELL? he managed to think, looking for an abandoned stretch of corridor to stop in. But it was too late in the morning. He didn't find one. He kept going, jaw clenched and teeth grating together painfully.

What…? Oh. Oh…Erik, I'm sorry. I…you didn't need to know that.

I don't understand. What were they doing to you? What was the point? Why the hell did you never SAY ANYTHING?

It was more than a year ago, Erik…near the beginning. It seems so long ago now, and it's hardly important…

Erik had reached his own hallway now, and thank god everyone was up now and out of their rooms and this corridor, at least, was empty, because there wasn't far to go but the memory hit him again—Frost attacked him with it again. He wondered why she did it when she couldn't see him, but she was probably picking up some of his feelings, at least. She had to be getting something out of it.

Which meant they were screwed.

The sudden image dropped him to his knees this time. It was all from Stryker's point of view, still, but he could almost feel the pain himself anyway.

Charles, on the same table in the same lab where Erik had met him the first time. But strapped down much more firmly, immobile, half of his fingers broken and electrodes connecting wires to his arms and legs rather than his head and neck.

The wires weren't trailing to a monitoring device this time. Charles's body spasmed and twitched, his face twisted in a frozen cry of pain, and when his hands twitched it was only worse. And he couldn't breathe. Not until it stopped. But it never stopped for long. When it did his breaths were short and shallow and ragged, paired with choked sobs that he seemed to try to keep quiet.

Then it was gone again, and Erik was leaning into the wall and his face was pressed into a hand against the cool metal and his skin was wet there—the moisture from his eyes.

Charles, he moaned inwardly. That's…god, that's not unimportant. Erik pulled himself to him feet and all but staggered the rest of the way to his room. What happened? Why…?

It was a long time before Charles answered.

Just another of their experiments, really. For a while they were convinced that if I needed to badly enough I could keep myself from feeling pain. Unfortunately, that's not quite true. I can make it easier to deal with…I can help others; take it from them to a certain extent…but I can't cut myself off from it. Or at least I can't now. If I have the ability I haven't developed it yet. I never had a need for it before this place…

Erik swallowed hard. But they thought you could. They wanted to know.

They tried to make it necessary…yes. They tried for quite a while. It was one of their first obsessions, before they settled on trying to decipher a way to control me.

They'll get back to that, eventually, if we don't get out of here.

I know…

Erik shut his door behind him and leaned back into it, jaw clenching again. Charles, you didn't have to hide this. You know everything about me. You know I've been through things just as…you knew I would understand.

The answer was quiet and weary. You knew about the labs, Erik. You've been a subject of one yourself before. I didn't think the details were necessary. We don't discuss what Shaw did to you, either, my friend. There isn't any need to. Not now. It's in the past.

He had a point, damn him, but still…

No. No still. It was his own fault, for never allowing himself to realize just what he had already known really meant. He'd never wanted to admit to himself that, though for Charles it was all more recent, his friend had a past just as checkered in pain and trauma as his own. Erik had never wanted to think of it that way, because it was painful to do.

Charles had tried to tell him before, that they weren't so different, but Erik hadn't really listened. He hadn't believed it. But it was true, wasn't it? The difference between them was that Erik had let his past change him more than he would have liked.

You can still be the man you want to be, Erik.

Erik raised an eyebrow. Listening in, are you?

I'm sorry…it's just that I worry for you.

You worry for ME? I'm not the one Stryker's all but trying to kill.

You know what I mean.

He let out a breath. I know what you mean. Then, What are we supposed to do now? Emma isn't letting up. If they didn't suspect something before I'm sure they do now; god, why can't I just…ignore it? I'm ruining everything.

There was a soft feeling in his mind, as if to tell him that Charles was smiling gently. It isn't your fault, Erik. If you could ignore it you would no longer be you. You would be someone else…someone who didn't care. And I couldn't bear that.

Erik swallowed, and a ghost of a smile tugged at his own lips before he was all seriousness again.

Maybe…but that doesn't tell me what we're supposed to if Shaw tries…I don't even know what he might try. I don't know why he's here. I know that in some way he's behind all of this, this place, everything, but I don't know why. I don't understand how he can do this. He's ONE OF US for god's sakes, and he isn't just allowing this to happen—he's MAKING it happen.

I don't know what to tell you, my friend. I wish I did.

But he's here now; can't you read his mind?

Frost would know. She is protecting him too closely. I tried, once or twice. I had to pull away before she noticed me.

Erik made a frustrated sound aloud. Then we should just get out of here. You can see all right, can't you? Your powers have recovered enough to be used, at least? Enough to make it go more smoothly? I'm fine. We should go. Now.

Under any other circumstance I would agree with you, but I can't help feeling that we shouldn't make this move with Shaw and Frost here.

We need to take them out anyway.

He felt Charles shudder a bit at the way he'd said that.

Erik…this is not about personal vendettas.

It isn't only personal. You know they're a threat.

I know that, but our primary goal is to free these people, Erik. If we try to do it with Shaw and Frost here, we risk not being able to accomplish our goal.

Erik scowled to himself. Do you really think they could stop us?

They might, Charles answered sharply. We are not invincible, Erik. None of us are. We are not unstoppable. There is always risk. Granted, there will be risks even when Shaw is not here, but attempting to get everyone out of here would be FAR too dangerous now, while he is. It isn't a risk we can take; he is too powerful, and even more so with his own telepath at his side.

Erik was quiet for a long time, wishing he didn't have to admit that Charles was right. Shaw was powerful. Erik could manipulate metal to a frightening degree, but Shaw could draw the energy from anything and turn it around on them. One couldn't fight him; not in the traditional way.

Wait. Couldn't you…?

Charles knew what he meant. I could. If I had more time recover. But I doubt Stryker will ever give me that, he answered softly. Altering Shaw's mind would be the only acceptable way to stop him permanently, but I…I'm not strong enough. Not now.

He should have known that. He did know that. God…

Erik grimaced when he felt the waves of shame and guilt and helpless uselessness seeping through from his friend's end, and he quickly put a stop to it.

I know. It's all right. What are you suggesting, then? We wait until Shaw and Frost are gone before we do this?

Yes. Shaw can be taken care of later. When I CAN.

The part of him that wanted to kill Shaw (and Stryker) outright warred with the part of him that had been shaped by knowing Charles—the part that knew it would be wrong. Right…later, I suppose.

I know it's difficult for you not to take action against him now, Erik, and I'm sorry, but—

But you're right. We'll wait. But only as long as we have to. The second Shaw and his sidekick are gone we're getting out of here. We can't give Stryker the chance to put you in that machine again. He felt Charles's mental recoil at the mention of Cerebro and immediately felt awful for mentioning it at all, but the point had to be made.

Charles steadied himself mentally, and Erik felt something that seemed to substitute for a resolute nod. Agreed.

And Erik swore to himself that once they were free Shaw's days—at least as the self he was now—were numbered.

And what if Shaw doesn't leave? Erik thought then.

We will have to cross that bridge when and if we come to it.

"You've been pretty quiet…and I'm not liking the look on your face either. Again," Raven was saying.

Charles blinked a bit, focusing on the others once more and really seeing the concrete of the yard again.

"I'm sorry. Something rather…urgent, I suppose, came up."

"How's Erik doing?" Sean asked. Sean being the only one of them that had met Erik at all, really, besides Charles and Raven.

"I'm not entirely certain how to answer that. He's all right at the moment, but the situation is growing worse, I'm afraid. None of us will be safe until Shaw and Frost have gone and it is looking less and less like they will go—at least not before making some sort of further trouble."

Darwin huffed. "And we're really just gonna sit around here and wait for something bad to happen?"

"Where would we go?" Hank snorted. "I don't like it any more than you do, but we don't have a lot of options. In case you've forgotten, we're prisoners."

"Not forever," Charles said quietly. "It won't be forever."

"You keep saying that," Darwin said. "I trust you and all, professor, but—"

"The less you know the safer it is for you. I've told all of you this. I know it is frustrating not to know, but I can promise you that if we can get through this incursion by Shaw it will not be long before we take action."

Sean blinked. "If?" he asked uncertainly.

Charles winced, knowing how awful it sounded. "I wish that I could promise more." There was really nothing else he could say.

He was rescued by a commotion near the yard's double metal doors. They were opening, though it wasn't time yet. But they only opened part of the way, and another prisoner was shoved through. It actually wasn't uncommon, for someone to be brought back from the labs or somewhere during mealtimes or while the group was in the yard, but Charles had never seen this man before.

He knew every face in their group, as large as it was. This mutant was not in their group, and the next group of new prisoners was not due to arrive yet. The field teams only returned periodically, the mutants they captured being held off site until then, and it was not time for them return yet. It was why Jean was not here yet.

Not that he wanted her to be.

"Who's that?"

"What…?"

"There aren't any other new ones; he can't be new. Maybe they're switching him over from a different group…" Hank supplied.

The newcomer was tall and well-built, with brown hair and a scowl and a presence that was scaring away those in the vicinity of the door. Charles brushed his mind briefly and was able to confirm that he was not really, in fact, new.

"No, he was in high security. Isolation. He's been here."

"Got off for good behavior?" Darwin questioned in amusement.

Charles shrugged. "Well…better behavior than before," he answered distractedly. Distracted, because he realized now that he had felt this mind before. For a long moment he couldn't remember exactly where…oh. Of course. "All of you stay here."

Raven caught his arm. "Where are you going?"

"I need to speak with him."

"With him? He looks dangerous."

"So does Erik, at times. Never judge a book by its cover, Raven; as old and tired as the saying is, it is often handy."

She raised an eyebrow, but she let him go. He knew she also wasn't happy letting him go when he was still a bit unsteady on his feet, but she didn't protest any further. She knew by now that it was pointless.

Charles's vision was still somewhat blurry but he made it across the yard well enough and to the open space that had formed around the door, where the newcomer still hovered for lack of anything else definite to do.

"Hello."

The man was still taking in his surroundings, and at the greeting he turned, blinking a few times before he raised an eyebrow at Charles. Charles didn't have to speak again for it to be apparent he was the one who had spoken. He was the only one close, and the only one willingly paying the large stranger any attention at all.

"You're different," the man said finally.

"How so?"

The newcomer glanced pointedly about at the rest of the mutants in the yard, who were quite pointedly far away now and just as pointedly ignoring them.

Charles smiled a bit. "Yes, well…most of them really are decent people."

"I just scare them."

"I think they simply don't know what to make of you. What with the schedule things run on here they know you aren't new. Likely they assume a small part of what I know for certain."

"What do you know?" the man retorted.

"That you've been a prisoner as long as I have—since the beginning of all of this. That you've been here all along, just not in the common cells. That before that we were held in cells in the same room at the same facility for nearly three months and I never bothered to learn your name. I'm sorry for that. I'm afraid I was…too caught up with my own problems, at the time."

He knew where he had felt this mind, now. In the beginning, on the other base. This mutant had been the occupant of the fourth cell—the angry individual he'd felt that first day when they'd taken him and his sister into custody.

All of that time, stuck in that cell alone with only Raven and Hank to speak to telepathically before they'd been moved here, and he had been too wrapped up in his own depression to find out who it was they shared the room with. And he had to admit that the angry, violent mind had frightened him. He hadn't taken the time to go deeper—to find what was beneath the surface and see the man that was there.

A good man. One who reminded him a bit of Erik, really.

Both of the other mutant's eyebrows went up now. "You're the telepath."

Charles was a bit caught off guard by that, until he remembered that this man must have been able to hear things through the walls at the other facility, just as he had been able to hear through them to some extent, too. He supposed he would have gained some idea who he was imprisoned with, with all of the yelling Stryker and McCone had done in that room. Mostly Stryker.

"Yes," he said.

"You're the reason we're all here." And strangely enough it wasn't accusing, the way he said it.

Charles resisted the urge to grimace, and the pain that was always there flared brighter and sharper in his chest. "I wish I could deny that."

The other mutant shrugged a bit and made a face. "Don't get all wishy-washy over it, god. I don't know who knows and who doesn't, and maybe some of the ones who do blame you, but I don't. Got it?" His expression softened for a moment. "I was there the day they almost killed the girl, you know."

Charles pulled in a breath, not fond of the memory. "Raven."

"Yeah. I remember that too."

"She's my sister."

The man nodded once. "I get it. I got a brother; we watch out for each other. We got separated is the only reason I'm here. Otherwise he'd've had my back."

They were quiet for a moment, until Charles decided it was probably time that he introduced himself properly. "Charles Xavier." He nodded, but didn't hold out a hand. This man didn't seem the type.

The other mutant looked at him long enough before deciding to offer his own name. "James Logan. Logan is fine, thanks."

Charles smiled in amusement. "Charles."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't call me that."

Logan smirked a bit. "Whatever you say, Chuck."

Charles gave up, rolling his eyes and catching something about long-held frustration over Logan's brother—Victor, he picked up now—calling him Jimmy. As fiercely as it seemed they protected each other there also seemed to be so many things that Logan did not like about his brother.

"Anyhow, I am sorry to be meeting you properly under such awful circumstances. It hardly makes it seems proper at all." The other mutant only shrugged, and he continued. "My sister and our friends are just back that way," he said, nodding in their general direction. "You are more than welcome to join us."

Logan looked at him warily for a moment. "I'm fine, thanks."

Charles nodded in understanding. "All right…but I'll let you know how to find us." In a moment he'd given the other mutant the faces of Raven and the others, and the places they usually were when in the cafeteria or out here. "We all need friends here," he added gently, after a moment, before he turned to go. "Think about it."

"I assume you saw that, at lunch," Emma commented later in the afternoon.

"I've seen all of it," Shaw agreed. "It isn't simple empathy he's reacting to those memories with. Erik must care for that telepath. The sister, too. Even if he remembers nothing he's grown to care for them, at least. I think it's time we remedied the problem, and perhaps you could do a better job this time?"

Emma glared. "You're the one who's always wanted him as much himself as possible."

"Erik is an exquisite creature, Emma. I never wanted to hurt him any more than was necessary, and I never wanted to stunt him any more than I had to, to keep him under control. Perhaps this time, however, it might be good to change a bit more—make sure he won't fall in with them again before we're ready to extract him and move on to the next phase."

"I'm going to need that telepath out of the way long enough to do this. I can't get inside his mind without him knowing, but I can tell he's at least strong enough at the moment to be a real nuisance if I try to do this here. If they really are friends Xavier is probably keeping tabs on Erik."

Shaw nodded quickly. "Of course, of course. I've planned for that."

Emma looked at him for a moment, and she didn't really have to read to see what he had in mind. In was right there, on the surface. "Really? Is that necessary?"

"I could have you convince Agent Stryker to have him drugged or subject him to Cerebro at its current malfunctioning level again, but that machine a third time so quickly might very well damage him. And simply having him drugged would certainly not get as much of a reaction from Erik. A final gauge of Erik's feelings and loyalties might be useful, and if we can kill the proverbial two birds with one stone and be one step closer to having the telepath subdued even while we're getting our dear Erik under control again, then so much the better."

"Hmm…all right. I can see it. Though Stryker is still doing our dirty work for us, yes?"

Shaw agreed eagerly. "Of course. We'll have a talk with him in the morning."

Chapter Text

Charles felt them coming before they made it to the cell, of course. He also knew that all of it was Shaw and Frost's doing. He could feel the suggestion planted in Stryker's mind, sticking out like a sore thumb.

It wasn't hidden at all—only to Stryker. Apparently Shaw didn't care if he knew that this was his doing.

Charles's blood ran cold when he felt them—when he picked up what they were coming for. When he knew what was going to happen. His thoughts ran rampant, trying to decipher a way to stop it, and he came up with nothing. He could erase the suggestion from Stryker's mind easily, but the guards with him already knew where they were going and why. He wasn't strong enough yet to alter all of their memories at once—not before one of them realized what he was doing and shot Raven or simply shot him, as they had been instructed to do if they suspected him of toying with their minds.

No no no, oh god…

"Charles, what's wrong?" Raven asked anxiously. Her hand on his shoulder was tight and Charles hadn't realized until now that he had not been controlling his face at all.

No matter. They would be here in a moment and she would know.

He lurched to his feet, resisting the urge to back into a corner. It wouldn't do any good.

"R-Raven, you can't…they really will kill you this time. Don't fight them. I'll be—I will live. God, I—"

"No. They can't put you in that machine again. Not so soon!"

"No! That isn't it. They—"

The door opened and Charles jumped, shoving his sister behind them. Don't fight them, don't fight them, don't fight them…

It was as much to remind himself as for Raven.

Why? What do they want!

Quite a few guards pushed their way into the cell, and when they grabbed him they pushed his arms behind his back and cuffed his wrists. Of course. That would make it easier.

Charles's heart was slamming in his chest, and his voice stuck in his throat for a moment at what Stryker said when he stepped in after the guards.

"Bring both of them."

The others were grabbing Raven now too, and Charles forced his voice out again. "NO! This doesn't concern her!"

Stryker smirked. "It does if you don't want it to."

"But—"

"Do you want to tell me what you've been up to? I'm not playing games anymore."

Charles just seethed at him.

"Tell me now and you can both stay here."

He couldn't.

Stryker shrugged and ducked out the door again.

"You can't—!"

But Stryker was leaving, leading the way for the guards to drag Charles and Raven from the cell.

Charles, what the hell is going on!

How was he supposed to tell her that?

It was the middle of the day, after the morning meal but not yet time for their group to be the yard. The yard was empty now but they brought them there anyway, pulling them out onto the bare concrete surface.

Charles!

Raven was still shouting in his head, begging to know what he knew, but he couldn't tell her. He was still desperately seeking a way stop this without putting her in danger.

There was no way. It was likely half the reason Stryker wanted her here.

His chest was heaving when they shoved him to the concrete, but he managed to stay balanced on his knees and twisted to glare at Stryker, hoping the fear didn't show as much as he felt as if it did.

"What are you doing! Leave him alone!" Raven shouted.

Stryker didn't look at her, smiling tauntingly at Charles instead when he answered. "I don't think so. We've already dragged him all the way out here, after all." He took a few steps forward suddenly, snagging Charles's chin with one hand in a nearly bruising grip, and Charles couldn't pull away because there were guards at his back again now, holding him in place even though he was on his knees. He could do nothing but glare.

"Last chance, Xavier. I'm damn tired of you and you're taking a beating either way, but you talk to me now and I'll let them bring her back first," he growled, nodding back to Raven and the men holding her.

She was already struggling, but she screamed at that. "NO! Damnit, no!"

I'm sorry, Charles sobbed inwardly. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…

CHARLES!

But he didn't say anything, and when he didn't and Stryker let him go and backed away the men behind him dragged him up by his arms—which hurt enough with his wrists cuffed.

It hurt more, of course, when one of the others shifted in front of him and threw a fist in his gut.

Lunch with Shaw and Emma again, because he had no choice, and Erik was suspicious when Emma didn't throw anything else at him. He had an absolutely awful feeling about it, in fact, and when he followed them to the offices after they ate and the rooms and cubicles were empty he felt worse.

Most of the administrative staff was on the balcony, and what he could hear from outside before they even made it to the railing turned his stomach.

Even before he and Shaw and Emma were looking down into the yard he knew it was Charles and Raven.

Erik gripped the railing tightly, wishing he could simply pitch over it and be down there and stop this right now. "What the hell?" he breathed.

Shaw gave one of those smiles of his, the one that Erik recognized now as his oh-look-watch-the-humans-be-stupid look. Stryker and the other men down there, he would assume, as the stupid ones in this situation…even if he didn't seem to mind at all where the stupidity was leading.

"It seems Agent Stryker is no longer willing to deal with your telepath friend's stubborn will," he said matter-of-factly.

Part to play. Part to play. Erik was having trouble processing that at the moment. "He's not my friend."

"Of course not. Merely a figure of speech." Shaw brushed it off easily.

A sudden scream from below made him wince before he could stop himself, and Erik quickly looked away and down to cover it, but that, of course, didn't help. Oh god oh god oh GOD he had to stop this damn the part…

They were beating him. Charles was on the ground and they were beating him and he couldn't defend himself with his wrists cuffed behind his back and damnit Raven was down there too seeing this and screaming at them but she was helpless too because they'd chained her to one of the posts and Stryker was SMIRKING and—

Charles! CHARLES!

Even from here he knew Charles's eyes were clenched shut, but he saw them blink open now. He saw them find him and focus on his from the briefest fraction of a second before another boot connected with his stomach and he shouted and coughed and spit blood and tried to double over on the concrete but he didn't make it far enough before it happened again, and then someone kicked him in the back and he arched the other way anyhow and his face twisted in pain. His eyes were shut again now.

Erik…don't…just go…! It came through patchy and strained and panicked, between the shouting and the blows and pained grunts, but that was no wonder.

I'm not leaving you! I have to stop this! They'll kill you!

They won't…you can't…ruin everything…and this time at the end of the segmented transmission a burst of pain slipped through and Erik had to screw his jaw shut and grip the railing tighter to keep from crying out. He felt Charles's horrified apology rather than hearing it in words.

Damnit don't apologize! He started to move, to…he didn't know. But he couldn't let this continue.

ERIK WE ARE TOO CLOSE TO GETTING OUT FOR YOU TO RUIN IT!

It drove him to a halt almost before he'd moved at all, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. Charles, I can't let them hurt y—!

NO! You can't stop this!

But there were no more clear thoughts from Charles after that. He was too far gone and oh god Raven was sobbing…

"Something wrong, Erik?" Shaw asked nonchalantly.

He couldn't look up. He was still trying to blink his eyes dry again. "What's the point?" he questioned, barely managing to keep the desperation out of his voice.

"Nothing else has led to him talking. He's still refused to reveal what they're planning, even to you, apparently. So you say. Agent Stryker seems to think the old fashioned way might have some greater effect."

But the way he said it—the smugness hiding under the surface—told Erik that this had not been Stryker's doing at all.

Charles. He looked again and Charles was nearly unconscious now, face-down on the concrete, and the guards around him were backing away. Erik let out a breath, thinking it was over after all until one of them began to fumble with the coiled whip at his belt.

No, damnit…!

Erik backed away from the railing, and this time there was no desperate, scolding voice in his mind—only his own desperation telling him to move, and move now, and put a stop to this before they really did kill Charles, even if they didn't necessarily mean to.

Stryker would be furious, but that didn't mean the possibility wasn't there.

He left as if he were in no great hurry, only breaking into a run once he was out of the offices.

Shaw paid no attention as Erik pulled away from the small crowd on the balcony, only turning to watch mildly just before he disappeared. Then he glanced to Emma at his side.

"Follow him," he told her. "I'll be right behind you."

Everything hurt. Everything was bruised or sore or cut or cracked. Probably. Charles wasn't entirely sure. He couldn't exactly think anymore. He did know there was blood on his face and in his eyes and mouth and in his throat. The last thing he remembered was yelling at Erik…telling him not to ruin everything…

There was concrete under his face. Under him in general, and someone was pulling handcuffs from his wrists. His arms flopped to the ground and they hurt too, were bruised everywhere, it felt like, and he couldn't move those either. He couldn't move anything. He didn't think anything was broken, outright, but it hurt too much to think about moving.

Charles…!

A pleading sob in his mind, Raven, and he barely had the strength to hear it, much less to respond. Still here…

He was relatively sure that got through, anyway.

No one had hit him in a moment or two. A long moment or two. He was relatively sure of that as well, and Charles shuddered a bit, hoping more than anything that it was over.

It wasn't over. Another moment later and a shadow bent over him and there was a knife at his collar and suddenly he wasn't on the ground in the middle of the day anymore. He was chained to post and it was the middle of the night and it was dark and Charles found one more scream, somewhere, inarticulate and pure panic.

It didn't help. The blade sliced through his clothing easily, through the jumpsuit and his t-shirt both, this time, and Charles sobbed as rough hands quickly pushed the fabric away from his back. "No, no, no…" he babbled weakly. His chest was shaking; he was crying. He wasn't in control anymore.

But the hands did nothing else. Not what he was sure they would do. They disappeared once his back was bare, but Charles was still trembling.

Shaking hurt. It only made everything worse.

And he was lost now. He felt himself slowly return to the present, unsure of what was happening until he felt the first sting across his skin.

He jerked a bit, a loud grunt escaping his lips when that hurt worse than the shivering, and then the familiar, sharp stinging came again, and again after that…

In the background Raven was screaming again, but he couldn't really hear her anymore.

Erik made it as far as the doors before Emma stopped him—pain and memories and anything else she could throw at him in his head to bring him to a stop, to double him over, and he was on his knees there in front of the door when a hand wrapped around him arm and pulled him up effortlessly.

Shaw. Of course it was Shaw.

Emma released him and Erik gulped in a breath and tried to pull away from Shaw all at once. But it didn't work. He should have known that. Shaw absorbed the energy and Erik went nowhere.

"I think we need to have a little talk, Erik," Shaw said calmly. "I think more has happened here than you've told us.

They knew. Maybe not the details but they knew he was hiding something. No reason anymore to act as if they didn't.

"They'll kill him!"

"It's of no particular concern to me if they do," Shaw deadpanned.

Erik pulled again, futilely, desperately, and it was more than a little embarrassing to be held completely immobile by a single grip on his arm. He couldn't hear Charles anymore but he could hear Raven screaming through the doors. He reached with his powers, starting to pull them open from where he was—trying to do something, anything, because they knew now and there was no reason not—but Emma made short work of crippling him again and there was only the pain on his skull and the memories he didn't want to see and he could do nothing.

And Shaw was pulling him down the corridor, away from the yard away from Charles, and Frost would not allow him a moment of peace.

"No!" he grated out.

But they didn't listen.

They stopped. Eventually, they stopped. They left Charles alone, bleeding on the ground, unconscious, and most of them left. One or two them came to the post Raven was chained to and released her, and when they did she lashed out. She threw punches, she shouted, and she hit one or two of them rather soundly before someone decked her and the lights went out for a few seconds.

By the time she made it back to her feet, still seeing stars, Stryker was gone too and the only guards left in the yard were near the door, guarding them.

It was nearly time for their group to be here anyway, she supposed. It must have been. Maybe they were being left here until then. It was the only thing that made sense—why they'd just left both of them where they were.

Raven choked back a sob when she swept her gaze across the concrete and found Charles again. She warred with herself, over whether to go to him now or get to the medical supplies first—the ones near the bathrooms at the edge of the yard—but her heart won out over her head and she hurried to her brother's side.

"Charles…"

He wasn't conscious to hear it but she sobbed it anyway as she knelt beside him. He was a wreck. She didn't know what to do first to help him. Instead she pulled him more onto his side to keep him from waking on his stomach—which would hurt as much as it had to be bruised—and pulled his head onto her knees. Soon enough she was crying. All she could think enough to do was be there, holding him and waiting for him to wake up.

The boys would be here soon. Charles needed help; they could help…

Hank. She wanted Hank to be here now. She wanted him to hold her.

They were still there on the ground when the yard's doors opened and the rest of their group trickled in. Most of them gave the upsetting scene on the ground a wide berth, but Hank and Sean and Darwin found her—found Charles. They didn't know what to make of it.

"Damnit."

"Oh god, what…?"

"Man…"

Raven tried to stop crying. She tried. But her brother was unconscious and beaten and bleeding in her arms, and she couldn't take all of this anymore. "Help…" she managed. "Please, h-help…"

They were frozen, staring. Hank was starting to move but then someone pushed through them, only pausing for a moment to take everything in before hurrying to action. "You heard her!" a gruff voice barked. "Get supplies! Now!"

They turned and ran for the restrooms, and it took Raven a moment to realize that the man who had spoken was the mutant Charles had broken off from the rest of them to speak to yesterday. The one who had been in high security until now.

The man was crouched beside Charles now, fingers that were deft despite their size hovering over the whip lashes and cuts and bruises, touching only when needed and checking for broken bones.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Logan. Charles had said his name was Logan.

Raven opened her mouth, but the answer was trapped in her throat. "They—"

She didn't get any farther than that but Logan nodded anyway; he wasn't going to force her to say any more if she couldn't. He was scowling now. "Let me guess: the old bastard who thinks he owns the place?"

She nodded. "Stryker…"

The other mutant only shrugged. "Whoever the hell. He's bad news. Gathered that much even from isolation."

"You're Logan, right?"

"Yeah. Guess he told you." He paused in his checking over of Charles. "I don't think anything's broken."

Raven swallowed. "How do you know…?"

Logan shrugged again. "Been in a few wars. Patched up plenty of guys."

"A few wars?"

"I've been around a while…"

He didn't look it but now that she thought about it she remembered Charles mentioning something like that, when he'd told her last night about the encounter and what he'd gathered from the brief contact with the man's mind. Logan could heal quickly, so he wasn't aging.

The boys returned, arms loaded, and Hank set down what he had and lowered himself to the ground beside her, wrapping his arms around her from behind as Logan riffled through the supplies and Sean and Darwin offered help.

"It'll be all right. He'll be all right…" Hank told her. She kept one hand clutched to her brother's shoulder, but the other she brought up to squeeze Hank's hand. He squeezed back.

Logan seemed to know what he was doing, cleaning the wounds and bandaging them, and Raven swallowed hard.

"Thank you…"

The man who was, for all practical purposes, a stranger, glanced up only briefly before looking down at Charles again. "He's the only one here who bothered to say a word to me. Least I can do."

Shaw dragged him to an empty lounge that was off the beaten path at this time of day—back near the residential wing. Emma was close behind as Erik was shoved inside and pressed into a wall. Shaw's hands were around his upper arms now, pinning him to the wall and he couldn't move. Any energy of movement was absorbed and he wasn't going anywhere.

It didn't help that his head was still ringing from Emma's attacks.

"Any time now, Emma. I could easily hold him here all day, but I would much rather have this done."

She glowered for a moment. "Give me a minute. This is going to be complicated. I'm not even sure what the telepath did to keep me from seeing Erik's sympathies earlier."

What was going to be complicated? "What are you—?"

"Be quiet, Erik," Shaw snapped. And when Erik tried to protest he couldn't. Nothing came out of his mouth and when he looked at Frost she was smirking.

She was keeping him from speaking.

"And you're sure the telepath won't be able to stop you now?" Shaw was asking.

"He's still unconscious now. Even when he wakes up he won't be able to do much of anything for a few days."

"Good, good..."

Erik struggled futilely, panic building in his chest.

His memory. They were going to find out he had it and take it away from him again. They were going to take Charles and Raven and his powers—

A panicked noise escaped his throat, but no words, and he glared at Shaw venomously, trying to tell him that way just what he thought of him.

And then Emma was in his mind again, ripping at the shroud over the truth, finding the shields and tearing them apart, and it hurt and his eyes snapped shut.

"He has his memory. All of it. His powers…he knows everything," Frost said abruptly, almost impressed. "The telepath managed to hide it."

Shaw snorted quietly. "He's powerful. Or he could be if he weren't here. Anyhow, we'll have all of that fixed soon enough."

Erik wanted to scream, both because there was pain and he because he didn't want them to do this, but he couldn't scream and fighting was growing harder. In a moment Frost had put a stop to that too and he hung against the wall, immobile and helpless.

It wasn't a feeling he liked at all.

NO!

But she was digging deeper, shattering what remained of the shields, the shards digging into his mind from the inside and hurting and—and then she had access to everything.

Charles woke with a start, the panicked cry in his mind not so much a cry as a feeling—a sudden intense sense of the need for help.

It was Erik, but for a long moment he couldn't focus on it. When he'd woken he'd moved, and it hurt. It hurt rather horribly. Everything ached or stung or burned, and his breath hitched from the pain. His head was propped on someone's knees…Raven; he felt her. The hand on his shoulder was hers.

"Charles! Hey, take it easy. Be careful."

It hurt…he could hear himself gasping but he couldn't control it.

Charles!

Erik. In his mind. Erik panicked, which didn't happen often. He didn't let himself feel that way without good reason.

Shaw and Frost had him. They knew everything now. Frost was trying to take it all away. Trying to turn Erik into something he wasn't.

Charles! Help me!

It was hard enough not focusing on the pain. He didn't know if he could help. Erik knew that. But Erik trusted him. Trusted him implicitly. He could feel it. Erik trusted him at least to try. Did he deserve so much trust?

Charles's eyes clenched shut and the hand on his shoulder squeezed and Raven's other hand found one of his and squeezed it too. He was curling in on himself more, still gasping, and she whispered to him. She didn't know what was happening; she didn't know Erik was in danger.

"Shh, I know, I know, I'm sorry. I know it hurts. We're working on it…" she said, voice tight with emotion.

We? Who else? He could feel other hands skimming over him, seeing to the wounds, but he had no time to look and no energy to waste reaching out to the mind or minds that might have been behind them. Part of him still shivered from the flashbacks of earlier, but Raven was here, so he was safe…

CHARLES!

Erik's scream was louder but more distant this time, slipping away…

Charles reached out and snagged him, holding him from the edge that Frost was pushing him to—the edge of the abyss in which she planned to hide the Erik that was now, to leave room for what she and Shaw wanted.

Erik felt him, and Charles felt the relief tempering the alarm. Frost still pulled, but Charles held on as fast as he could.

Don't let go! Erik pleaded. He didn't want to be who he'd been. He didn't want to be something worse. He didn't want to lose anything he'd gained here.

Never. But it hurt. He was slipping. Charles was weak and he didn't know how long he could do this. He fought back, trying to push Frost away but it didn't work at all. He couldn't. Not now. Tears welled in his eyes and he sobbed because he knew he couldn't hold on no matter how much he wanted to. Oh god he couldn't lose this fight. They couldn't lose Erik. He couldn't…

Charles?

I'm going to lose it! I can't keep this up! I don't have the strength anymore!

Don't let her do this!

I don't want to!

Erik was slipping away again.

Charles…!

Charles sobbed aloud again, nearly crushing Raven's fingers in his grip. "No! Erik no….no no no no nooo…" I'm trying!

Above him voices, worried and confused, but he didn't have the time to make them out right now.

Frost saw him.

Let him go!

Sorry, sugar. But we have plans for Erik here. And you're just in the way.

She pried free what was left of his grasp as if it were nothing, and Erik was gone.

Charles screamed, panicked and wordless and in pain, and it took her and Logan both to keep him still, and Sean and Darwin were helping too. Hank moved out from behind her to help. He jerked in their grasp, screaming and sobbing and they didn't know why.

"Charles! It's okay! Please!" Raven shouted, begged.

"Who the hell is Erik?" Logan questioned.

"Long story," she answered shortly.

"Raven, he's too badly injured already; he's going to hurt himself further," Hank put in worriedly.

Logan scowled deeply. "We can knock him out again if we have to."

"No!"

She'd had enough of that. She didn't want that to happen again.

"I said nothing was broken, exactly, but he's probably got cracked ribs and if he keeps movin' like this he could make it worse or break 'em!"

But in a moment Charles went limp in her arms, inexplicably, still shuddering with quiet sobs but no longer screaming or twisting. Raven swiped gently at the tears on his face, swallowing hard. Somehow she knew that something else was wrong. He'd said Erik's name at one point, and that couldn't be good. Not after everything that had happened in the last few days. Not with Shaw and Frost here.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously. "Charles, what's wrong?"

She didn't know if he was really listening. His eyes were focused on nothing, in the distance, seeing but not registering, and her blood seemed to freeze in her veins when he spoke. "We've lost Erik," he cried quietly. "We've lost Erik, we've lost Erik…"

With Erik unconscious now, in a heap on a sorry excuse for a couch as the changes set in, Shaw nodded in satisfaction.

"Well. Perhaps that didn't go as smoothly as we'd hoped, but it's done. How is our telepath friend?"

Emma shrugged. "Upset. Devastated, really. No telepathic strength left to speak of at the moment, either. It won't take much more."

Shaw smiled. "If it's that close we might as well finish the job. Pay him a visit and see that it's done."

"Gladly."

The bell rang sometime later, telling them it was time to leave the yard, and Logan and the boys were only just now really done with the dressings. There were so many whip marks this this time, so many other smaller cuts and abrasions…

When the bell went off Hank and Darwin moved as if to pull Charles up between them to help him back to the cells, but Logan stopped them.

"I've got it." And he motioned them all out of the way and picked Charles up, gently, out of Raven's lap. Hank helped her to her feet. She exchanged a glance of thanks with this man she had just met, and it was all he would accept.

"Let's go," Logan said quickly.

Charles was still awake, and he groaned at the movement, but Raven could tell that Logan was being as careful as he could. He brought him back to the cells, and the guards allowed him inside theirs long enough to put Charles down. Then he was ushered away, but he looked back.

"Take care of him," was all he said, before he was out of sight.

When the door closed Raven swallowed and went to her brother's side again, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his hand. "Charles?" He was still awake, if barely, and his eyes blinked open and he looked at her blearily.

"They took him," he managed. "They th-they took Erik." He shuddered as he said it, and she could see the pain flickering across his face.

"Took him where? What happened?"

"No, they…they took…him. He…they hid everything again…took it…it isn't…isn't Erik anymore. Oh god, it isn't Erik…" He was babbling, looking at her and focusing a bit more than before but still not quite here.

But she knew what he meant.

"Oh god."

"I can't fix it," Charles sobbed quietly. "I can't do it…again. I'm too…too weak. I can't…he's gone…"

"Don't say that. You'll get stronger. This isn't the end. You—"

"Stryker won't let me…you know that. Shaw will make sure of it. Frost…they'll make sure I can never help him."

"Why would they do that now when they could have done it to begin with, but they didn't?"

His eyes closed again and he was already on his side but he curled in on himself now, pressing his forehead into his knees. "To break me. Us. No opposition. Felt it in Frost when she pushed me away. That's what they want…us out of the way. Me. Doesn't matter now. We can't get out."

It felt like a knife in her chest, hearing him talk that way. Hearing that Erik was gone. All of it. "No…w-we'll find a way to help Erik. Or we'll find another way out of here," she said desperately.

The door slammed open again. Raven jumped to her feet, not knowing what to expect but ready to protect her brother. But then she was frozen, and after that she was falling. She hit the ground with no free will to break the fall, and by the time the room stopped spinning a thin form in white was bent over Charles's bunk. Frost. It had to be. Raven wanted to move and she screamed inwardly but nothing happened.

Charles…?

But there was only a sense of fear and pain and regret, and then nothing. There was no answer.

He tried to fight her. He did. But he couldn't. Charles had nothing left physically, mentally…and when Frost bent over him, pushed him onto his back and pinned his forearms to the mattress he could hardly even cry out anymore. His back screamed, everything screamed, but nothing came out of his mouth. Frost was keeping him from making a sound, and still keeping Raven immobile, he assumed, or she would have been up by now. He heard his sister call his name once, in his mind, but he couldn't even answer.

Frost pushed into his mind, smirking, and he had no defenses.

You couldn't save your friend. Erik is ours now.

You can't do this. You can't take away WHO HE IS…

I already did, sweetheart. And not for the first time. It's over.

No…no, I won't let you—! He cut off,mouth open in a silent scream when she hurt him, raking at his mind with something akin to sharp fingernails. It was easy for her now. He couldn't stop it. Any last bit of energy he'd used trying to save Erik, and he hadn't been able to do even that.

By the time she stopped Charles was trembling and sweating, breath coming harshly and that hurt too because his stomach hurt, his ribs hurt…

You don't have to LET me do anything. We can do what we want. And you're not getting in the way when we do it.

He saw all of it. The plan. Why they'd stayed away from the other prisoners. No one else here knew who they were, really. No one would remember them if they'd caught a glimpse of them on the balcony. Shaw had arranged this to turn the mutants against the humans. Eventually he would free them all himself. They would follow him. They would rule.

No!

She ripped into him again and this time when she stopped his face was wet and he couldn't see straight, much less think. It was nothing for her to push everything on him at once—the pain and the guilt and the anger and everything that had been done to him and everything he couldn't take back and everything he couldn't change. She shoved him back with it, shoved him into a cage she'd built of it in the back of his mind and she locked it.

Now be a good boy and stay there, Frost chuckled.

Charles beat on the bars that weren't really bars but when he pounded them he felt what they were, the memories and pain and they overwhelmed him, and he could do nothing but crumple back, curl up inside and away from them.

Raven couldn't move until Frost was long gone, and by then Charles was silent. Far too silent. As soon as she could move she shot to her feet, her first panicked thought being that Frost had killed him and she couldn't breathe.

"Charles—!"

She stood up too quickly. The dizziness dropped her and she was on the edge of the bed again, braced over he brother, and when she'd pushed past the dizziness and opened her eyes for one horrible moment she thought she'd been right.

Charles looked dead. He was still, silent, eyes open and really staring at nothing now. Blank. But his chest was moving, up and down in a slow rhythm that was only a bit unsteady, and there was a quiet rattle there.

"Charles?" she breathed. When there was no answer, even when she called out mentally, she shook him. It should have hurt but he didn't even wince. "Charles! Oh god…Charles? CHARLES!"

Still no answer.

He was alive, but he wasn't there.

Chapter Text

Erik didn't return, and Charles didn't wake up, and Raven didn't know what to do. Her brother was completely unresponsive, not even reacting when she changed the dressings on the wounds. It should have hurt him, as badly as he was injured, but he didn't make a sound, he wouldn't look at her…nothing. If she fed him he would eat, mechanically, and if she pulled him up and carefully and guided him to the toilet he would use it, but he wasn't really responding. He blinked occasionally, but it seemed it was only to keep his eyes from drying out. It was like programming.

There was nothing in his eyes.

For the first few days the guards seemed to understand, at least, that after what had happened Charles was too badly injured to walk far enough to leave the cell even if he wasn't reacting to pain at the moment. Their food was brought to them and for days Raven was alone, taking care of her brother because there was nothing else she could do. She pulled her mattress to the floor the first night and left it there, sleeping where she could keep an eye on him.

But there was never any change. During the day Raven sat with him, talking to him, wondering if he could hear her. She held his head in her lap and stroked his hair back and ran her fingers through it, hoping that maybe it might help bring him back the way she hoped talking to him might and because the top of his head was probably the only thing that didn't hurt. She was worried over whether he could still feel pain even if he couldn't react to it.

After a few days, though, there was no more coddling. When the doors opened for the afternoon meal the sixth day the guards stepped in and forced her out, making her pull Charles to his feet and bring him with her. It seemed there would be no more tolerance of the upset of the usual order of things. Raven protested, but they were having none of it, and Charles, of course, was in no position to prove that it probably wasn't the best idea for him to be on his feet yet.

Not that Raven really knew herself. He couldn't tell her how much he still was or wasn't hurting, and even if Logan had been right and nothing was really broken that didn't mean there weren't cracked ribs. If there were—even if there weren't—if Charles was still feeling everything simply dragging him to the cafeteria could hurt him quite a lot.

She worded it differently, tried to tell them he wasn't recovered enough because she knew they wouldn't care if he was in pain, but they refused her appeal and pushed both of them out the door anyway.

Charles's breath hitched at the shove. She looked at him quickly as she steadied them and helped him carefully down the corridor, because it was the first real indication she'd seen in days that he was still in there somewhere.

It also told her that he really was in pain, and her throat clogged.

"Hang on," she whispered. It was all she could think to say.

"Raven!" It was Hank. He caught up to them and gently took Charles's other arm to help. "Thank god; we haven't seen either of you in days. Charles, how are—" He cut off when he saw the blank look on Charles's face, and he looked up at Raven in alarm. "What's wrong with him?"

"Frost did something to him, right after what happened…he's been like that ever since. I can't bring him out of it," she swallowed. "I don't know…"

When they made it to the cafeteria they found Sean and Darwin there, and Logan was there too.

"He's stayed with us," Hank said quietly, before they were close enough for anyone to hear. "God knows why. Charles must have really gotten to him the first time they talked."

If it was going to be anyone, it would have been Charles. Raven nodded in understanding as Logan got up from the table to help her and Hank lower Charles to the bench. There was no sound from him, of curse, but his skin was covered in a fine layer of sweat now and when they let him go he didn't sit quite straight, but hunched over. Raven sat close beside him for support.

She had to explain again, though she really didn't want to.

"And nothing's made any difference?" Logan asked.

"Nothing…god, I don't even know exactly what she did…" Raven trailed off uncertainly and looped an arm through her brother's, squeezing just a little but not enough to hurt him, she hoped. She hoped he knew, at least, that she was there.

Sean spoke up tentatively. "Raven, uh…before Frost…did Charles say anything else? What did he mean about Erik?"

"Have you seen him?" she asked automatically.

Sean shifted uncomfortably. "Sort of…yeah. But…I think something's wrong with him. He doesn't seem like…him. We see him up on the balcony sometimes, or stalking around in the corridors every now and then, but that's about it. He doesn't look at us, or anything. It's like he doesn't care anymore."

Raven swallowed. "He doesn't. Not consciously. Not right now. Frost screwed with his memory again. He doesn't know us."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Darwin questioned. "Damn."

Logan wasn't asking questions, so she assumed they'd filled him in on what they knew of Erik, and what had happened in the past few months.

"Well we have to do something," Hank cut in.

"Like what? We can't give him his memory back," Raven answered darkly. "What are we supposed to do? Even if Charles comes out of this I don't know if he could help him now. Not unless he has a chance to get stronger again."

"Do we really need him?" Darwin asked. "What was the plan anyway? I know you've been trying to protect us and all, and I respect that, but what is it? Is there a way we can pull it off without him? Get out of here and figure the rest out later?"

Raven grimaced. "No…it won't work without Erik. The plan IS Erik. We needed his powers." She hesitated before she went on. "If we don't get him back we're stuck here."

They were all quiet for a long time after that.

"You're serious?" Sean asked quietly. "All this time and everything's down the drain?"

"I don't know! I don't know…" Raven shook her head, blinking back tears. "I don't know." Hank held her closer, but she kept hold of Charles's arm, and she thought she felt it twitch under her hand.

"You seem to be doing just fine here, Erik. Just keep up the good work. Don't let Agent Stryker get out of hand, yes?"

"Of course," Erik deadpanned. He was angry enough, being left here. If they were going to go they needed to just do it. They'd been here for days on end, and it was more than enough to bother him greatly. Maybe he was indebted to Shaw, but that didn't mean he always liked the man's plans.

"You'll be out of here soon enough—as soon as we're certain the situation has stabilized. But at the moment I still don't quite trust Agent Stryker. I may need to return."

Erik only grunted in response. He wasn't entirely clear on what the problem was; all he'd gathered was that Stryker had taken things a little too far in trying to make the telepath more submissive. He'd nearly died, and while keeping him under control was important they needed him alive.

To be honest, Erik wasn't clear on much. It seemed he never was. It was probably a large part of what affected his irritability level so negatively, but whatever the hell.

"Take care of yourself, Erik," Shaw smiled.

And why did that smile suddenly send a shiver down his spine?

Emma raised an eyebrow at Shaw once they were in the car, leaving the facility. "Well? Did I do a sufficient job?"

If he noticed the sarcasm he said nothing. "Just fine, Emma. Just fine. I think he'll serve our purposes much better for now."

Altering Erik's memories again had been easy enough, considering the number of times she'd done it. Pulling all of his anger and aggression and pain to the forefront had been even easier. Leaving them there while obscuring the real reasons for them had been harder, but she'd pulled it off, of course.

"If the telepath ever comes out of it the change in Erik will break his spirits again quickly enough."

"Precisely," Shaw nodded. "And I wasn't entirely honest with Erik, of course. We'll be leaving him there until we're ready to put our plan into action, so we know exactly how things are going."

Charles knew what was happening around him, at least part of the time. He could see everything, hear everything, but it was all from a distance—and that was when he was aware at all. When he was aware enough it hurt, and it wasn't only the cage of everything he didn't want to remember. It was the physical pain, too, and thank god that was felt somewhat from a distance, too. He knew how badly he'd been hurt, and he knew it would be worse if he were awake.

But he wasn't awake. He was trapped behind these bars of everything that had gone wrong and if he came too close, if he touched them…it overwhelmed him. Frost had designed it that way. Any attempt to push through, to wake up again, led only to pain and regret and fear and he couldn't rid himself of them. Sometimes it was easer to curl up inside and pretend the world outside didn't exist. When he ignored it he couldn't see it, or hear it…

But then Raven would say something. Or she would cry. Sometimes she cried. She wanted him back, and he wanted to go to her, but it was too hard. Getting out was too hard. He couldn't do it. And what did it matter anyway? They were trapped here. They weren't going anywhere. Not without Erik.

Oh god, Erik…

Yes, sometimes it was much easier to stay inside. Inside was dark and safe and warm, inside and away from the bars.

But tonight Raven was crying. Tonight he could hear her begging him to return to her and that hurt, too. He wanted to, and he tried, but there was too much pain. It frustrated him to no end, that he couldn't do it. Why couldn't he do it? Was he really that weak?

Her hand was at his head again, cradling it in her lap. "Charles, please…we need you. I need you. I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but please come back…"

Do you? He wondered. Did she know how much it hurt? Feeling as if he'd failed his best friend? Feeling as if he'd failed everyone?

"I love you, Charles. Please come back…"

God, he wanted to go back. She was his sister; he loved her. He wanted to go back to her, but how? Every time he tried he failed. Why? Why couldn't he just—

"Charles?"

He didn't feel the tear on his cheek until just before Raven's thumb gently dabbed it away. It took him another moment to realize that it had come from his own eye—it wasn't one of hers that had dropped there.

"Charles, are you there?" Her voice cracked.

I'm here!

"Charles….?"

I'M HERE!

He screamed it, but she didn't hear him. She cried harder, instead.

Raven saw Erik herself the next day. He was on the balcony, with Stryker, only for a few moments.

He saw them. He saw everything, but he wasn't really looking at them. He didn't really see them, because he didn't want to. He didn't care.

It wasn't Erik. It was some awful, cold caricature of him, and she could tell it even from the ground. Everything that had made Erik the almost-brother she'd come to care about was buried, and she didn't need to see him closer to know it. He stood differently, the look on his face was stony…

It wasn't Erik.

"God, Charles, what are we supposed to do?" she whispered. He sat beside her at one of the few tables in the yard, staring blankly the way he had been since Frost attacked him. He didn't answer her, of course.

But this time she felt something. Or she thought she did. There was something…something there, just at the edge of her mind. Some sort of push, a buzzing, a background noise like Charles was trying to reach her and he couldn't quite push through.

Charles?

She reached for his hand and squeezed it, and for a moment the feeling there in her mind pushed harder. Charles's hand spasmed in hers, and Raven pulled in a startled breath.

But then the buzzing was gone, and Charles was still again.

Damnit, no. Come on, Charles, you can do it…

But nothing else happened.

Charles? Charles, can you hear me? I can feel you; can you hear me? Charles…!

Charles was startled to sudden awareness by the small voice in his mind. The awareness was no more than he'd had—he was still trapped—but someone was speaking to him.

He could only think of one person besides Frost who might be able to speak to him now.

Jean?

It's me! I'm…I must be close. We're all in big vans again. We've been moving a long time. We must be close. I couldn't feel you and then I could…

Some of the field teams were coming back. They were bringing a new group of mutants to the facility. Charles felt the familiar pang of regret at that, amplified this time by knowing that Jean was among them. It was even worse knowing that he might not be able to get her out of here again once she arrived. With Erik for all practical purposes gone…

He pushed that pain away before he drowned in it.

Jean! Oh Jean…

What's wrong? She asked suddenly. And then she was there, on the other side of the bars, looking at him with round eyes.

"What…what happened? You're sad…and you're all locked up and…"

Charles stood slowly in the blackness. All he could see in here were the bars, and now Jean. "It's difficult to explain."

"Well…you have to get out."

"I can't. I've tried."

"But you have to get out! You can't stay in here; you have to be out there when I get there. I don't want to be alone…"

"You won't be alone. As much as I wish none of you were here at all there are other children here, and—"

"But I want you to be there!" She surged forward, reaching for the bars. "Can I help—?"

"Jean, don't touch those!" Charles shouted urgently. She stopped abruptly, surprised by the panic in his tone. But she couldn't touch the bars. If she touched them she would know what they were. She would see it—everything that had happened. And they were things that a four-year-old girl most certainly should not know.

"Charles…?" the girl asked, frightened now.

He swallowed. "I'm sorry…but you can't help me, Jean. And I'm afraid I can't help you anymore. Not from in here."

"Then get out. I know you can do it."

He shook his head sadly. "I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry; I want to be. I want to be there for you, but I don't know how."

Jean looked at him for a long time, just looked at him, and there were tears in her eyes even though it was all an illusion anyway—the image of her that he was actually seeing right now. A projection.

"You think it's your fault. You don't think you're…good, or something. You think you should be stuck in here."

"What?"

"You can't think that! I don't know what happened or why you're so sad, but you're good! You can't stay here! And…and…" He felt her looking at the surface—what he'd seen himself the last few days. What was easy to access. "And your sister thinks so too. She's sad too. You have to go back."

"Jean, I want to go back. But I can't—"

His voice broke.

Did he? Did he want to go back to that world? Where everything was wrong and there was no hope anymore? Maybe she was right. Maybe he really thought, somewhere inside, that he should stay here.

"You can," Jean said quietly. "Just let me help you. Please…" She reached forward again, and Charles jerked forward and opened his mouth to shout again, to panic, wanting to stop her. His fingers plunged into the bars and he jumped back as if electrocuted. Everything hit him all over again—Erik screaming for help and Charles unable to do anything, being unable to keep Jean from being found, all of it.

He was crying when the blinding rush of memories faded again, and it took him a long moment to see that Jean's small hand had fit between the bars easily. She hadn't touched them, but she was reaching out to him now, through them.

There were tears on her cheeks now, too.

"Please," she cried. "Please let me help. I don't know how I can help; I just know I can. I-I think I can get you out. I just feel it…"

"Jean," Charles gasped. "I—"

He didn't want to be crying in front of the girl. He wanted to be strong. At least for her. But all of it was his fault, and—

"It's not your fault! I don't think anybody else thinks anything is your fault or anything, and I don't! They want you to come back, and I do too! I don't wanna be able to talk to you just in here! You need to come out! You're dumb if you don't come out!"

She'd pulled her hand back, and she actually stomped her foot and crossed her arms. It was the closest thing to a childish fit he had ever seen from her. It made him remember how young she really was.

And it made him listen.

Charles swallowed hard, and Jean reached through the bars again and just looked at him.

Raven's voice echoed in the back of his mind. Charles, please…we need you. I need you. I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but please come back…

It would be so easy to stay here. To ignore Jean. She would leave and he never had to pay any attention to the world outside again. He didn't have to look if he didn't want to. He didn't have to be aware. He could stay away forever, stay in here, stay safe, but what was safety when it was a prison?

What was safety when Raven needed him? When Jean needed him?

Charles nodded slowly, blinking back the rest of his tears, and he took her hand.

It hit him like lightning, almost. Without the pain from the miscalibrated Cerebro to distract him, to dull everything, Jean's raw power was a heady rush that nearly sent him spinning and he had to gather quite a lot of control very quickly to keep the sharing of it from negatively affecting either of them.

"Charles?"

He couldn't answer just yet. The bars were thinning around him, and he realized that Jean had been right.

With her help he could get out of here.

Jean realized it too.

"Come on!" she said, grinning suddenly.

She tugged, and Charles moved, bracing himself and pushing through what was left of the bars. It hurt, but not as much as before. He clenched his eyes shut against the tears and forced his way through, stumbling away and looking back to see the cage crumbling behind him.

Jean's triumphant voice, now. "See? I told you."

Had that really just happened?

"Thank you," Charles breathed.

But when he looked back to find her she was gone, and her hand was gone from his.

I'll see you soon, Jean thought to him.

And then he was waking up.

Raven was half asleep against the headboard of Charles's bunk when she felt him jerk suddenly, then pull in a sharp breath and start to cough, and when she straightened quickly and looked down at him his eyes were clenched shut.

"Charles! Charles?"

"I'm…I'm here," he managed. His voice was raspy, but it was there, and Raven throat clogged much more quickly than she really wanted it to.

"Thank god, I—god, are you okay? Charles?"

Head still in her lap, he shuddered a bit as he moaned and struggled to bring his breathing under control. "Sorry, just…it hit me all at once…"

"You weren't feeling it before?" she asked, hoping she'd been wrong.

"Well…I was, but…not as directly, I suppose…ah…"

Oh. Raven held onto him. "Easy…just take it easy and it shouldn't be so bad. It's been a week already."

Charles nodded wordlessly in understanding and didn't say anything else at first. His jaw clenched and he clamped an arm around his chest, instead, while waiting until he'd calmed more and talking seemed easier. Finally his breaths were more even, but she didn't like the beads of sweat on his forehead.

"All right…it's all right," he said then. "You're right; it isn't as awful as I'm sure it was days ago."

"If you're just saying that I'll kick your ass all over again," Raven said quietly. Her throat was still tight, and she cleared it self-consciously. "Charles, I—what happened? I was so afraid you—" But she couldn't finish that sentence.

Part of her had been afraid that he would never come back.

For a moment she couldn't look down at him, but she felt Charles reach up to squeeze her hand where it rested against his arm.

"I know. I'm so sorry; I should have been able to get out of there sooner."

"Out of where? What did Frost do?"

She did look at him now, and he shook his head slowly. "It's too difficult to explain. I was…trapped. Inside. Beyond that I don't know what to tell you."

Raven swallowed. "But you got out. That proves you're still more powerful than she is, doesn't it?"

He winced. "In essence, I am, but...god, I hate it, but I'm still so weak I don't know if I would have gotten out at all without help."

She blinked in confusion. "Help? How did you get help? Who helped you?"

He told her. He told her about Jean, and how he'd met the girl through Cerebro and that she would be here and that she'd helped him. Charles's face light up when he talked about Jean, but Raven could see the guilt there, too—that this girl was going to be stuck here as well.

"It's not your fault…"

"I know," he said quickly, and sighed. "You tell me that often enough, but I think you also know that my heart hasn't quite caught up to my head on that bit of information. It may never."

Raven let out a breath and bent down to kiss his forehead. "You wouldn't be you if it did, I guess. And I love the you you are."

Charles smiled weakly, but he didn't answer. Instead he started to move as if to sit up. "Would you mind…?"

She quickly moved to support him. "Are you sure you—?"

"I told you, it merely startled me before. I can get up, at the least. It isn't as bad as all that, though…"

He grunted as she helped him sit up, and she raised an eyebrow. "Bad enough."

"I will live." Charles let out a heavy breath once she had him up and settled against the wall. "Thank you."

"You're sure you're all right?" He only nodded in answer, and his face didn't look so good but she knew better than to ask again. "Fine…" She sat beside him anyway, whether he wanted that right now or not, because she was still his sister and she'd still been worried sick for days. "I missed you," she whispered, suddenly fighting tears again.

"I've missed you, too."

Charles wrapped an arm around her—only loosely, because anything more would have hurt, and she understood that—and that was all it took. Her brother was back, he was here, and there was no scene, all was silent, but the fight against the tears was lost.

They didn't talk about Erik. Charles couldn't bring himself to bring it up yet, and Raven kindly didn't either. The situation would have to be dealt with—if it could be—but it didn't have to be today. He'd only just been freed, and he didn't particularly want to do anything at all right now other than sit here with his sister and assure himself that it was all real.

He certainly didn't want to remember the things that would ruin it all in an instant. But the pain was still there, in the back of his mind and in the base of his chest, ready to pounce at any moment. What kept him from succumbing to it was Jean. Thinking of her, anyhow. She would be here soon, and he couldn't let himself fall apart now. That wouldn't do him any good in trying to think of a way to get Erik back, either.

Time came for the evening meal and Raven still helped him from the cell, but he could cooperate with her much more easily now, of course. And soon enough Hank and Logan were there, taking his weight from her, and poor Hank nearly had a heart attack when Charles smiled tiredly and thanked them.

"Charles! Oh my god, you scared the hell out of—oh my god. Charles?"

"Nice to have you back, Charlie," Logan grinned, smirking at Hank's reaction.

Charles forced away the grimace caused by Hank's sudden movement. "I'm glad to be back."

Hank glared at Logan before looking back and forth between Charles and Raven. "What happened? How did you…?"

Raven sighed. "It's a long story."

It actually hurt more with Hank and Logan on either side and each having an arm, and Charles politely nudged Hank to move off and walk with Raven and let Logan help him. He didn't need as much support anymore as they likely thought, anyhow. After being on his feet a bit now he suspected he could walk on his own if he wanted to. It would just hurt.

"By the way, never do that again," Logan commented after a moment.

Charles let out a breath that might have been a laugh. "I will see what I can do." Logan raised an eyebrow at him, all but an encouragement, and Charles quickly picked up enough from the surface to know that he was quite serious. "I don't plan to," he amended. That seemed to satisfy the other mutant much better, and he nodded.

Thank you for being there for Raven and for my friends, when I couldn't be, Charles told him silently. It means quite a lot.

Logan looked away and shrugged inwardly. You'd've done the same.

That doesn't mean that you had to.

A pause. Yeah. I did.

It happened during dinner. Charles had felt them coming closer since he woke, but the newest group of mutants arrived during dinner. The field teams that had located them returned with them, of course, but Charles chose not to think about what that meant. What he thought about was the fact that Jean was here.

He thought he would have to wait until morning. He thought it would take them that long to get the new prisoners settled, but then the doors on the other end of the cafeteria opened. The ones near the children's tables. It was only children that were brought in, and he supposed that someone, at least, had a bit more sense than most of the humans here. Someone wanted to be sure that the children, at least, ate tonight.

Charles didn't realize that his eyes were damp until Raven nudged him gently. "How many this time?" she asked gently.

He hadn't counted. He'd been focused on the one mind entering with them that he knew more closely than the others. He only shook his head sadly.

No matter how many, it was too many.

Charles!

He pulled in a breath at the voice in his mind.

"I uhm…" He started to stand, pushing himself up using the table. "I'll be right back."

If he could get there.

"Be right back? You're not going anywhere, Charles; sit down," Raven countered. She meant well.

Charles, are you in here? I feel you somewhere close…

"She's here," Charles said shortly. "She's calling me."

Raven blinked once, and then seemed to understand who he meant and started to stand. "Let me help you—"

"What?" Logan questioned. "What's going on?"

The boys were looking at him strangely, too. "I'll explain later," Charles apologized. He glanced at Raven then, and shook his head a bit. "It's all right; I can make it."

She looked back skeptically. "Maybe, but—"

He stepped away from the table, an arm gingerly about his chest. "I can. I need to do this," he said urgently. Raven let him go. She stopped the others when they started to get up to go after him, and he was thankful for that. He would much rather be moving under his own power when he found Jean.

It wasn't easy going, but with the edges of the tables in strict rows as they were there was support when he needed it. He didn't need any direction. He knew where the children sat and that while he could visit them, they weren't allowed outside of the section marked off for them. They were easier to keep up with that way, he supposed, though he didn't precisely like the connotations.

When he was close enough Charles saw the mop of red hair before he saw the rest of her, and before she saw him.

Charles! Where are—?

He swallowed, and came to the edge of the children's section and braced himself against the end of the first table there. Behind you.

The girl turned quickly, eyes widening, and her flaming hair clashed awfully with the brown jumpsuit but it didn't matter. It was Jean. She ran, and Charles gulped back a lump in his throat and lowered himself carefully to his knees before she got there, so they were at eye level when she ran into him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Charles!" she cried.

It hurt, when she did that, when she ran into him, but he said nothing. She hadn't run far or fast and the impact wasn't as awful as it could have been. And the last thing he wanted was to burden her or upset her.

"Jean!" He covered his gasp with her name, returning the embrace willingly.

"You're here! We got you out…"

He had to swallow back a sob. "I wish I could say that I'm glad to see you."

"You're not?" she asked, giggling a bit into his shoulder. She started to pull away but he held her where she was for a moment, until he could blink the tears away.

Charles let out a careful breath. "You know what I mean. You shouldn't be here." He sat back on his heels then, and looked at her, and tried to smile because he knew she needed that after what she'd been through. "You're even prettier in person," he told her.

The girl giggled again, but it stopped too soon and she was looking at him quietly.

"What is it?"

She reached out to his face, tracing the dark circles that had been under his eyes for months and what must have been what was left of the bruises from last week. Suddenly she looked so sad for someone so small, and it broke his heart.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know I'm probably not quite what you expected." When she'd "seen" him, per se, in the link between their minds the first time, she'd seen him the way he'd been before this place existed. Even this time, just earlier today, he didn't think the injures, at least, had translated. He didn't really remember those small details. Maybe none of it had.

Either way, she'd never seen him quite as he was. As he was now, anyway.

Jean shook her head. "It's okay. Doesn't matter what we look like, right?"

Charles smiled a bit. "Did your parents teach you that?"

"Grandma. She takes me to church sometimes, too."

"That's good of her." Jean's fingers still traced across his face gently, and Charles sighed. "Jean…"

"What happened? Why are you hurt?" she asked, voice tightening.

"It doesn't matter. I'll be all right—"

"Does matter! You're still so sad…bad stuff happened but it's all hidden and you won't let me know why."

Bad stuff. It sounded so simple when she put it that way, and she couldn't understand how much it wasn't that simple.

"Yes, a lot of things have happened, Jean. But you wouldn't understand. You're too young, I'm afraid. You may not like to hear that, but I'm keeping the rest of what's happened from you because it's better for you that way. Can you trust me in that?"

Jean looked at him for a long time, until finally she nodded and leaned forward to hug him again, gently this time. "Okay…but you gotta trust me too," she said quietly.

"About what?"

When she pulled back again she took his face between her small hands, and the gesture seemed so much like Raven that Charles almost laughed fondly.

"It's gonna be okay," Jean said then. "It is. You'll be okay. Okay?" And she was as serious as a four-year-old could be.

Charles blinked at her, because it seemed almost as if that assurance had come from somewhere else—from somewhere that knew. "I uhm…"

Jean came close and hugged him once more. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

He wanted her to be right. God, after everything…he wanted her to be right. He wanted to be able to move without hurting, he wanted to stop worrying if his vision would ever be as pristine as it used to be, he wanted to go a day without fresh guilt eating at him every time he looked at those here with him, and…and he wanted to trust people again. But after what had happened in the yard that night that last seemed impossible.

Though that, of course, was the last thing he would ever let Jean find out about.

Still, he hoped she was right.

Charles wanted to answer, but he couldn't. His throat had clogged too thoroughly. He just held onto Jean, he blinked tears away again, and he hoped.

Erik didn't know why he ended up where he did when he did, caught in the corridor when the buzzer went off and the current group of mutants in the prisoner cafeteria began to stream out guided by the guards. His way was blocked, and it annoyed him though at the same time a small part of him whispered that he needed to be standing here, for some reason or another.

Things like that seemed to happen a lot. Or he thought so. Again, he wasn't sure, and the obscurity of his memory was frustrating. He remembered Shaw telling him that it was all side effects of what had happened to him in the camps as an adolescent, though of course he couldn't remember much of that, either.

He crossed his arms and waited; it wasn't as if he had much else to do—his sole orders were to keep an eye on Stryker, really, and the situation with the telepath. But waiting wasn't something he enjoyed, and Erik was irritated enough when one of the prisoners stopped short just outside the door and stared at him. Two or three others ran into the mutant, grumbled, and went around, and after that the others went around him as well—him and the blue-skinned girl that had stopped with him. She was tugging on his sleeve, but he wasn't moving.

It took a moment, but Erik realized it was the telepath. It was the first time he'd seen him up close, and he hadn't recognized the mutant right away. The girl would be the sister, then. She glanced at him too, but she didn't stare, though it seemed as if maybe she wanted to. She glanced at him more than once.

The telepath was still recovering from injuries, if Erik remembered correctly. He held himself gingerly, and one of the girl's arms was at his back as if to be certain he didn't fall. But why was he staring? He wasn't being discreet about it, either. And his face…there was pain there. Not the physical pain he must be in, but something else. Why...?

And then the mutant was looking him in the eyes, and Erik felt a gentle presence prickling at the edges of his mind.

Erik…?

Erik shook it off quickly, scowling, suddenly angry. Get OUT of my head. The mutant was a prisoner here; shouldn't he show more respect? But apparently that was the problem with this one, if everything he'd heard was true.

The telepath swallowed and looked away abruptly, and let the blue-skinned girl with the orange hair lead him away with the others, blending back into the small crowd heading back to the cells but not quite blending at all. It was slow going for them; the telepath was bent over a bit, an arm around his chest, and he limped a little, and the girl, the sister, stayed with him. Part of Erik wanted to feel sorry for them, and the fact that he didn't know where the feeling came from or why it was suddenly so strong angered him more.

Confusion had been a part of his life for so long that he couldn't help but feel only anger at it now.

Still scowling, Erik watched them go until they were out of sight.

Chapter Text

The look on Charles's face as they left Erik behind was expected, but Raven kept him close anyway, hoping to help at least a little.

"What did you get from him?" she asked, once they were in their cell and alone.

Charles shook his head, expression still crumpled.

"Frost did a much better job this time. He's much more different from himself than when we met him. God, he's so…angry. Everything I was always concerned about…all of it is on the surface now. Erik is in there somewhere, but that is not Erik. It's…an aimless, angry, poor excuse for a copy." He let out a breath, leaning heavily on the headboard of his bunk as he sat on the edge, and he looked awful.

Raven swallowed. "Is there any way you can get through to him? Maybe you can't fix what she did yourself, but if you can get through to him…I mean, last time he knew, at least, that something was up…"

Charles shrugged. "That part of him is still there, and he feels it, but Frost has altered his personality. He's reacting to it differently. Rather than simply wanting to know what it is that he feels, he is only confused and angry. He knows nothing else. That and loyalty to Shaw, even if that is still a bit grudging, as it was before."

"That doesn't mean you can't get through—"

"But it does mean that it is much less likely, especially if I want to do it and I want it to do any good. And even if I could get him to listen, what then? I…I can't retrieve his memories for him."

She went to sit beside him. "Once you're stronger, you can."

Charles groaned and let his head thunk back against the wall. "Raven, we've been over this. I highly doubt that Stryker will ever allow that now." He blinked, more than once, and she realized he was blinking back tears. "We had our chance. Chances. We didn't take any of them, and it was all because I was far too cautious. Now we may never have another opportunity."

"We will," Raven said firmly, reaching for his hand and gripping it reassuringly. "And it isn't your fault. You've been doing the right thing, being careful about this. We can't do it at the wrong time, or it will all have been for nothing. I know you don't want that, and neither do I. We have to do this right. We have a responsibility to everyone in here, and you're only being mindful of that."

He wouldn't look at her. "That doesn't change the fact that if we can't get Erik back it will all have been for nothing anyhow."

"We'll get him back."

"How!" He looked at her sharply at that, and he must have moved too quickly. He whimpered in pain and sank farther back against the wall.

She didn't say anything about that part, knowing he would rather she didn't, and just waited until he was quiet again. It was hard to do that—to not ask if he was all right—but if she wanted him to listen to her she didn't need to aggravate or frustrate him any farther.

"What about that girl? Jean, right? Didn't you say she was telepathic?"

Charles straightened again, with some difficulty. "It's only a secondary mutation for her, and I know what you're implying, Raven, and no."

"Why the hell not?"

"She may be powerful, and perhaps she could help me, but I will not use her like that. She helped to free me, but I let her because she offered that. And it didn't seem incredibly dangerous. This would be."

"How would helping you help Erik be more dangerous than breaking you out?"

"Frost had not altered my consciousness; merely trapped it. What she's done to Erik is entirely different. Much more complicated. And Jean's power is raw, unfocused. She's young. She doesn't have much control—though she doesn't need much, yet; much of the full extent of her powers is still latent—and I can't control it all for her for any length of time in the condition I'm in. To be quite honest, though I didn't think that her attempting to help me would be dangerous, it very nearly was. If it had taken a moment or two longer I might have lost control of the power she was sharing. We're both very lucky that nothing got out of hand."

Raven chewed her lip. "So you're saying she can't help you with Erik because that would take longer? It would all go up in smoke?"

Charles nodded uncomfortably, and wouldn't quite look at her. "Essentially, yes. I'm afraid it's likely that right now, at least, all an attempt would accomplish would be my death, or hers, or both. It isn't worth that."

She shook her head slowly, shivering inwardly a bit. "No. It isn't. But what are we supposed to do then?"

It was a long time before he answered her. "I don't know. I suppose all we can do right now is try to get through to him; you were right about that, anyhow."

"We can do it. Or you can, anyway. I'm sure of it."

Charles winced. "I hope you're right about that, too."

Charles would have tossed and turned that night, if he could have done it without pain. Instead he was forced to remain mostly still, shifting when he could, and he could not find a position that was comfortable. He had healed enough over the days he'd been…elsewhere, but everything still ached.

That, and there was something he had to do.

Moira…?

I'm here. Thank god; I was beginning to think I wouldn't hear from you. I've only been back for a few hours, and I've heard so many rumors…

I'm…please, don't worry about me. I'm sorry, I only have a moment, but there is something I have to tell you.

What?

You mustn't speak to Erik. You mustn't contact him in any way or even act as if you know him, unless he speaks to you. If that happens, act naturally, but mention nothing about us or our plans. I know you don't actually know many details, and that is a good thing in this case, but anyhow…

What are you talking about? Why?

Shaw and Frost…they were here. Frost has altered his memory again. Until I can figure out how to get it back again, you mustn't draw any attention to yourself. Frost altered so much this time that I'm afraid if he suspected anything of you he would report it. I don't want you in any danger.

Why can't you help him like you did last time?

Charles hesitated. I uhm…I can't, Moira.

She was quiet for a long moment. What did they do to you? she asked anxiously. Please don't tell me Stryker really put you in Cerebro again. Not without fixing it.

He wouldn't lie to her, but he didn't want to confirm it, either.

Oh god, he did. Is the rest of it true?

Moira, I'm still here. The rest is in the past. Or most of it was. But one thing still clung to him, and he was afraid it always would. If she knew…

He knew he would never be able to bring himself to tell her. She couldn't know. He had long since decided that he would protect her from that, and he would stand by his decision.

But god, it hurt to talk to her and know that he couldn't call her his own anymore.

Charles…

I'll be all right. I have to go. I'm sorry.

What?

I'm sorry.

She called to him again, and he wouldn't let himself shut her out, but Charles didn't answer. It was better for her that way—to let her become angry with him; to let her, hopefully, forget him—than for her to know the truth. So he didn't answer.

He lay awake instead, curled around the pain that was not just physical, and when he did finally sleep the nightmares returned.

Erik dreamed about the telepath. It made no sense, but he did. Things that seemed like memories that he didn't recognize at all, feelings he didn't understand, and then it was all gone and he was awake and he didn't quite know what had happened. But he knew it had all had something to do with the telepath, and he knew that that was ridiculous.

But then it happened night, after night, after night.

In the days that followed Charles did everything he could to reach Erik. He reached out as often as his recovering powers and slowly returning strength allowed, pushing carefully at the walls Frost had rebuilt to weaken them and trying not to be noticed in the process. Much of the time he didn't dare let Erik know he was there at all, fearing repercussions from the angry semblance of his friend. Charles wasn't sure why—maybe it was because they had been so close—but when Erik noticed him, when he reacted angrily and chased Charles from his mind, it hurt. And not only in the sense that it hurt to see his friend so changed.

But slowly, he was able to burrow in farther before being chased away. Slowly he felt Erik begin to doubt the truth of what he thought he knew, especially when Charles, on occasion, was strong enough to pull a small memory or two from the hidden void and give them back. But it wasn't enough, and the small things he was able to free were so small that they could be dismissed as imagination, or remembrance of more dreams that made no sense to Erik. And, of course, that did not come without its own fresh waves of confusion and frustration.

Charles hated to be doing it this way—one agonizingly small it at a time. He hated the way it only angered Erik, and made him more lost and confused by the day, but there was no other way. Eventually, he hoped, the walls would break, and Erik would be himself again and he would understand, but for now…

For now hope grew slowly, too, but it did grow. It was there.

Sometimes, Charles didn't even have to pull the small memories out himself. Sometimes a new one or two or three slipped out on their own. Sometimes in Erik's dreams, and sometimes more consciously.

"I think the length of time his mind was free made him less susceptible to Frost's alterations. I think they're crumbling more easily this time, actually. It only seemed, at first, as if she'd done a much better job because she changed so much more. That was all it was. I think with time Erik may regain his memory on his own. I may only be speeding the process," he told Raven one night.

"That's good, right?"

"If I'm correct."

He still wasn't sure whether or not he was, but the hopelessness he'd felt when Frost had taken Erik was finally beginning to fall away.

Still, though, all was not looking up. Every day, every night as he lay awake, he could feel Moira, at the edge of his mind, never forgotten. He'd pushed awareness of her there to the edges to keep her pleas from overwhelming him, but he would never ignore her. He couldn't. She begged him to speak to her, to tell her what was wrong, calling out to him whenever she thought to. Charles wanted so badly to answer her—he ached to, to put a stop to her anxiousness and pain and growing anger—but he was certain it was better than what it would put her through to know the truth.

He took to sitting with the children through most meals, rather than simply visiting them. He knew that Jean missed her parents terribly, as all of the children did, and that she was comforted by his presence. Theirs, too, comforted him. The children were glad to have him there. They knew nothing of what had happened to him, and they didn't hover, or worry, and they would never judge.

Charles felt safer with them. The innocence they held was comforting—it was something everyone older here had lost. Something he had lost, when all of this began. Theirs gave him hope. It made him more determined than ever to do this—to find a way to free Erik's mind again as soon as he could. To get them all out of here.

And he was getting stronger. It should have been a good thing, but it only told him that, if he was right, they would come for him soon. If not Cerebro, or if they'd finally fixed the machine, there was always the chance that Stryker would have him brought back to the labs. Anything. But as long as he was strong enough to pull some coordinates from Cerebro, he still did not think that Stryker would allow him to regain much more of his strength ever again. He didn't think the agent would risk it, and in all likelihood Shaw had had Frost leave something behind in his mind to be sure of it.

He was right.

A little more than a week after he'd woken, after Jean had arrived and Moira had returned, they came for him. They brought him to Cerebro, and he knew it hadn't been repaired. The only good thing was the Stryker was nowhere to be seen.

When they came for him Charles did something he had never done. He held Raven back—purposefully. Figuratively. He kept her silent. He wouldn't let her protest. He wouldn't let her be hurt. It was a line, and he crossed it, but he did it because he loved her. She would be furious with him later, but that didn't matter when it came to her safety.

It was worth it.

She'd been terrified since the last time of what would happen if they forced him into the miscalibrated Cerebro again. When he'd felt them coming Charles had tried to keep the fear from his face, and failed miserably. She'd seen it. She'd known. And from the level of panic he'd sensed rising in her, and the anger, he'd known she would have made even more of a scene than before. She wouldn't have backed down. They would have hurt her.

She gave him no choice.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I love you…he told her silently, trying to control his breaths as they dragged him away. It hurt. Most of the bruises from the beating were finally fading, but they still ached, and his chest still burned. Something—more than one something, he thought—must have been sufficiently cracked.

Oh god, it was going to be worse this time. Like this.

He struggled this time, because Stryker wasn't with them. Or he tried to. But that hurt, too, and it didn't make any difference anyhow. He stopped.

Stryker wasn't there when they made it to Cerebro either. It was only the scientists in the round hub of the machine's interior, and an extra console this time, he noticed. Charles struggled again, when they put him in the chair. The terror kicked in again in full force and he nearly injured himself further, twisting and pulling and shouting and—

He heard it before he felt it. A faint cracking and sharp pain at the right side of his ribs. The feeling wasn't of giving way, of a break—though he didn't analyze that until later—but at the least an existing crack was worse now. The sudden pain brought a strangled cry and shocked him into stillness that allowed them to snap the metal cuffs over his wrists and ankles. The edges of the ones holding his wrists to the arms of the metal chair pinched painfully into his skin.

They'd finally changed them. Made them smaller. He'd lost enough weight in recent months that the second time, last time, he'd nearly pulled out of them. But they'd overcompensated. These were almost too small.

But he was in the chair now. There wasn't any getting out of this, and Charles felt his throat clogging in panic.

What was the point? Shaw and Frost would know now, after being in Erik's mind, that there was no plan without Erik. He was relatively sure that they had relieved Stryker of his suspicions in that regard.

So why hadn't they fixed Cerebro? Was it really only to keep him weak? Was it really Shaw's doing?

It had to be. No one was saying anything to him at all as they bustled about the small interior of the machine. There were four or five them this time—the scientists—instead of just two. Two of them pressed extra electrodes from the extra console to his neck and forehead before they pulled the headpiece down over him.

He recognized the console now. It was one of their standard monitoring devices from the labs, for measuring brain and telepathic activity.

Charles skimmed their minds, and his blood ran cold when he heard their thoughts.

Not only had they not fixed the machine, but they had bumped the calibrations off just a bit more. The extra console was here because they wanted extra readings to study—of what it did to him. They wanted to know if the data might be useful in their quest to learn to control him.

His breath came in panicked spurts now; Charles could feel himself shaking, and it hurt.

He almost didn't remember what it was like anymore, to live without pain.

No no no no no no no…

A litany in his mind, but he kept it to himself, and no matter how natural or well-deserved it was he cursed his fear when he felt silent tears on his cheeks before they had even turned the machine on.

The feeling of being utterly alone returned, bringing with it the hopelessness he thought he'd been able to leave mostly behind by now.

How was he going to be able to help Erik now?

Erik was coming from the dining hall when it hit him—a long, sobbing scream in his mind and pain that doubled him over. It stopped as quickly as it had begun, but somehow he knew the voice even though that was all of it he'd heard.

He knew it was the telepath.

And then the voice came again, tight and wavering with pain. I'm sorry, my friend. I'm sorry…

It dissolved away again, in a pained sob that faded into nothing. All in his head.

Friend? Why did it seem familiar, to hear that word spoken by that voice? Why was his chest tight after hearing that voice in pain? What was happening to the telepath, anyway? It had to be Stryker. He must have ordered another round in Cerebro, or the labs. Erik supposed he should check on that. It was the only thing Shaw really seemed to expect of him here, after all.

His hand clenched into a fist where he'd braced it against the wall, and Erik shook his head in frustration and went on his way.

Charles didn't mean to do it. But he was thinking of Erik when the machine was turned on, and he projected for a moment before he forced himself to stop.

I'm sorry, my friend. I'm sorry…

He thought it before he remembered that Erik wasn't his friend. Not now. Not this Erik.

He felt the backlash, and that was all he felt before it was only the pain.

Let me help!

Jean. Sweet, sweet Jean. She didn't understand. She only knew he was hurting. She only knew she wanted to do something. You can't help me, Charles managed. Her power drew him, offered hope of refuge, but even when he'd spoken to her before here, the pain had always been there, in the background. There was no way for her to help really take any of it away without feeling it herself, and she didn't understand that.

But—

Thank you, but you can't. I'm sorry. I can explain later, if you'll let me, but…but I can't—

That was all he could manage, and he used what was left to gently shove her away.

The edges of the chair's arms bit into his fingers as he squeezed harder, and he wasn't only crying in pain anymore, but in despair, as more questions filtered haltingly through his fragmented thoughts.

How could he be strong for Jean and the other children when he couldn't withstand this? How could he offer them hope when he felt his slipping away yet again? How much more could he take? How much more could Raven take? He had never let anyone hurt her, but she always dealt with the aftermath. In wore on her so. He knew that…

They shut the machine off briefly, and when they did everything was black. He'd expected that, but his chest still constricted as his sweat-soaked body shuddered through the aftershocks of his sobs. He couldn't see them, but he was relatively sure that his wrists were bleeding. His chest was on fire as he tried to catch his breath.

Not that any of it mattered.

Soon enough they'd turned it back on.

Erik made his way to Cerebro, thinking that the mostly likely option, and when he reached the installation he could hear the screams from outside on the ground.

That was where they had him, then.

He climbed the spiral stairs into the installation, but Stryker wasn't there. Only scientists and the shivering, sobbing wreck of the telepath tightly restrained in the chair at its center.

He looked so small there, every desperate cry a clear plea of makeitstopmakeitstop. Something about it tugged at him, and Erik quickly pushed the beginnings of the feeling away.

And…déjà vu? Erik felt like he'd seen this before, but Stryker had only had the telepath in here twice before, since the device had been miscalibrated, and he hadn't witnessed either incident.

"Where's Stryker?" Erik demanded. "What's going on here?"

"Just tests. All approved. We're bringing him back to the lab wing after this. However, not to worry; we are receiving coordinates. Everything will remain on schedule," one of the scientists spun out absently, walking by him but not looking at him.

Erik glanced at the printout on the main console that was spitting out the coordinates of other mutants. Slowly, but it was printing them out. "I see." He paused, and in the lull there was a particularly piercing scream from the telepath. Erik winced. "And you're certain this isn't doing any permanent damage?"

"Not to the parts of his brain that are important," one of the others shrugged, also not bothering to look up from the readout he was studying. "Possibly to his visual cortex, if anything, really, but there's no way around that."

Erik nodded, and in the silence after that he realized, suddenly, that it really was nearly silence. The telepath wasn't shouting anymore.

He spun quickly, and found the mutant struggling for air, his lips turning blue.

"Hey! Turn the damn thing off; he's suffocating!"

The scientists all looked up, finally, as one, and one of them quickly punched the off switch. The device powered down, and the telepath would have collapsed if he hadn't already been sitting and held in place. He pulled in a quick breath that came out in a sob of pain, hunched toward his right side.

"What happened?"

"I don't think we've had this problem before."

"Is it the extra bit off from the calibrations?"

The scientists were jabbering back and forth, and Erik let out an annoyed huff. "It's his ribs, you imbeciles. You put him in here with damaged ribs? Of course he can't breathe, damnit. I thought you people were supposed to have the brains around here; you're the ones wearing the white coats."

They glared at him or looked away, alternately, and that was when he realized that the telepath was looking at him.

Or…not quite looking at him. Head cocked in his direction, but Erik realized that the mutant couldn't see anything right now.

A sudden burst of images, in his mind. Emotions. Thoughts. Almost uncontrolled, and he could feel the rawness of it. The pain and desperation. Erik! Erik, please…please, please…oh god, Erik, please…please remember. Help me! A quiet sob, both aloud and inwardly. I can't take any more of this. Please…help me please…

Erik frowned, turning away quickly before he could let himself really think about what he was hearing.

Because part of him wanted to listen. Part of him, for reasons he couldn't fathom, wanted to get this mutant out of here now, before anyone else could hurt him again.

But that wasn't his job, and where the hell was that feeling coming from anyway? This was only a mutant. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that this one was valuable, and his job was to be sure it wasn't damaged beyond repair.

"Just…if you're going to continue, keep a closer eye on him," Erik said dismissively.

He left quickly, before the telepath could plead with him again, angry at the familiarity. Who did this mutant think he was, anyhow?

The screaming started again as he stepped off the installation's stairs.

Charles felt the rest of his hope slip away when Erik ignored him so completely. He hadn't meant to lose it like that, to beg like that, like he hadn't meant to project before, but even when he did—when losing control after being in Cerebro for so long led to the outburst that sent memories and so many other things to Erik's mind with Charles's pleas—Erik ignored him. Even after all of the time he'd spent in recent days chipping away at the walls Frost had built.

He was stunned to silence, until they turned the machine on again.

This time he only screamed for a little while, before losing his voice completely. It still went on after that, only with more frequent pauses to be sure he was breathing despite the fresh hitch of pain in his ribs. It went on forever. He didn't know. He only knew that finally, once when they turned it off, everything faded into blessed nothingness.

When he woke he knew where he was because the table beneath him was familiar, as was the single thin cuff that kept him bound to it.

He was in the labs.

Raven didn't see Charles for more than two days. By the end of the first day she was worried enough to be more concerned about where he was and what was happening to him than about being angry with him. By the second day she had forgiven him completely.

By the time they finally brought him back she was afraid she was beginning to lose it.

Her brother was unconscious when they dragged him in and dumped him unceremoniously on his bunk. When they left she straightened him on the bed and pulled his blanket over him, and gently lifted his head to put his pillow under it. She examined him closely, but the only marks were his raw wrists. The left was worse than the right.

The circles under his eyes were so dark—even darker than usual. And could someone lose weight in two days? And his face…it seemed as if the hope that had been there before was gone now.

He was out for nearly another twenty-four hours after that. Raven dragged her mattress back to the floor that night, and she was there sitting dejectedly on that mattress the next afternoon when Charles finally stirred. She was up in an instant, on the edge of the bed at his side. She should have known better. He jerked when he was aware enough to feel her sitting there, against his hip, and it took a moment to calm him and she could tell the sudden movement had hurt him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I forgot, I—"

Charles shook his head wearily, not looking at her, she realized abruptly, because he couldn't. She'd expected that, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He reached blindly for her hand and she took his and twined their fingers together. With her free hand Raven pushed clumps of not-quite-dry hair from his forehead. She brushed gently at his eyelids with her thumb when they closed, too, as if to tell him it would be all right.

They were silent for a long time, because they didn't always need to talk. The privilege of siblings. But when Charles did speak something froze inside her in fear.

"We're never getting out of here," he whispered brokenly.

Her fingers tightened around his. "What are you saying?"

He sobbed quietly. "Th-they…they won't let it…let it happen. Stryker won't. They'll…keep me like this. I knew before. I knew, but I thought I was making progress with Erik. I thought it didn't matter I thought he could do the rest himself I thought we would get out anyway but he ignored me…he didn't care…"

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, even more urgently.

She felt him at the edge of her mind, trying to find a way to tell her because he didn't want to say it. But his control was barely there, just coming back, still shaky. She could feel that. She could feel, too, how weak he was. That there wasn't much to control right now.

But finally it came through in bursts—faint images. Charles showed her, how Erik had seen him suffering and done nothing.

Even the first time his mind had been altered, when they'd met him. Even then he'd cared. This Erik didn't care. Or he wouldn't let himself, even if a part of him wanted to, or a part of him did.

Either way, the end was the same.

"We'll never get him back. Not this way. God…" Charles trailed off, crying now. "I'm sorry. We'll never get out now, and it's my fault. I'm so sorry."

Raven's throat clogged, and she sat frozen, holding his hand still, watching her brother cry hopelessly through tear-blurred eyes of her own.

They'd broken him. She didn't know how long he had been in Cerebro or what else they had done to him—in the labs?—but they had finally broken him.

Oh god.

No.

"Charles, stop it!"

He stopped abruptly, hiccupping from the sudden halt in his sobbing, but the sudden obedience probably had quite a bit to do with the fact that when she'd demanded it she'd slapped him. Hard.

So be it.

"Damnit, Charles, shut the hell up right now, you hear me? You are not giving up!" she shouted, taking his shoulders and shaking only enough for emphasis but not enough to hurt him. "I'm not, and you can't either! We need you!"

"But I…I can't do this anymore…" he gasped.

No. No no no, damnit. He shouldn't be saying things like that. He couldn't be broken. Not for good. That would make him not Charles anymore. That would mean her brother was lost to her, and Raven couldn't handle that. She couldn't. She had spent the better part of two years keeping him alive, and she didn't know if she could survive failing now.

She slapped him a second time, harder, and she blocked out the soft grunt of surprised pain that followed it. "Yes you can! You have to! I know it hurts. I know it's not easy. Do you think it's easy for me watching them hurt you? Don't you think I just wish this were over too? It will never be over if you give up! Are you listening to me!"

She really shook him this time, by the shoulders her fingers were digging into that held him to the bed.

"Are you listening to me!"

"You're hurting me!" It came out strong—the first thing he'd said since waking that had. It strong enough that she let him go immediately in surprise. He'd bucked up, but when she let go he slumped back into his pillow with a small moan.

"I'm sorry…"

He wasn't really listening to her.

"I just want it to stop," he was whispering fiercely. It was soft, and tears leaked from his eyes, but his voice had more life in it now. The determination had returned. "For…for everyone. I just want it to stop. This shouldn't be happening. I want it to stop…"

Raven swallowed hard. "Then don't give up," she managed after a moment.

He only nodded, staring up at the nothingness that she knew was all he saw, but the way he did it, the crispness of it, told her he'd listened.

Thank you…

Her brother's voice in her mind was weak, his powers clumsy, but the sentiment was understood. She nodded, and then asked if it was all right and curled up beside him and stayed there for a while when he nodded, too.

"What if it never comes back?"

He'd meant to keep his worries to himself, but nightmares and a bad night in general had led Raven down here beside him yet again.

It had been more than two weeks. His powers were beginning to recover and he was back to making slow, frustrating progress with Erik, he thought, but it had been fifteen days and Charles still could not see a thing. He hated it. Being anywhere other than in their cell was once again a nerve-wracking nightmare, the unexpected brush of bodies, of those he didn't know, threatening every day to send him spiraling over the edge into that night in the yard…panicked memories he wished he could lock away.

In the dark his attacker could be alive again…could hurt him again. In the dark it didn't matter what had happened in the real world. In the dark anyone could find him. Anyone could hurt him and no one would know.

He didn't mean to let his voice waver, either, but it did.

Raven gently tugged his forehead closer and kissed it. He wasn't reading her mind, of course, but he could sense her own worry, the sorrow coupled with it and the anger at Shaw and Stryker. Thanks to them he might have lost his sight completely. After this length of time even Hank was beginning to admit that it looked like a possibility. Maybe even a probability.

"Then I'll be your eyes," Raven told him quietly. She kept her voice carefully controlled, bless her.

Raven. She was the only reason he hadn't gone crazy, trapped in the dark for so long. If he was stuck this way he realized he might never be able to be without her again, and the idea of such dependence horrified him, but…at least it was Raven. She understood. She knew why he needed her and she was there for him.

Part of him tried to whisper that Moira would be just as understanding, if she knew the truth. But the rest of him was still afraid.

Moira didn't call out to him as often anymore, he noticed.

Two more days later, in the cafeteria, Charles and Raven had crossed the room to visit the children as they had every day since Charles was strong enough to do it again. Raven guided him to an empty seat at one of the children's tables that they pointed out to her, and Jean climbed up into his lap as she usually did and hugged him.

By now she knew to hug him gently. The general soreness was not gone and his chest still pained him. He had never said anything, but they all knew now. Jean had long since sensed his pain and chastised the others, though not in his presence, of course. The day after Jean had arrived here, they had all been suddenly gentler, and Charles had looked at the red-haired girl and raised an eyebrow and she had shrugged sheepishly and admitted, by giving him the memory, what she had done.

You needn't have done that, he'd told her at the time.

And she'd just looked up at him as if he had said something incredibly ridiculous, small hands on her narrow hips. Of course I had to.

Jean hugged him today and them pulled back, arms around his neck to hold her up while, he supposed, she studied him. He felt her in his mind, but he wasn't sure what she was up to and he didn't stop her or reprimand her. She wasn't doing any harm, and it was good for her to practice.

"Hey…squint at me real good," she said after a moment.

Charles raised an eyebrow now—something he did quite a bit around Jean, he supposed. "What?" It wouldn't do any good.

"Just do it," she insisted.

Raven was beside him, and he felt her mental shrug.

Charles squinted, seeing nothing but inky gray, of course. "Like this?" Wait, gray?

"Yeah," Jean said. Then she waved her hand vigorously in front of his face, and—

How did he know that?

Charles squinted harder, and he realized he was picking up the movement. Just the movement, not much more, but it was so much better than nothing.

He brought his hand up and caught her arm.

Raven started beside him. "Charles…?"

"Gray," he breathed. "It isn't black anymore. I didn't realize before." The change had been so agonizingly gradual that he hadn't noticed at all. "The movement, I…" He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, forcing back the lump that appeared in his throat and the sudden urge to cry. He couldn't do that here. Not now, with Jean in his lap watching him. "Oh thank god."

Charles could sense Jean grinning, and he laughed weakly and pulled her to him again.

"See? I told you everything would be okay," she gloated, giggling.

If only Erik would return to them, she would be proven even more right.

"How many fingers?"

Charles huffed, not needing to squint through the finally clearing grayness to know that Logan was cheating. "None, but all three claws."

Logan smirked and retracted the bone claws, and Raven was laughing.

"I told you that wouldn't work. He can see fine."

"What? So I wanted to be sure for myself."

Charles shook his head at them. "In Logan's defense, my vision is certainly not perfect yet. It's…dark, I suppose I should say. Blurry. I usually know what I'm seeing, but I'm afraid it seems it will be a while yet before it is more normal again."

"Well you're makin' progress. That's a hell of a lot better'n last week," Logan shrugged.

That was true. It had only been a view days since Jean had pointed out to him that his vision was, in fact, returning. This time last week they had all been nearly convinced that it wouldn't return at all.

Raven squeezed his arm. "Thank god." She let out a breath. "How's it going with Erik?"

Charles sighed then, too. "The same. He's still confused…angry. I seem to be making progress and then…I don't know. Nothing happens. It seems to be going nowhere. I don't know what else to do but wait. I really do think Frost's barrier are weaker now, but…well…"

"It's okay. It'll happen," she said, and the others looked on and one or two of them nodded, and he felt them hoping with her.

"I certainly hope so."

It was when they were coming out of the cafeteria that Erik came for Charles. He was waiting for them, outside the doors in the same place he had been the first time Charles had seen him after waking from the stupor that Frost had forced him into. Raven saw him first this time, and then Charles stopped and turned.

Erik just looked at them for a long minute or two, while the others streamed around them leaving the cafeteria.

For a moment Charles looked hopeful. Raven watched him, watched them both.

She saw it when Charles's face crumpled, when he went from hopefulness to sadness and finally to fear. She watched his face and body shift through the emotions, and when she looked at Erik his hard expression had not changed.

Charles let's go…

She tugged at his arm anxiously, not liking the look on Erik's face at all.

Charles!

He startled into motion, starting to follow her, hurrying her along, but then Erik grabbed him and pulled him forcefully away.

"Hey!" Raven cried out in protest, but when she tried to reclaim her brother guards crawled from the woodwork to keep her from breaking away from the stream of prisoners.

But Erik, of course, was as good as one of them. They didn't even react as he dragged Charles away.

And Charles was struggling.

With Erik.

Charles! CHARLES!

He didn't answer her.

It was after the evening meal. Darkness was falling outside when Erik dragged him out into the yard and behind the guard tower. When Erik shoved him against the concrete barrier. Charles's strength was returning so slowly after the most recent round in Cerebro that whatever energy he had was already gone by then, after struggling before now because he could see the angry, dangerous thoughts in this Erik's mind. His chest burned. It was chilly out here, and growing colder by the moment in the deepening darkness that didn't help his barely recovered vision. He felt suddenly weak, drained in every sense of the word by the coldness in the mind of this man that had been his friend.

Erik's hands clamped around his arms and held him in place, not that he could have done much moving if he'd wanted to.

"I want answers," Erik growled. "What the hell are you doing to me? Why?"

Charles didn't know what to say to that. Anything he said would sound like a lie if this Erik didn't want to believe it. He only stared, trapped between the concrete and Erik's angry eyes boring into him. A rock and a hard place. When he didn't answer Erik shook him, and his head banged into back into the concrete.

"Now!"

Charles saw the thoughts flashing through his friend's mind, faintly—violent images, anger, feeling how Erik just wanted to know what was happening to him, but that this was the only way knew to deal with it. Because Frost had meddled so awfully with his mind.

Erik, my friend, this is not you. You know the truth. You know…

Erik backhanded him viciously. "Get out of my head!"

He managed not to cry out, and he swallowed hard. "Please, my friend, remember—"

All he could do was plead. He'd done everything in his floundering power up to now to help Erik regain his memory, and this was all it had accomplished. He felt the failure in his bones. Literally now, with the cold of the concrete seeping into his skin.

"I'm not your friend!" Erik punched him this time, and Charles's head snapped back into the wall much harder this time. Everything went black for a brief moment, but then he was back and Erik was still shouting. "Why are you in my head? Why do you look at me like that? Why are you always in my head! I don't know you!"

Charles swallowed back the blood in his mouth; trying to spit it out would not be a good idea right now, with Erik this volatile. "Yes, you do. You do. Please, Erik…" He summoned what energy he had left and pulled free another memory…one he hadn't quite been able to work free before now. The day they met. Erik gasped and blinked, pausing in the middle of pulling his arm back for another blow.

But in the end it only made him angrier, and he punched Charles again anyway. And then a third time. "No, Damnit! Keep your lies out of my head!"

Charles coughed on the blood, his already dark vision swimming. "Shaw and Frost are the ones lying to you, Erik. I would never do that."

"Shut up!" This time Erik brought a knee up into his stomach, catching what was left of the worst bruises from the kicking he'd taken there weeks ago. An explosion of pain, and Charles blacked out again. He was fighting his way back when Erik took matters into his own hands and backhanded him once more, forcing him awake. "Don't you dare! I want answers, damnit! What are you doing to me!"

"Nothing," Charles gasped. Nothing but trying to help him regain the memory he should have anyway, anyhow. But he doubted saying that would help right now.

His vision was fading, and not only from trauma. His eyes still swam with fresh unshed tears, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

"Liar!" Erik punched him again, and again, and Charles could do nothing but shout.

"Erik! Please!" Then he was on the ground, and Erik's boot was connecting with his stomach, with his chest, over and over and over, and everything that still hurt hurt even more, and Charles had the sudden sinking feeling that he was going to die. If Erik didn't remember everything that had happened these past few months, Erik was going to kill him. Because he wanted answers now, and Charles had no other answers give him. He knew what was wrong with Erik's mind, but Erik didn't want to believe it. And Erik didn't seem to care about his supposed duty anymore; he didn't care about keeping Charles alive. About regulating Stryker. He only wanted to know the truth. Or he thought he did.

Erik wouldn't even have to try very hard, to kill him. Charles's body was still so weak; he didn't think it could take much more of this.

There was a brief respite, and Charles gagged around the blood in his throat and just barely managed to pull out a few more memories, sending some of his own to his friend as well. Anything he could do. "Erik, you—please remember. Try…please. I c…I can't do it for you this time." Not all of it.

He had no choice but to cough the blood out this time, and when he coughed he felt something give way in his chest—the rib he'd cracked further two weeks ago, maybe; it was on the right. He wasn't sure. He only knew it hurt like hell. Charles screamed through a throat already being rubbed raw, and the tears in his eyes found their way out from the corners.

"Erik," he whispered, but it came out much more like a sob. "Please come back."

He hadn't given up. Raven had begged him not to give up, and he hadn't.

It couldn't have all been for nothing.

Chapter Text

Erik looked at him for a long time. The conflict on his face lingered much longer this time, and for a moment Charles thought that perhaps he'd gotten through. The hand that wasn't pulled back as if to hit him again was fisted in the front of his jumpsuit, and it loosened briefly. So did the fist poised in the air.

For the smallest number of seconds, even through the dimness of the setting sun and his blurred, still recovering vision, Charles was sure he saw his Erik behind those angry eyes. For those seconds those eyes weren't so angry.

But it didn't last. The fists tightened and the one in the air came down. Charles clenched his eyes shut and flinched, and he gathered every last scrap of telepathic energy he had—something he was all too familiar now, with being forced to do—and forced it into Erik's mind and hoped it was enough to make a difference.

The rest of his mind, he noted vaguely, was making provisions for if it didn't.

He never knew if the blow landed after all.

The telepath looked at him for a long time. Erik froze, and he didn't understand why. He stared back, and suddenly it felt as if some part of himself were locked away and struggling to be free.

What the hell was it, about this mutant?

The longer he looked into those eyes, the more he felt like he shouldn't be doing this. The more part of him ached to know he had hurt this man. The more he felt like he knew this man.

The telepath had to be screwing with his head. He had to be—

Erik growled inwardly, and he let his fist go.

It would have been a sound blow, but before it landed something hit him between the eyes. In a manner of speaking. But it hurt, and he grunted and it rocked him back and he landed on his ass.

What…?

And then something else hit him, and it just felt less controlled—more panicked and small and desperate, but it hurt just as much.

Stop hurting him! You're supposed to be his friend!

A little girl's voice. It was there and it was gone, and meanwhile that little piece of something in his mind that wanted out was back, nipping and clawing at the edges. Erik sat up, holding his head and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

And then he realized that the telepath was unconscious.

He shifted forward quickly, not knowing why he cared, and saw, too, that he wasn't breathing evenly. He was having trouble, and Erik remembered the moment when the scientists had nearly let him suffocate in Cerebro.

He'd already had damaged ribs, and Erik had beaten him…

Why did it matter? It was just a mutant. And a troublemaker, at that.

It wasn't until then that his gaze settled on the bruised face. Something tugged at him, tugged at his chest the way it had when he'd been in Cerebro. When he'd seen what they were doing to the telepath and the mutant had pleaded with him…

This time the tugging was more forceful. This time nothing stopped it, and he wondered if whatever the hell had hit him had something to do with that. He knew he should be angry at that, but for once he wasn't. He let it pull, finally let the feeling take its course, and he followed it to where it came from.

You're supposed to be his friend. That small voice again.

Who are you? WHERE are you? What are you talking about?

Just look.

And somehow he knew that what the voice said had more than one meaning. Look. Look at him. Look. Look at…what?

What?

I don't know how to show you. You hafta do that. But…it's important.

He was looking. He was watching the telepath's chest rise and fall unsteadily, listening to the hitching breaths. He saw everything—the fresh black eye, the split eyebrow and lip, the blood he'd coughed up over his chin and shoulder of his rumpled jumpsuit, the deepening bruises, the way his arms looped gingerly around his chest even in unconsciousness…and his face. The expression on it. A troubled expression, but not the kind one would expect to see on a man who feared for his life.

The sort of expression one would expect to see on a man worrying for someone else.

An expression he'd seen before. On this face.

He did know this man.

This man…this mutant…this person…

There! You can do it, you can do it! It's all there you just gotta bust it all out again!

He means something to me…doesn't he?

Erik couldn't fathom how, but he felt it now. He felt it and he understood that it was pain pulling at his chest, seeing this man hurt…knowing he had done it.

Oh god, why did it hurt so much?

Yeah…you just don't remember. He didn't tell me about you cause it was too sad because you were all messed up already when I got here or something, but he thought about you all the time. I saw it.

You…you're here? Who are you? Are you a telepath too?

I'm not like Charles. I can just do some stuff. Mostly I move stuff. Sorta. I'm not good at it yet.

It wasn't just a voice. It was another mutant here. A young girl, from the sound of it.

At least he wasn't crazy.

No, but like I said, your head is all messed up.

Charles…that's his name? He'd heard Stryker andShaw both refer to him by his last name, but he hadn't known the telepath's first name.

Or supposedly he hadn't.

You knew before. You were his best friend.

I…what?

He looked at the man again, and as he watched the telepath stirred a bit, moaning quietly.

An image. In his mind. His memory. This same man, handcuffed to a table in the labs, trying to bite back the same sounds. I'm very sorry…It's taking everything I have not to continue to overload your mind, he says. He says others things. He smiles though he is in pain, and he doesn't ask Erik to leave even though it isn't comfortable for him for Erik to be there. He even laughs once, when something happens to the metal cuffs that Erik doesn't understand. Always, it isn't about him. He tries to make Erik more comfortable. He…

He's Charles.

One by one facts slipped into place, first slowly and then all at once and it wasn't a succession any longer but a torrent. Something burst in his mind and Erik fell back again on his hands, and in his mind the little-girl-from-somewhere cheered happily.

Told you!

Erik gasped a breath as if it were the first he'd been able to take since his memory had been taken again, as everything realigned itself.

"Charles!"

He launched forward again, bending over his friend. Charles was still unconscious, and his breaths still came unevenly but he was still breathing.

Oh god…he had done this. The last month seemed like a mere nightmare now but he knew it had been real. He had let Charles suffer, and he had done this. Here. Now. He had nearly killed his closest friend.

His only friend, but for Raven, and he doubted he would be able to count her after this.

His throat clogged, but Erik swallowed back the lump and carefully slipped a hand under Charles's head, the other resting on his friend's shoulder and squeezing a bit.

"Charles…?" he managed. "Charles, wake up. Charles, please…" Charles shifted minutely, groaning again, but that was the extent of movement or sign of life. "Charles!"

There was no response.

Erik squeezed his shoulder just a little more firmly. "Charles, you need to wake up." You need to be okay.

Why was he unconscious? He was hurt, but he'd still been awake after the last time…after the last time Erik had hit him. He'd been awake, and then he wasn't. What the hell happened? Why couldn't he wake up? Couldn't he hear him?

And then he remembered what had hit him—the brief telepathic overload that could only have been Charles, unless it was the girl, and now that he thought about it, it had happened twice—and he swallowed.

"Charles, come on…"

Even if his body could recover, if Charles had finally strained himself too far this time it probably wouldn't make much difference.

"Charles…" It came out more like a sob this time.

Not for me. Oh god, don't be gone because of me, don't be damaged because of me, or…

His breath caught as his thoughts finally acknowledged what might be the truth. He felt suddenly weak, and he doubled over and his forehead was resting against his friend's now.

Charles was hardly breathing anymore.

Charles PLEASE…

"Please," he repeated aloud.

Help me! He screamed it, inwardly, and the small voice answered.

I don't know what to do! Last time I could find him; I can't find him this time!

Last time? What are you talking about what happened?

The girl didn't answer those questions. She was quiet for too long.

What's happening to him!

I don't know what to do! He's not anywhere! I don't know what to do! She repeated it, the young voice crying now. Erik finally realized how young the voice really sounded.

She couldn't help him. She probably didn't understand any better than he did.

Erik sat up again, swallowing hard, and did his best to gently wipe the blood from Charles's face and chin with the sleeve of his free hand. The other still rested under his friend's head, and still there was very little movement when there was any at all. When he had cleaned away as much as he could he let his sleeve free again and his hand drifted back to his friend's face.

"Damnit, Charles…"

He waited. He didn't know how long. But the longer he waited the harder it was for him to breathe. The longer he waited for Charles to come to and it didn't happen, the more the girl's words rang in his ears and the more he was sure that something was seriously wrong, and it was his fault.

His vision blurred out, and Erik was struggling for air almost more than Charles was and trying to think of a way to apologize to his sister—not that he could ever make up for this—when Charles gasped and launched into a weak coughing fit, and his eyes flickered open.

"Charles!" His friend's coughs ended in wheezes and moans, and he curled in on himself. It brought his back off the ground, and Erik carefully pushed his arm further under Charles's back and shifted forward quickly to get a knee under him so when he came down he would have support, something to prop him up. "Easy, careful, just breathe…oh god…"

It took long, agonizing moments for Charles to calm, for him to overcome the pain and breathe in a way that resembled normal, and held him in his lap and begged silently for it to stop.

"I'm so sorry, Charles, I'm sorry. Oh god I'm sorry…"

Shaking fingers crept up to curl around the arm of the hand that held Charles's shoulder to keep him steady, and bleary blue eyes squinted up at him and a hoarse voice finally spoke.

"Erik…?"

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm sorry…"

Those eyes still squinted, as if having trouble focusing on him, and Charles's other hand reached up tentatively to Erik's face. He said nothing at first, just looked at him, as if trying to process what had happened. Erik could feel a weak push at the edge of his mind, and he gave it access freely and tried to help pull it in.

It's me. I'm me. I don't know how it happened exactly, but I'm me.

There was a quiet, dry sob and the hand fell from Erik's face. "Erik. Oh thank god, Erik…" He tried to move, to sit up more maybe, but he stopped and his face folded in pain. "Ah! Ahhhh…"

Erik's chest clenched. "I did this. I hurt you."

Charles shook his head stubbornly, though his face was still a mask of pain. "No…n-no, it wasn't…you. It wasn't." He was having trouble catching his breath again, and Erik splayed a hand over his friend's chest.

"Stop. Keep breathing."

He did. For once he listened, and he stopped talking to bring his breathing under better control. There was a rattling in his chest, and though he was conscious now worry still gnawed at Erik's mind. The look on Charles's face didn't help, as he rested on Erik's knees and held onto his arms and focused on getting the air he needed. There was pain there, and something else. Another pain, not physical—something like regret, or remorse, or sorrow.

Something Erik didn't like.

But he didn't have to wait long to learn what it was. Charles was Charles, of course, so he wasn't quiet for long. He spoke as soon as air was coming more easily again.

"You have to get everyone out of here…you have to do it now," he managed finally.

You. Not we.

"What are you saying?"

"It's…my fault we didn't…go before now. It's too dangerous…to wait any longer. You have to get them out. Now. Right now."

"What? What about you?"

"I can't help…Stryker won't let me get my strength back. Just go."

"Not until you can walk. Or Hank and the others can carry you."

"I'll slow you down…you need to go." His voice wavered, and Erik's throat closed.

"No—"

No. He wouldn't leave Charles behind. He wouldn't be responsible for Charles being left behind. He wouldn't let it happen at all.

"You can't wait!"

"We've waited long enough; what will a few more days matter? You're in no condition to go anywhere, and I am not leaving without you."

"But you know what trouble waiting has caused; we almost lost our chance forever. We can't afford to—"

"No."

"But—"

Erik's voice hardened, and he let it on purpose. "Are you going to force me to do it?"

Sudden silence, Charles staring up at him shock, and then, "No…"

"Then we're waiting. Just a few days, just until you can travel. You don't have to be walking on your own; if you can do it with help that's good enough."

"But I'll slow you down…"

"Not enough to matter, and I doubt you'll be the only one a little the worse for wear anyhow. Besides that, we need to wait a few days. We need to be sure we know exactly how we're doing this." Erik was aware that the role-reversal with himself as the patient one now was a bit ironic, but now wasn't the time to worry about it.

Charles was quiet now, and he seemed to have accepted that he wasn't going to change Erik's mind. He let out a heavy breath, though he grunted loudly once he'd done it. Erik's hand moved back to his shoulder and tightened.

"Charles?"

"Hmm?" he managed weakly.

Erik swallowed. "How bad is it? Really?"

Charles pulled in a breath more carefully this time, gaze drifting into the distance as he tried to come up with the answer. "I uhm…" He grimaced. "I'm not entirely sure…I think it's only the one broken rib. The rest is just…a good bit of bruising."

"Deep bruising."

"I will heal, Erik…"

"But it'll take a while, thanks to me," he finished bitterly.

"Stop that…please." He smiled weakly. "It's a small price to pay to have you back." His face fell abruptly. "God, Erik, I was so afraid you would never come back to us…"

Erik tried to smile. "Afraid you'd be stuck here?"

Charles shook his head a bit, and his answer was completely serious. "No...horribly afraid I had lost my dearest friend."

Erik blinked down at him, apparently caught off guard. He quickly looked away, still blinking but for a different purpose now, and Charles smiled to himself.

Having Erik back more than made up for his aching body.

Though everything did hurt quite a lot. But he wouldn't tell Erik that. He wouldn't need to, and it would only make him feel worse. What had happened was not Erik's fault, and he did not need to feel any worse about it.

Erik hadn't quite cleared the dampness from his eyes when he glanced down again, though Charles was only barely able to see that. His vision had darkened a bit more, blurred again—he had lost some progress, as he had the last time he'd had to try something so quickly and use so much power—but he knew what ground he had lost he could regain, as long as they were out of here before they brought him to Cerebro again.

They were both quiet for a while, Charles resting and waiting for Erik to say something else. When he did, it was a question.

"What happened to you?" he asked, an edge of anxiousness in his voice. "When you lost consciousness…you weren't responding, and…"

"Jean couldn't sense me."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "She already told you she was talking to me."

He had been aware of Jean almost before he had been aware of Erik, the girl shouting in his mind trying to rouse him and being relieved when he finally answered her. She had let him see her side of what had happened.

Thank you, for helping Erik, he had told her.

I didn't really do nothing...

Anything. And you did enough. Thank you.

Charles had told her she should sleep, and she had retreated now.

"Yes. I know what happened."

"Then what the hell was wrong with you?"

He made a face. "I'm sorry, it was…a defense mechanism, I suppose you might call it. I uhm…I wasn't sure if what I'd done was going to help. I didn't know if you would remember. Part of my mind decided that once I had transferred what telepathic energy I could that it would be better to shut down for a while—completely. Everything but what was needed to keep my body functioning. As a precaution. That is the simplest explanation that I can offer you..."

The even shorter version, of course, was that his mind had shut down automatically in response to the prediction that Erik had been near to killing him before he remembered the truth.

He had shut down so he wouldn't have to feel the rest of it.

But then, of course, it had worked, which meant there was no reason to present it to Erik that way. Again, it would only make him feel worse.

Erik, though, seemed to understand anyway, at least to some extent. His jaw clenched and he looked away again, blinking furiously one more, though this time he was upset rather than touched.

"But you're all right," he said finally. "There's no damage? To your…mind, or anything like that?"

"No. I'm quite all right. Of course at the moment my powers are rather nonexistent beyond basic sensing and communication, but unfortunately that has been rather par for the course recently."

"I'm sorry."

"Nonsense. It certainly is not your fault."

Erik only made a face and sighed. His fingers twitched under Charles's head when he moved, glancing about suddenly as if afraid they might be seen.

"I have to bring you back, don't I?"

"That would be advisable. If Stryker doesn't know about your commandeering me yet, he will soon. It would be better if his suspicions were not raised; Shaw and Frost rid him of them before leaving, and that could give us an advantage that we did not have before."

He nodded reluctantly and looked down again, brow pinched as he studied Charles. "How are you doing?"

Charles only raised his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean."

Yes. He did. "We've no choice but to get me back anyhow; we might as well get it over with," he sighed.

Erik nodded in understanding, and the hand on Charles shoulder moved away. Charles raised his knees from the ground and Erik's arm slipped under them while the other that had been under his head pushed farther to hold under his shoulders more firmly.

"You're sure?"

No. Not really. But that didn't matter, did it?

Charles nodded quickly, and Erik picked him up. It hurt, though perhaps not as much as he'd been afraid of. A groan escaped his throat, but he quickly cut it off at the sharp wave of regret from Erik.

It's all right. I'm all right. Go on.

"I'd feel better if you had said that out loud," Erik grumbled, moving carefully for the yard's doors.

"I'm all right. Go on," Charles grated out.

"You're still not helping."

Make up your bloody mind, Erik! He felt badly for snapping almost immediately, but he said nothing. He didn't need to. It was the pain talking, and Erik would know that.

Erik didn't need to shift him at all to open the doors out into the corridors, of course, and he made the rest of the short trip as easy as he could. There were stairs, and that hurt more, but there was nothing Erik could do about that. There was nothing Charles could do, either, to temper his gasps then, but Erik rebuffed his silent apologies.

Don't do that. Don't apologize to me. A heavy silence. God…you really aren't angry?

No, my friend. Not at you. Never doubt that. If I am ever angry with YOU, Erik, you will know it. At the moment I am simply incredibly relieved that you are yourself again.

Erik chuckled aloud quietly, almost sadly. I suppose that's why you are you and I'm me.

Charles frowned, glad for the distraction of conversation but not liking where this was going. You still want Stryker dead.

Stryker. Shaw. This whole damn mess is their doing.

You know it would be wrong.

I want to listen to you, Charles. But the more you're hurt because of them the harder it is.

I can take care of Shaw, Erik. We've been over this. Once we're free and I've recovered we can find him. I can make sure that he will never be a threat again. But we do not have to kill him, Charles insisted.

What about Stryker?

Outside of this facility he is not enough of a threat to be worried about. And soon this facility will be gone.

He's the fuel behind so many of the arguments against mutants now, Charles. He sure as hell IS a threat. If we let him live there will be another place like this before you can turn around.

Then…I can do something about that, as well. But killing is not the answer.

We'll see, Erik hedged.

He was quiet after that.

Raven paced the cell nervously from the moment the door was locked in her face, and hoped and prayed that whatever the hell was happening didn't end in disaster. She called out to Charles, so many times, and for too long there was no answer.

When he did answer he sounded weak.

I'm all right, Raven.

It was all he said, and mere moments later the door opened, and she understood why he'd sounded somewhat faint when he'd contacted her.

He'd been beaten again. That much was clear immediately, from the fresh bruises and the blood on the shoulder of his jumpsuit and the pained expression on his face.

It was Erik who carried Charles in, and though he didn't seem violent now the only explanation Raven could fathom was that he had been the one to hurt her brother. After the way he'd acted since Shaw and Frost changed his memory again, and the way he'd looked when he dragged Charles away, it fit, and bile rose in her throat along with the anger in her chest.

She clenched her fists and bit the inside of her mouth, forcing herself to remain still while Erik—or this sad parody of him—asked the guards to close the door and brought Charles to his bunk and set him down.

She didn't bother to wonder why he'd had the door closed; she took it as an opportunity to attack him as soon he was away from her brother.

"What did you do to him!"

She flew at him, lashing out and forcing him against the wall. She caught his chin with her fist and his shin with her shoe, and drew her arm back the other way to backhand him as hard as she could manage—anything she get in, because she knew he was strong and he would push her away in seconds. She would only have one chance to hurt him, though anything she could do wouldn't be enough.

But he didn't stop her.

"Raven!" It was Charles, calling out but not loudly enough because he couldn't, and she didn't register it until he shouted in her mind. RAVEN STOP!

She backed away abruptly, not forced in any way, but at the same moment Charles shouted at her inwardly she registered, too, the fact that Erik was not shoving her away. He wasn't fighting back. He wasn't even trying to protect himself. She stared, and when he seemed to realize that she wasn't coming at him any longer he looked up, slowly.

Erik looked at her almost hesitantly, and everything in his expression screamed pain and shame and regret.

It was—

"Erik?"

He nodded wordlessly, rubbing at his reddening cheek now and standing mostly on the foot of the leg she hadn't hit.

"It's him," Charles told her. But she'd known the moment she saw his eyes.

Raven shot forward again without thinking, clamping her arms around him tightly, and Erik grunted in surprise. He staggered back against the wall from the force of the impact, and there he was frozen. It took several long seconds before he recovered enough from the shock to return the embrace.

"Thank god. Other you was an asshole."

Erik huffed out a breath, and from the bunk Charles was chuckling.

"You aren't angry, either," Erik said then, incredulously.

Raven pulled back and let go, exchanging a glance with her brother. "Oh I'm angry. I'm plenty angry. Just…not at you. I'd like to be angry with you. But anything that happened before you got your memory back wasn't you, I guess. Whatever you did…" She frowned. "What did happen?"

Both men were silent at that.

"Charles—"

"It's difficult to explain, Raven," he said gently. "But Erik is back now, and that is all that should matter."

She scowled and went to perch carefully on the edge of the bed at his side. He still winced when the bed moved, and she sighed and curled a hand around one of his. "I know. But you're hurt, and I'd rather know why."

Erik still stood near the wall, fists clenched at his sides now. "I was angry…the other me was…god."

"Erik…" Charles began.

"I almost killed you."

Raven blinked, looking back and forth between them, and part of her still wanted nothing more than to lash out because her brother was in pain, but that part of her warred with the part that knew it wasn't Erik's fault and was relieved he was himself again.

She was glad he was back.

"Charles is right," she said finally. "You're back. That's what matters. You weren't you before."

Neither of them responded to that, and Raven felt a gentle nudge from Charles suggesting that maybe she give them a moment.

All right…

She got up, and retreated behind the screen under the guise of finding a cloth to dampen.

Erik's face was clouded even after Raven had given them a bit of space. He came to the bunk and crouched beside it without any prompting, but he was still scowling.

"Everything Frost pulled to the front came from somewhere, Charles. Everything I've been for the last four weeks is in me, somewhere.

"But when you're yourself you have the will to control it," Charles said quickly. "You have that will, Erik, and it's what makes you who you are. Yes, you've been through terrible things, and yes, there is so much anger in you, but you don't let it overtake you."

Erik was shaking his head slowly. "But what if I did, someday? What if someday I couldn't control it anymore? I could hurt someone. I could hurt you again, or Raven. Or anyone."

"You won't."

"How do you know that?"

"I have faith in you."

Erik's mouth pressed into a thin line. "What if it's misplaced?"

"I don't believe it is."

"Even after the past few weeks, you can say that?"

Charles paused before answering. "I'm not saying that there will not be…things to be worked out, later. But I know that you are my friend, and that I don't want that to change."

"Even after this." He nodded, vaguely, to Charles's battered face and the way he held his chest, and Charles winced.

"It was not you—never mind. I've told you that." He let out a slightly uneven breath, not knowing quite what to say. "Do you have any idea what it's been like, without you here? If you did perhaps you would understand how relieved I am—we both are—simply to have you back and yourself. How being willing to forgive is not difficult."

"Speak for yourself!" Raven called from the other side of the screen. She came out, arms crossed. "Or okay, I forgive him because it wasn't him, but I'm still pissed. In general."

Erik shook his head and looked at Charles again. "Fair enough. But what if Frost or someone like her takes my control by force like that again?"

He would have shrugged, but that likely would have hurt a bit too much at the moment. "I suppose that's what telepathic friends are for."

"Once you're stronger again you can make sure I don't hurt anyone?"

"Once we're free of this place and my powers are stronger you shouldn't be in any danger of anyone altering your mind at all."

Erik looked at him for a long moment, as Raven took her place on the edge of the bunk again. "So you won't let me hurt you."

"You are worrying far too much about this."

"Promise me."

Now it was Charles who was silent at first. "I promise," he said finally.

Erik nodded then, and Charles wasn't sure, again, what to say. He was distracted from worrying about it when Raven pressed a damp cloth to the split in his eyebrow. He jumped a bit—it didn't quite hurt, but neither was it pleasant—and his chest twinged rather painfully.

He hissed quietly.

"Sorry," Raven winced.

Erik made a face and glanced at Raven uncertainly. "Do you want me to—?"

"You should get going, before someone starts to think something," she said quickly, only glancing up briefly from dabbing at Charles's brow.

"She's right," Charles agreed. "I'll contact you tomorrow or later tonight and we can work out the details of this. And I uhm…I'm afraid that we should probably keep our distance until we make this move."

Erik nodded in understanding. "I know. It's the only thing that makes any sense."

"It won't be long."

"I know. Just make sure it's long enough. The last thing we need is you passing out while we're trying to make a run for it."

"We won't be able to wait long either way, Erik. It's been more than two weeks since—"

"Cerebro. I know that too. Can you keep a closer eye on Stryker for now? To be sure we're out of here before he tries that again?"

Charles made a face, hoping so. "All I can do is my best."

Erik stood, nodding again. "If you pick anything up let me know."

"Of course."

"Now get out of here," Raven cut in good-naturedly.

Charles caught his friend's eyes and smiled a bit for good measure. All is forgiven, Erik, my friend. Welcome back.

And finally Erik did smile a bit, in thankful relief, before he turned to go. We'll get out of here, Charles. Everything's going to be fine.

He paused at the door and glanced back, as if remembering something. "Moira's back on base, but she hasn't so much as looked at me. I assume you warned her I wasn't myself?"

The warmth in Charles's chest vanished immediately. "Oh. I ah…yes. I did. I suppose you should be sure she knows that you are, in fact, on our side once more."

Erik started to open his mouth, and Charles could just faintly hear the question in his mind. Could you give her a heads up for me? But he quickly shut his mouth again and he didn't ask. He didn't ask the other question on his thoughts, either. Have you even talked to her?

"Right…" Erik said instead.

Then he was gone, and once they were alone Raven, of course, wasn't quite so hesitant to ask the question.

"Have you talked to her at all?" she asked gently.

The cloth she was cleaning the remaining blood from his face and neck with pressed into the bruises a bit too much, and he grimaced. "I...not precisely. No…not since I warned her to stay clear of Erik after she returned," he admitted.

"Charles, that's been weeks. She's bound to be worried sick, especially when she doesn't know why you're avoiding her." She paused. "She doesn't, does she?"

"No," Charles answered quickly. "And she won't."

"You have to tell her something."

"Tell her what?"

"I don't know, but—"

His chest ached now—not from the damaged ribs—and he closed his eyes. Charles knew he had done nothing but avoid the subject, but he was too exhausted now to do anything else. "Raven, please…not now."

She sighed heavily, and for a while there was silence. Then he heard movement, and felt her lips brush his forehead. "Fine. For now," she said, though disgruntled. She sat up again. "I'm done; you're as clean as you're going to get right now. Is there anything else I can do?"

He let his eyes open again. "Not that I know of...thank you."

"Just get some rest then. Start healing."

Her mattress was still on the floor—the nightmares had been worse with the blindness, and he had still been recovering anyhow, and it had just never been moved—so Raven didn't need to go far. She made him as comfortable as she could and moved down to her own bed, and as it grew later the lights dimmed further and they were left nearly in the dark.

Charles wasn't quite asleep when her voice came from the gloom.

"God, are we really getting out of here?"

Considering where they'd been this morning—considering all of it—it was more than a bit difficult to believe.

Chapter Text

Erik didn't expect to sleep at all that night, though somehow he managed to. But even then he couldn't escape the images of what had happened earlier in the evening. He couldn't escape the reality of what he'd done. It helped to have his friend's forgiveness, and Raven's even if it was a bit grudging, but he still felt it. He still saw it when he slept.

Charles beaten by his own hands. His friend pleading with him. The pain he'd been in even after it was all over. Because he was injured. Because Erik hurt him.

And then, more distant and not as vivid but somehow more real, there was more. It kept going. Charles and Raven, alone in their cell. Or…no, just Raven. No. Both of them, but in flashes he saw through Charles's eyes. Everything faded and blurry and there was pain like nothing he'd felt before and he didn't know why. He—no, Charles. Charles panicking. Raven, up now, not understanding. A gasped, insufficient explanation.

I don't KNOW! Can't MOVE…hurts…must be—

He didn't get all of it. In and out, like a bad signal or a damaged video.

There was Raven, pounding on the door, calling. They aren't listening to me! Can you—?

A shift, a strangled cry of pain. I can't! You have to make them understand! Oh god…

Another garbled groan, and so much pain, and what was happing? Panic. Panic but not as much as there could be. A small amount of understanding, of the possibilities.

Maybe the Charles of the dream understood but Erik didn't. He was panicking more himself, not knowing yet that it was only a dream.

Charles, hang on! Raven, throwing herself into the cell door andscreaming for help with much more urgency and finally, finally the sound of hurrying footsteps in the corridor…

And then Erik was awake, twisted in the sheets and covered in a cold sweat, and he could not still his heart for anything.

The end of the dream echoed in his mind, and something told him that maybe it wasn't only a dream. No, he knew it wasn't a dream. How did he know that? What the hell was going on? Was something really wrong with Charles? If that was true, why hadn't Charles contacted him?

Maybe because he was too distracted to. Maybe he was in too much pain. God, the pain he'd felt in the dream…Erik's hand drifted across his midsection, his ribs and abdomen, and then he froze as the memories of that evening surfaced again. How much damaged had he done…?

He was out of bed in seconds, pulling back on the clothes he'd been wearing before. He hadn't really changed; he'd simply dropped the clothes to the floor and climbed into bed in his shorts and a t-shirt, not bothering because he hadn't expected sleep anyway. He was out the door and down the corridor as quickly as his legs could carry him, and a sick sense of dread filled him as he flashed back on the last time he had done this. The last time he'd had to rush to his friend's aid.

He'd been too late then.

Erik wasn't aware of the alarms until he was nearer the center of the compound. He hadn't heard these before; he didn't know what they meant. They were still there, maybe even louder, when he made it to the cells. There were extra guards at the entrance to Charles and Raven's hallway, and the lights were on full though the night was still deep. The guards recognized him and let him through, and he could see an extra set of guards outside his friend's cell, too, though it seemed that whatever commotion there had been was dying down. The sirens were beginning to shut off.

What happened?

Inside the cell Raven was screaming, but he couldn't make anything out. He went for the cell door, and at first these guards tried to keep him out, but he merely snarled at them and mentioned something about Stryker and they let him in.

As soon as he had pushed the door closed behind him and twisted around he was met with a fist to the face.

"This is your fault!"

He didn't know what had happened, but that much he already did know, even as he smacked back into the cell door and slumped a bit, trying to regain his footing. He almost expected another blow or few, but nothing happened. Raven was just there, standing in front of him and seething, when his vision realigned.

"What happened?" he questioned anxiously.

Raven shouted at him, the words tumbling out end over end and only seeming to further incite her panic. "Charles woke up and he couldn't move it hurt so much! We didn't know what was wrong with him! They had to take him and they're calling the medical staff back in; the doctor doesn't even stay here at night! And they think it's internal bleeding, but how would I know? If it is and it's as bad as it looked like he could be dead before the doctor or the rest of the medical staff gets back here, and you know they won't take him to a hospital, but I don't know what's going on because he won't answer me! I don't even know if he's still alive now!"

Erik let out a heavy breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and felt himself pale. Oh god…but he couldn't panic. Not now. Not when Raven was already rather far into panic herself.

He cut her off, taking her shoulders. "Stop! He's not dead."

"How can you know that! How?" She was begging him for a reason to hope.

Erik swallowed, tightening his grip on her shoulders purposely so that he wouldn't lose it. "Because if Charles was gone we would know it. He would have found a way to let us know. We would know. We just would."

Raven fell silent at that, staring at him for a long moment before swallowing too and looking away. "You're right," she said weakly.

She moaned, arms clutching around herself tightly as if to keep herself together, and suddenly she was just as short of breath as he'd been on the way here. Erik caught her before she could collapse and brought her to the mattress on the floor that she'd dragged down from her bunk. He sat her down gently and crouched beside her, still with a steadying hold on her arms.

"Raven?"

"What if they can't help him in time?" she sobbed quietly.

Then Erik would no longer be able to claim himself a friend of Charles Xavier. He would be Charles's murderer, instead.

"They will," he said quickly. "They'll pull out all the stops; you know that. They can't let him die. He's too valuable to them."

"If it's too late already that won't matter," she whispered.

Erik didn't know how to respond to that. This was his doing, and he knew it, and she knew it. She should still be screaming at him, but she wasn't, and he could only assume that the gnawing worry he was feeling himself now was the only think keeping her anger in check. Rather, instead of being angry now she leaned into him for support, and Erik had to come down to his knees from the crouch to prevent toppling over.

He hesitated before he looped his arms around her. He didn't know if she wanted his comfort. But she didn't pull away.

"He'll be all right. He'll be all right. He will…" It was all he could say.

For Charles, consciousness returned slowly and painfully, and at first he didn't know where he was or what had happened. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar and he was in a strange bed—a bit better than his bunk, but not by much—and eventually he realized that his wrists, ankles, and arms were strapped down and there was an IV in his arm.

Though if the drip was supposed to be helping with pain, it wasn't doing a very good job of that. His chest was still on fire and it was worse if he tried to move. But the rest of his torso ached everywhere, hurt, particularly in the abdominal region, and when he did move he was relatively sure he was feeling the tug of stitches there. But he was still too groggy to be sure. He wasn't sure how long he hung between the darkness and murky light.

It took even longer to remember what had happened.

Erik. Erik! Erik was…

Erik was himself again. Erik was back. But…

But it was Erik who had hurt him, before he regained his memory. Charles still didn't blame him, but neither did he understand why he was here. He hadn't been hurt that badly, had he? He thought he remembered Erik bringing him back to the cell.

When he had enough faculties to do it Charles reached out to his friend, tentatively, though Erik was not hesitant to respond and Charles could feel the urgency when he answered.

Charles! Is that you? Are you all right?

I am…I'm here. What happened?

You don't remember? There was an edge to the response, and guilt Charles could feel coming from Erik in waves.

I remember that you brought me back to Raven. Then you needed to leave. It was safer that way. What happened after that? Do you know? Why am I…is this the infirmary? As often as he'd been hurt here, he had never seen it. It was only for emergencies. Life or death situations. For anything else, the prisoners were expected to take care of themselves.

Which meant whatever had happened could not have been good.

Erik hesitated now, before answering those questions.

Yes, it's the infirmary. But…anything else, I don't have any direct information. Just what I've overheard or Stryker's mentioned in passing. I...I know it was some kind of internal bleeding, due to the new injuries. I doubt if anyone but the medical staff they brought in knows or cares what kind or how bad it was, so there's no one I can ask without looking suspicious. But I know there was surgery, and I know they've been saying you're stable now.

Charles swallowed hard, small flashes of what had happened the last time he woke finally coming back. He remembered pain, much worse than what he was feeling now, and panic, and Raven screaming…

Raven?

I managed to let her know you were alive, at least, once I'd heard you were out of the woods. For a while we weren't even sure if you would make it. Erik's voice was flat, distant, trying to keep control while he explained this. Charles wouldn't have to be sensing, it, too, to know.

How long has it been?

Almost three days.

Charles shifted a bit without thinking, grunted loudly, and hoped none of it had gotten through. Erik, this is not your fault. I know you're thinking it.

I know. We went over that, right? But there was definite sarcasm there. It was dark, but it was sarcasm.

You don't believe it.

You really did nearly die, Charles! Do you have any idea how long it took them to clean you out, or how much blood you lost? Even in just the few hours before they got to you? I may not have access to the medical reports, but I heard enough of them talking afterwards, and I know how long it was before we knew you were even going to live! Stryker was back here and pacing for hours, though not because he cares or anything, but that's beside the point.

Charles was quiet for a moment. Do they know what happened?

I had to tell them something. I didn't have much of a choice, Erik answered angrily. Of course I had to spin it differently—they still think I'm one of them, but for being Shaw's lackey—but they know I did it. A frustrated sound slipped through the telepathic connection. Put this with how I've acted for the past month, and Stryker almost likes me now.

That could be a good thing, Charles reminded him gently. That could work in our favor, in carrying out this escape more smoothly.

Maybe. But I don't feel any less disgusted.

I understand. Believe me, I do, but it's all right. He let out a careful breath, and he was sure by now that there was nothing in the drip for pain management, or at least there wasn't as much as he would be getting after surgery at a legitimate hospital.

But there was no reason for Erik to know that.

Erik, you have my forgiveness, and just because we didn't know that this would happen when I gave it does not mean that I am going to take it back. And we DID go over this; there was hardly anything for you to be forgiven for to begin with.

Why did I know you were going to say something like that? But there was weak amusement now, from Erik's end, and Charles smiled to himself.

You're much more insightful than you give yourself credit for, perhaps.

Erik didn't exactly respond to that. Instead he moved on. Well…at the very least, I suppose this gives us a bit more time to be sure we're doing this the right way. We don't have to rush it. Stryker won't be able to risk having you anywhere near Cerebro for a few weeks; not until you've recovered. He's already livid about that part, but he knows he has to do it. As much as he doesn't care himself, he does know his superiors won't be happy if you end up dead. So we have enough time now.

I still don't want to wait any longer than is absolutely necessary, Charles answered quickly. As I pointed out, waiting has not served us well up to now.

Agreed.

The personnel dining hall was no more crowded than usual, but just to be safe Erik had retreated to the corridor when he felt Charles reaching out to him.

Moira, however, had followed him. It had taken a good couple of days of convincing, but she finally understood that he was himself again. And now she wanted answers.

"He's fine, Moira."

"So he's talking to you then?" she shot back bitterly.

Erik winced. "I don't know what to tell you. It isn't my place to tell you why he hasn't contacted you. I don't even know that I understand it myself."

Moira made a face and slumped against the wall of the hallway. "I thought as much, but I wouldn't bother you about it at all if I didn't think there was something bigger going on here. It's been back and forth from the beginning—and for good reasons—but I have the feeling there's something else this time. It isn't just that he's rethought things again, is it? Something happened. I can feel it. The last time he said anything to me, right after I got back…he sounded…off. He isn't just trying to keep me safe."

"He is…"

"But? I know there's a 'but.' There has to be." Erik look away, but she pressed on anyhow. "We had already made our decisions, Erik! He wouldn't have gone back on them without a reason. Something's wrong."

"As long as he and the others are still trapped in here something will always be wrong," Erik snapped. He didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but the last three days worrying over Charles's condition had taken its toll on both of them.

Moira just looked at him for a long moment, long enough for him to know she agreed with him before she went on. "That isn't what I mean, and you know it," she said.

Erik huffed a bit, searching for words that were safe. "A lot happened while you were gone, Moira…"

"I was barely gone more than two weeks!"

"A lot can happen in two weeks!" Someone's sense of security could be ripped away in that time. Someone could be damaged. Someone could lose what hope they had in humanity, or all but lose what innocence they had left. And all of that could happen in an hour. In minutes.

Something must have shown on his face, because Moira was looking at him much more intently now. "Erik?"

Erik? It echoed in his mind, in Charles's voice, and Erik realized that he and Charles had not exactly finished their conversation. They had merely stopped.

Sorry…I was distracted. He paused. I suppose you should know that Moira is here with me. She knows my memory has been restored.

Oh. Well…how is she?

You could ask her yourself. Silence, in which Moira was still calling his name. She's fine, beyond the fact that she's still having a difficult time trying to understand why you've shut her out again. She's hurt, and she's worried.

I want to be able to fix it…

Erik shook his head to himself, and held up a hand to ask Moira to give him a moment. Then fix it! You have to tell her something, Charles, and it might as well be the truth.

No! I can't—I mean, she shouldn't have to—

She deserves the truth. If you can't tell her, maybe I should.

NO, Erik!

But now that he'd said it, the thought took root and he knew it was the only right thing to do. Charles, you're making excuses for why she shouldn't know because you don't want to talk about it yourself. I understand that. I don't know if I could talk about it either, if it were me. I don't know if I could talk about it now, when it's not me. But let me do this for you. Let me try. If she knows, it will be easier for both of you. Maybe you can start to sort this out. But you won't get anywhere if she doesn't know and you're always afraid she'll find out.

That's why I've kept my distance in the first place; to make it easier…

Stop it. That won't work, and you know it. It didn't work the first time around. If she didn't let you go after the year and a half you spent not talking to her the first time, do you think a few weeks of non-communication now is going to convince her to move on? She loves you, Charles. There was silence again, but this time Erik felt the pain it was laden with. And you love her. I know you do.

I do. But that doesn't matter anymore. This time the answer was so quiet he hardly heard it at all. Erik grimaced, and Moira was looking at him in alarm but he waved his hand again to let her know it was all right; he just needed more time.

Charles…

Don't.

Erik took Moira's arm and motioned for her to follow him again, and she nodded warily but she did follow. He was headed for his room, and by now Charles was paying attention to what he was doing.

Erik, don't!

Do you think I want to? But she has to know. Raven and I have done everything we can. We're here for you. But you're never going to be able to heal if Moira doesn't know and that question isn't resolved one way or the other.

No…Erik, please. I'm…I'm…

What? he asked more gently.

Afraid.

Erik swallowed. I know. But it'll be all right. Just trust me. Do you trust me?

I trust YOU…

Are you saying you don't trust Moira?

No! I trust Moira. I trust her implicitly, b-but I—

Then where is your argument?

Charles sighed in frustration, and Erik heard the fear in it, but also the realization of defeat. I don't know.

You aren't going to lose her.

I've already lost her.

You don't know that.

Silence once more, a standoff of sorts, and Erik was the one to continue.

It will be worse in the long run if you never find out and you spend the rest of your life regretting it. Charles didn't say anything. Maybe you shouldn't be listening in for this…

When Charles didn't answer that either, Erik knew he'd won.

Not that he was any more happy about it than Charles was, but…

"Erik, what is going on?"

He tugged Moira into his room and shut the door, after being certain no one was in the corridor. "You need to know something…I can't tell you out there."

Moira relaxed a bit, but she was still on edge and Erik wished he could make her feel better. But what he had to tell her was already guaranteed to make everything worse.

Hopefully, though, it could only go up from there. For her and Charles both.

Charles should have known he would lose the argument. He'd just woken up, and despite the lacking amount of drugs he was being given there was still enough in his system to—

But that was just excuses, wasn't it? At least part of him knew that Erik was right.

But the rest of him still fought it. And why? What was he so afraid of? Did he really think Moira would reject him now, or was it something else?

It was something else. He knew it was, but…she was going to ask, once she knew, and how could he tell her? How could he explain why nothing could be the same anymore?

It was too much to think about. It was too much to lie here, knowing what was going on across the facility. Charles let Raven know that he was all right for now—physically all right, anyhow, or as much as he could be at the moment—and he fought with what drugs there were until they obliged to pull him under again.

Words. Erik hated them with a passion just now, because he knew he needed to use them, but the ones he needed refused to pass his lips.

Without them he couldn't make Moira understand what had happened. He couldn't make her understand that the Charles she had come back to was not quite the same as the one she had left. He couldn't make her understand that Charles loved her but there were obstacles now—more than the metal walls—things to be overcome. And they could be. But only if he told her. Only if they had that chance.

Erik didn't have his friend's abilities; he couldn't do anything without the words, but the only ones he'd managed to get out as of now were the same ones he used in his own mind, when he had to remember.

Attack was far too ambiguous a word for what Charles had been through. The word 'attacked' would not explain Charles's sudden fear of rejection, anxiety around those he did not know so closely, or aversion to the touch of any but those he was close to. It wouldn't explain the new nervousness or the flashbacks or the panic episodes.

"Attacked? What do you mean 'attacked?'"

It was all Erik had been able to say.

"Do you even know why Stryker had them out there on the posts when you left?" A question that didn't answer hers, and he scolded himself for his cowardice. He wasn't afraid of Shaw, or Stryker—he hated them, but he wasn't afraid of them—why was he afraid of this?

Moira scowled at him. "I didn't bother to ask. It didn't matter; I already knew none of them had done anything wrong. Undoubtedly it was just something else Stryker found to complain about."

"A few of the guards were trying to rape a girl behind the guard tower; Charles caught wind of it in time for him and the others to stop them, but when Stryker made it down there the guards lied. They told him Charles, Sean, Hank, and Darwin had attacked them without provocation."

Moira huffed and shook her head, crossing her arms. "Knowing both Stryker and Charles, none of that surprises me. But what does that have to do with what happened to Charles?"

"Stryker let the other three go the next day, but he left Charles out there another night. That's…when it happened."

"When what happened?"

What had ever made him think he could do this? Erik wondered. He didn't want to talk about this any more than Charles did. But he knew it would be even harder on Charles, and he knew he had to do this. After everything he'd said to his friend, what he'd promised, he couldn't back down now.

"Charles was alone. Unguarded. One of the men they stopped saw it as an opportunity." Erik was scowling now, the anger quickly returning.

Moira paled immediately. "Wait. You mean…?" Erik could only look at her, and she started to panic. "What? What happened? What did he do to him? Why won't Charles even talk to me?"

His mouth opened more than once, but the words stuck in his throat and he realized he really had never let himself even think it.

"Erik!"

He swallowed. "I still can't tell you why he won't contact you. Only he really knows that, if he does. All I can tell you is what happened."

"What are you talking about? What happened?"

Erik couldn't quite look at her when he answered, and his mouth was so dry it came out in a croak. "He was…the bastard raped him."

The gasp was little more than a squeak.

Erik shook his head in short, tight movements, clenching his eyes shut to ward off tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't get there in time. I didn't know. He was still drugged; he couldn't…get through to me in time. I couldn't stop it. I was too late. I'm sorry…"

When he opened his eyes Moira's hands were clamped over her mouth, and she'd pressed herself into the door.

"Moira…?"

She was leaning heavily into the door behind her, and he was glad she'd chosen that to hold her up because it was likely doing a much better job than he would right now.

"Oh god," she choked.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't do it," she gasped angrily. Moira sobbed. "God…Charles…" She forced back her own tears, and her jaw clenched. "Who? Who did this? Where is he?"

"He's dead."

She looked at him sharply. "He's—what?"

"Dead," Erik admitted quietly.

Moira stared at him, and he wished he weren't so readable, and usually he wasn't—he never had been before—but when it came to Charles…

"Oh." It was soft, and it was all she said, but he knew she'd gathered that the man's death was his doing. She didn't protest.

They were both quiet for so long after that that Erik wondered if they were going to say anything else at all. Moira cried, soundlessly, but she seemed to wish to be left alone. Erik stayed where he was, near if needed but not intruding, and respected that.

"Does he know you've told me?" she asked at length.

After the amount of time the room had been silent, Erik blinked in surprise at her voice. "He...he knew he couldn't tell you himself," he answered roughly.

Moira nodded stiffly, still leaning heavily on the wall. "You said something…that he was trying to protect me…but how was keeping this from me for the past month and a half protecting me? Even if he couldn't tell me himself…he could have talked to me, even if it wasn't to tell me. Even if he couldn't tell me he didn't have to cut me off again. I don't understand…"

Erik shook his head. "I don't know. All I know is that he thought it was better for you. He thought—I don't know what he thought, exactly. What he thinks. I used to think I knew, but since this happened…" He let out a breath. "But you know that he wouldn't have done it if he didn't think it was what was best for you. No matter what this may have changed, it could never change that."

"What?" she asked weakly.

"That he loves you."

Moira looked him in the eyes, as if just to be sure he was completely serious. After a moment she seemed to find what she was looking for in him, and she slowly began to look less deflated. It made Erik feel a bit better, too, to see that, and he wondered if maybe it wasn't just Moira. If maybe there were other humans like her—better than the rest of then. Than the ones that had made the decisions to lock away the mutants trapped here. Better than the ones that were causing the suffering here.

After all, if Shaw—a mutant—could be worse than Stryker, than every human here…Erik supposed it stood to reason that humans could be good.

He only wished he knew more like Moira that could back up that theory. But there were none, of course, to be found here. And the only other humans like that he had known were dead now. They had given birth to him.

Moira finally straightened against the wall, using it less for support though she was still shivering just a bit. "I have to talk to him…if he won't contact me his way I'll have to do it our way. I'll have to get into the infirmary."

Erik's eyebrows climbed. "I do think you two need to talk, but I don't know if that—"

"I have to," she said quickly. "If that's what happened, and he won't talk to me now…I can only imagine what's going through his head. I have to talk to him. I need to see him. There are things he has to know. I—"

"Okay! All right…you don't have to convince me."

Moira quieted, some of the urgency going out of her. "You'll help me?"

He didn't have to think about it for long. As long as Charles thought that what had happened meant he couldn't or shouldn't be with Moira, he would be miserable, and as much as Charles had done for Erik he knew he had to do anything he could to fix that.

"I'll help you."

More days passed, and Charles didn't know how well his recovery was going but he knew that no one showed much concern. That had to mean something, anyway. Or he hoped it did, because he certainly was not going to get any information any other way. No one told him anything. He stayed strapped to the hospital bed, except for when they wanted him to try to eat something, and when he did that there was a guard at the door.

But beyond meals when he was unrestrained, they left the straps around his wrists, ankles, and forearms, and no one worried much about him. He was catheterized, and the IVs provided medication and what nutrition he didn't get out of what food he could keep down, so apparently they didn't see a need to keep a close eye on him. Occasionally a nurse came to check up on him, and that and the guard outside his door when he ate was all he had of human contact for what seemed like forever.

In truth it hadn't been even a week, but only being able to speak to Raven and Erik and Jean telepathically was wearing on him. He hadn't been separated from Raven like this since those first months in their hexagonal cells at the other base. The few times they had kept him in the labs for days at a time didn't quite count; he had usually been in too much pain or too far out of it to contact her at all or to care that he couldn't. And after only just getting Erik back as himself, it was grating not to be able to see him, and Jean…well, he worried about her. He shouldn't—she could handle herself—but she was so young. He missed them terribly, though the approaching escape attempt comforted him some.

Raven kept him updated on the others. They were fine, but anxious to have this place behind them. She and Hank were looking forward to not being separated for the better part of every day, Sean was eager to experiment with whether or not his powers could indeed lead to some sort of flight, and Logan planned to find his brother. Darwin was debating whether to stay with the rest of them or go back to driving a cab, which he had enjoyed immensely; he liked the people. Charles was glad that being here had not completely tempered the young man's trust of the stranger on the street.

They were all concerned for him, Raven said, and he could feel her worry, but he assured her he would be fine. And from what he could skim from the minds of the nurses that came in to check on him, he would be. In time. He had been right about the broken rib; it was just the one. Two or three more were cracked, and the rest bruised, and moving was not fun. But again, all he really needed was time. He didn't want to distract his sister or the rest of them from the light at the end of the tunnel that they were finally seeing.

His conversations with Erik were different—strategy until they drifted off on a tangent, of which there were many. Charles never brought up what had happened the day he woke here in the infirmary, and Erik never mentioned anything about Moira either. It seemed both of them had decided to pretend that that argument never happened, and Charles refused to intrude into Moira's mind to find out if Erik had indeed told her anything or not.

It was easier to ignore it, and not to know. So he didn't know.

Until the night he woke and she was standing beside him.

Charles woke from the recently unfamiliar sensation of a hand on his shoulder, and a voice that was soft and calling his name and not brusquely ordering him to sit up and eat or lie down again to be restrained. His eyes flickered open and Moira was there, at his shoulder, not smiling exactly but there.

"Moira? What are you doing here? If someone sees you—"

"There isn't a camera, and at night your only guard is an orderly. It's not as if you're going anywhere," she said, picking unhappily at the restraining strap around his wrist.

"An orderly would be just as likely to report seeing you as a guard would."

She pulled a small empty syringe from her pocket for a moment and then put it back. "Taken care of."

"Moira!"

"He was already asleep; he'll never know I helped him stay that way. And Erik is keeping watch outside, if you must know."

Charles blinked. "Erik." He huffed. "Of course he is." He let his head drop back onto the thin pillows. "You still shouldn't be here." Erik was going to pay for this. Whether he'd told her or not, Charles could tell already tell that he'd given her too much hope. It would only hurt her.

"Why not?"

He looked at her, trying to decide if she knew. But if Erik was helping her do this safely—come to see him—then it was all but a sure thing that she did. Something shifted in her face as he looked at him, and he was sure then.

"He told you."

Moira swallowed. "He did. That doesn't answer the question."

"Doesn't it?"

From picking at the strap around his wrist she reach for his hand, but Charles curled his fingers into his palms out of reflex. Or fear, maybe. He wished he knew.

Moira tried to cover the hurt on her face, but he saw it anyway.

"No it doesn't," she said quietly. And the hand already on his shoulder tightened a bit. "I still love you, you know."

"I wish that made more of a difference." His chest ached quite a bit more than usual at the moment.

"Why wouldn't it? Isn't that all that matters? Charles, I don't care what happened to you. We can get through it. You know I'll be here for you."

"I know that; that isn't what I mean. It was only at the beginning that I thought you might not—I was foolish. I was upset."

"Then what are you talking about now?"

He didn't know how to tell her that. He couldn't explain the fear and darkness that twisted inside him whenever he remembered, unwillingly, that night in the yard. On the concrete. Against the pole, his attacker's weight trapping him in place—

Charles pulled in a quick breath, the sharp pain in his ribs snapping him out of it.

"Charles?"

"I'm sorry, I—Moira, you don't understand…"

"I know I don't. I know I can't understand what you went through, but I want to be here to help. I'm still coming with you."

"No. You aren't."

She scowled at him. "You can't tell me what I can or can't do, Charles."

"You shouldn't. You have a place here that you can keep."

"It isn't a place I want."

"Then request a transfer. Go somewhere else. Start over."

"Not without you! What is wrong with you, Charles? We had already decided that we could do this. I was coming with the rest of you when you left here. We were going to be fine. We were going to have what we wanted, even if it had to be on the run. It didn't have to be perfect. It still doesn't have to be perfect."

Charles was losing the battle to keep his eyes dry. "When I gave in before, when I stopped trying to keep you from coming with us I did it because I thought we could have a life together. I thought once we were out of this place I could make you happy, somehow. I thought we would be all right."

"What's changed?" she demanded.

He swallowed. "Me."

Moira was blinking now, too. "You can't tell me that you don't love me anymore," she whispered.

"No," he said quickly. "Of course I love you. I always will, but that…it isn't enough."

"Why? What makes it not enough? It was enough before. It was enough to risk everything we've risked since all of this started. " Her other hand curled over his even though it wouldn't open for her, clutching desperately even as she tried to seem still in control.

Charles had to take a deep breath or two before he could continue—or breaths as deep as he could get right now without too much pain. This was the conversation he had never wanted to have, but she was here now and he couldn't avoid her and oh god, he loved her. It hurt. It hurt so badly the burn in his chest was nothing.

"You don't understand," he said slowly. "I don't think I could make you happy the way I wanted to. I'm…I may love you just as much as I always did, but I'm not…the same. I'm…damaged."

"You're still you. You want to help people. You would rather do what's best for everyone other than yourself."

"But at the same time I can't walk through a crowd of those people I want to help without jumping if one of them brushes my arm," Charles growled bitterly.

"It won't always be that way."

"It might be."

"I don't believe that."

"Not wanting to believe it doesn't make it any less possible."

She was frowning again. "You're being ridiculous. I am not abandoning you just because it isn't going to be easy. It wasn't going to be easy even before this. I know there's a lot that you'll have to work through—we'll have to work through. But I was expecting that anyway. After everything they've done to you…"

Charles shook his head because she still didn't understand, though that was his fault. He hadn't been able to explain the rest yet.

"What?" she asked, frustrated.

His hand twitched under her fingers, the touch sending a shiver up his arm even though he hadn't responded to it. He couldn't. He didn't deserve it anymore. Not when he couldn't give her what she deserved.

"Moira…I can't," he said softly. "I can't give you what you should have out of a relationship. Not everything, not…not now. Not yet. I-It's just, it would be too much. Right now. Likely for a quite a while. I don't know if I'll ever—"

"You will. You'll be fine. I know it's going to take time, but—" The hand on his shoulder moved to his cheek, and he pulled away without thinking.

A rough hand on his face, pulling his head around by force, an unnatural angle that hurt, the pinch in his neck searing while a hard mouth pressed over his, stealing his breath and biting and plundering. A harsh laugh in his ear once the unwelcome lips were gone, too close, always too close. Unable to catch his breath even though he was perfectly capable of pulling in air.

Why? Why could his sister touch him, or even Erik, but Moira only wanted to love him and her touch sent his mind back to places he didn't want to be? It certainly wasn't as if her touch was similar at all. Or the intent. It was that he still felt dirty. She didn't touch him the way Raven or Erik did, only out of friendship. That was there, buts he wanted more. She wanted him to be hers. She touched him and he couldn't help but remember why she shouldn't want to. Because he knew she loved him and he didn't want to feel this way, tainted, but he did. It was all he could put a finger on.

"I'm sorry," he said, because she was beginning to look hurt again. He knew she was trying not to let it get to her, trying to understand, just as Erik had spent so much time that first night trying to, but it still hurt her. Charles knew it did. He'd known it would, and that was what he'd wanted to spare her.

She pulled her hands back quickly—both of them—and shook her head, and finally she seemed to begin to comprehend what he'd been trying to tell her. "N-no, no, I'm sorry. I should have asked…he warned me…"

He raised one eyebrow a bit. "Erik?" She nodded, and he hummed in understanding.

"This is what I've been talking about," he said sadly, and she nodded again. It took some time before she spoke up, after taking a deep breath that wasn't quite steady.

"I'm sorry. I think….I was hoping that it wasn't as bad as Erik seemed to think it might be. I was hoping you were just…overreacting, not talking to me. I was hoping it wouldn't be too long before we were out of here and we could work it out and we could be…I don't know. Normal? I know that's stupid. We'll never be quite that."

"You could be. If you wanted to be," he offered.

She gave him a weak smile. "I would never be happy that way, and you know it. I've been in love with a mutant for too long."

It was an awfully pitiful attempt at a joke, but he supposed he appreciated that she'd tried. However, it didn't help.

"But you understand what I mean now?"

"I know what you mean. I don't understand."

"But—"

"I understand that it's going to take a lot of time for you. But is that really all you're worried about? How long it will take before there can be anything physical in our relationship again? How long it might take you to recover?"

"It isn't the only thing. But I suppose that is one of the largest parts, yes."

She let out a breath of disbelief. "Charles…that doesn't matter."

"It will. Later. I have no doubt of how much you care, and I know you would be perfectly happy for a while, without it, but at some point you'll want more, and if I can't give it to you…" The tears were threatening him again, and it took every bit of willpower he had to keep them at bay. He couldn't do that now. It wouldn't help her to understand the way it had to be if he showed that much weakness over the decision. "It would hurt much more later than now."

"What would? Saying it's over?" Still disbelief, but he couldn't reply to that and her face quickly began to show that she realized he was serious.

"No. Damnit, Charles; you can't do this to me. What the hell does that even mean? You aren't willing to take a chance?"

"Not if it hurts you."

Moira huffed angrily. "If it's about me, then why don't you let me make my own decisions?"

Charles swallowed, wishing he could give in. "I'm only trying to—"

"Protect me. I know that." She leaned closer, but she respected what she knew now and she didn't try to touch him again. He knew what would happen if she tried, but when she didn't something ached in him anyway. "So stop. You can't protect me. I don't want you to protect me. I want you."

"But…but what if I can't…ever…"

"I think you're stronger than you think you are," she told him softly. "I think you'll be fine. It may take a while, but I think you will be. And shouldn't we try? After everything you've been through don't you deserve to be happy?"

He had to blink again, longer, before he could answer her, and even then his throat was still threatening to close. "I don't know how long it would take to get there." It came out a whisper.

"I don't care."

Charles wanted to listen to her. He wanted to believe they could do it. He wanted to. But the thought of hurting her any more than she was already hurting was too difficult to bear. "I…I can't. I mean…I don't know…"

"Charles…"

"I don't know! I don't know…I'm sorry…"

"Charles." She was pleading now.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" His chest was heaving without the tears, and it hurt because of his ribs, and it hurt because he couldn't breath because he didn't want to be pushing Moira away.

What the hell had Erik been thinking getting her in here?

For long moments it seemed as if Moira would cry, and it cut into him even though it hadn't happened yet, but then she didn't. There was one dry sob and she composed herself. There were more long seconds of silence after that, and Charles couldn't look at her. He stared at the ceiling instead.

"I'm still coming with you," she said finally. The words and those that followed came out stiffly, forced and coated in suppressed anger and pain, but firm. Unyielding. "I can't stay here, and I can't work for the CIA anywhere else. Not when they condoned a place like this. I'm done with this life, Charles. I can't live a lie anymore. I may not be a mutant, but you and Erik and the others are more of a family to me than anything or anyone else I have left. So unless you plan to stop me yourself I'm coming with you. There doesn't have to be anything else—you never have to speak to me again if it's easier for you that way—but I'm getting out of here too."

Charles let his eyes close, because he certainly couldn't look at her now. Some of the tears found a way to squeeze out, and as much as he'd fought them strangely enough the only thought about it he could muster up was a realization of and frustration over the fact that he couldn't wipe them away with his wrists restrained.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

He felt her looking at him, and she only said one more thing before she left. Her voice broke when she said it.

"Me too."

The look on Moira's face when she came out of the infirmary told Erik everything he needed to know about what had happened in there, and yet not enough at the same time.

"It didn't go well?" he asked. She'd stopped beside him, though she wasn't looking at him, and she shook her head.

"Sorry…"

"It isn't your fault."

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked honestly, because it looked as if Moira were trying rather hard to hold herself together at the moment. But she shook her head again.

"Just make sure I know when we're leaving."

Erik blinked. "You're…?"

"I'm still coming. It doesn't have to be for him; I'm leaving for me," she told him stiffly. Her expression softened only briefly, when she finally looked at him. "Thank you for helping me." Then she was gone.

Erik thought about leaving then himself, but he didn't know what condition Charles was in, and he couldn't simply leave. Maybe it wasn't the safest thing to do, but with the orderly still out on his desk anyway…

He found Charles with his gaze firmly fixed on the ceiling, and his focus didn't waver when Erik came in.

"I just made it worse, didn't I?" Erik asked after a minute or two.

"Yes," Charles said flatly. But his voice was tired, and when he continued the words were more forgiving. "You were trying to help. I suppose I can't blame you for that."

Erik closed the distance to his friend's side, and noted the drying tears on Charles's face. "What happened?"

He shook his head stubbornly. "It doesn't matter. I really have lost her now, in any case."

"Not necessarily. I think she'd come around quickly enough if you changed your mind. That is what's going on here, isn't it?" The silence answered him. "Never mind."

Charles shifted in the bed, maybe trying to get more comfortable even though he couldn't move much, and seeing the straps grated on Erik's temper. It didn't help, either, when Charles gave a small gasp of pain and tried to cover it with an exceedingly fake yawn.

Erik forced back the anger because it wasn't what was needed now, and he shook his head. "You really haven't changed, you know." With that he reached to gently scrub away the lingering tear tracks because his friend couldn't do it himself, and Charles's gaze finally shifted down to give him a strange look.

"What are you doing?" he asked faintly.

"The only thing it looks like I can do here to make up for this," Erik answered quietly, before Charles's face was dry and he pulled his arm back.

Charles swallowed. "You don't have to make up for anything."

"I don't mind."

"Oh…" There was quiet, and then he spoke up again. "Then do you think you might mind very terribly doing a bit more of it?" His voice was so small then that Erik's eyebrows went up in worry. But Charles was looking at him, so he shook his head. He wouldn't mind.

Charles let himself cry.

Raven had been assured over and over that her brother was all right—or would be—and she tried to listen to him and not worry overly much, but it was difficult. If it weren't for Hank she would be failing even more miserably.

That was why she panicked when Hank was nowhere to be found at the morning meal the next day.

With Charles still in the infirmary it couldn't have anything to do with Cerebro—thank goodness—but if it didn't then Hank's absence could only mean one thing.

Chapter Text

It was another two days before Charles was released from the infirmary, and when he was released it was done unceremoniously. A nurse came in to remove the straps and detach him from any remaining medical equipment, and gave him clothes. A guard came behind her to tell him to dress, and not to take forever about it, and then drew back out to the hall to wait.

It was hard to put even the simple clothes on, on his own. Everything still ached so much. At least the zippers on the jumpsuits were in the front; with the slowly healing ribs he'd have had a time trying to reach around behind. He had to lower himself to the floor by the wall to pull the shoes on—the infirmary bed was just high enough that hauling himself back onto its edge would have been too painful, too jarring—but once the shoes were on his feet he couldn't get up again. The guard found him there, coming in out of frustration at having been kept waiting too long.

Trying to explain would have been useless; Charles didn't try.

The large man pulled him easily to his feet, and it hurt, but he bit down on the insides of his cheeks and kept any sounds at bay other than a sharp breath. It was only the one guard who prodded him from the room, and back toward the cells, and there was no bothering with restraints. Apparently they had deemed him too weak for there to be any threat of resistance. Obligingly, he didn't make trouble. This close to the end of all this—with any luck—he certainly didn't need more trouble now.

He remembered to alert Raven that they were coming, and she was waiting at the door when it opened. Charles stepped willingly inside and waited to hear the door close behind him. Only then did he let himself slump against the wall, and Raven let him catch his breath before hugging him gently.

"I really, really hate you right now," she mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"For almost dying on me, damn you."

The words were sincere, but much tighter than usual, and Charles frowned as she helped him over to his bunk. He could walk on his own, but it was painful, he'd discovered on the way here, and he was grateful for the help. She lowered him to the edge of the bunk and he pushed himself back against the wall, wincing as his joints twinged in protest along with what was left of the pain in his chest and stomach. He'd been held nearly immobile for most of the long hours of the last few days; his muscles and joints had fallen a bit out of use.

Charles rested for a moment, before he said anything. He watched Raven, who was already back up and pacing when normally she would have been at his side after he returned from anywhere here.

"Raven, what's wrong?"

She stopped, and looked down at herself as if she hadn't realized until now that she was on her feet again. She sat down abruptly, but she was quiet.

"Raven."

She shook her head and reached to close a hand over one of his. "I've been worried about you." She swallowed. "You were in so much pain when they carted you off; god, I was afraid I was losing you…"

Charles winced; his memories of the latter part of that night—the part she was talking about—were still extremely foggy, but he knew what she meant. "That isn't what I mean. There's something else." Raven…something's wrong. Tell me. Please.

Her fingers squeezed his harder, and she looked away. "We haven't seen Hank in almost three days."

He knew what that meant. Everyone here knew that when someone disappeared for a time it meant the labs.

"What? Why didn't you tell me? I could have—"

"All you could have done was tell me what we already know," she answered, almost bitterly. Not bitterness at him, but at everything else. It only made everything in him ache more fiercely to hear that from her. "I mean, I know he'll come back. He'll be…okay, I mean…"

"But you don't want him there any more than you've ever wanted me there," Charles filled in quietly.

She nodded weakly, but she stopped in mid-motion, released his hand and stood again, letting out a loud sound of frustration. "And I can't do anything! I can't ever do anything! All I do here is sit around and worry!" she railed, at no-one in particular. Though it did, eventually, shift to him. "I'm useless! I can't even understand exactly what you and so many of the others are going through, because you protect me too much! Don't think I don't know you do it. I'm not stupid; I know that's the only way I've avoided the labs myself this long."

"Raven…"

She held up a hand. "I'm not mad at you. You should know that. I just…I'm so damn tired of this place. I'm tired of not being able to do anything."

Charles's eyebrows went up. "You do quite enough. I certainly wouldn't have made it through the last two years at all if it weren't for you. To be rather honest, I think you've done much more for me since this began than I have been able to do for you."

Raven's shoulders slumped at that, and she shrugged and crawled onto the bed beside him. But beyond the brush of her shoulder against his, she didn't touch him, or lean on him like she often did, perhaps wary of putting any pressure on him due to his sore chest.

"It's not like I mind," she said quietly. "Even if I didn't love you so much, I should pay you back for everything you did for me when we were younger, anyway."

"You don't have to."

"I know…" She trailed off and her eyes filled, and she looked away stubbornly.

"You're worried about him."

Raven let out a short bark of pained laughter. "Of course I am. We just established that worrying is what I'm good at, didn't we?" She swiped at her eyes angrily, and Charles caught one of her wrists and gently pulled her to him.

"Come here." He guided her head to his lap, the way he'd done when they were little and she was still a small girl just learning how to not be afraid of the world. In the beginning she couldn't sleep in the room they'd given her on her own. The space and bed and everything else was so much bigger than anything she was used to. It echoed. The house echoed. She was glad to not be alone, but everything was big and dark and for the first few weeks she would retreat to Charles room once the lights were out, and this was how he'd managed to get her to sleep.

Charles started to give her the memory before he found he didn't need to; she was already there, curling up and settling beside him just the way she had so many times in the past. It did him good, to see her relax after so many months watching her try to be so strong. She'd taken over his role of the older sibling, really, since that first time they saw each other after being taken into custody, and it was high time he took it back.

Not because he needed to, for anything like pride, but because she needed him to. After so long, she needed the rest. Now that they were so close to being free of this place, he would truly be able to give it to her soon enough. And, for now, he could give her at least this.

That and…maybe he needed to feel like he was doing some good, rather than hurting someone. The way he'd hurt Moira, even though he hadn't wanted to. He hadn't heard from her, Erik hadn't mentioned her since then, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out to her, to bother her—not after what he'd had to tell her.

Charles stroked his sister's hair a bit, the way she seemed so fond of doing for him. He'd done it often enough, those night sin the past when they were small. Maybe that was where she'd gotten it.

"Go to sleep," he urged her. It was late afternoon now, and they wouldn't be going anywhere else today. "I'll make sure Hank is all right."

Raven hesitated, but after a moment she nodded against his leg and let herself rest.

He didn't contact Hank until she was asleep. He made excuses to himself, but really it was because he didn't want her to be awake and watching him if he found that something were wrong. He wouldn't be able to hide that.

I'm sorry, my friend. I would have checked on you much sooner, but no one told me that you were missing until now. Are you all right? I know that question is a bit ridiculous in this situation, but…

No…I'm all right. I mean…I've been better, but it hasn't been…crazy. Or anything. I really don't know what they're doing. I could hazard a better guess than a lot of people could, maybe, but I can't really see much strapped to a table.

Right…well…

I'm fine, Charles. God knows you been through a lot worse; I can stand to be poked and prodded and little. Okay, a lot, but…whatever.

Charles let out a breath. You haven't any idea what they might be up to?

They make a point of not whispering to each other within earshot. That came out almost amused, and Charles let him be assured that he would be all right.

He fell asleep with Raven still in his lap, and they woke up the next morning in the same sort of tumbled heap they'd become used to as children. It left him stiff and sore, but Charles didn't mind. As long as his sister had gotten enough rest, and free of too much worry. He told her what he'd heard of Hank the night before, and that helped, too.

"You keeping comin' back looking worse'n when you left," Logan commented at breakfast later. "You ought to quit that."

"With any luck all of this will end soon. Very soon." That helped the general mood.

Erik contacted him later, with news that made things even more hopeful.

Stryker will be gone for two or three days next week…some report he has to make in person.

Wonderful, Charles marveled. That will be the perfect time to go.

They won't take action against us as quickly…not without him to bark orders at them. And with him getting ready for his report, he won't have time to bother you before he leaves. Hopefully he won't have time to bother anyone.

Amen. Charles was quiet for a moment, before he answered. He could feel the warring emotions in his friend, and he wanted to say something to them. I know that you, personally, would rather Stryker be here when we do this. Thank you for suggesting the alternative anyhow.

It's better tactically…that's all.

I know. But months ago you still would not have suggested it. You would have let your need for revenge rule you, and I'm glad that you aren't now. You've changed. I would say I'm proud of you, but that might sound a bit to too parental.

Erik snorted inwardly. The amusement reached him, but even though he had been able to make the right choice Charles knew that part of him was still unhappy with it. That was all right, as long as he was doing the right thing. It was still a victory.

Just promise me we'll find them. Him and Shaw both. You said you could make sure they'll never hurt anyone again.

As soon as I've my strength back, yes. It may take some time to find them again—Shaw, especially—but we will. I promise. I know we can't leave them to their own devices.

That quieted Erik enough, and the rest of the day passed without incident but for the fact that Hank still did not return. He didn't return the next two days, either.

Charles tried to check on him each night, and each night he was fine, but that last night he did not get a response. Only the pressure of confused emotions, and…he didn't understand. He didn't know what to make of it, and it worried him, and he didn't sleep much.

He said nothing to Raven.

Charles seemed worried by something the next morning, but he didn't say anything to her. Raven decided not to prod him about it—part of her afraid she knew what it was—but when they walked into the cafeteria that morning and Charles stopped in his tracks she couldn't ignore it anymore.

"What?" She had to pull him out of the way to keep him from being jarred by those coming in behind them, and he barely noticed. His face was working through an indecipherable mix of emotions, and he finally settled on…unreadable. Great.

"Over here," he said. He still walked stiffly, still a bit hunched over and with a hand to his side, usually, but he tried not to need her help anymore. If they really were going to be out of here within the week he would still need help then—he wasn't nearly fast enough yet, of course—but for walking normal speeds he was relatively all right now.

She followed him warily. "What is it?"

Charles glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but not more. His mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. He squeezed her hand and paused in walking, and her breath caught in her throat before he'd even said anything.

"Hank is here," he said.

Raven glanced toward their usual table automatically, and Logan and Sean and Darwin were there, but no Hank.

"Wh…?"

"This way."

Charles said it too gently. She knew something was wrong.

"Charles…?"

"He's all right, it's just… I can't explain. I don't know how to. I'm sorry."

They were coming to the edge of the room, the corner really, and all that was there was a nearly empty table that wasn't often used. Only one mutant was there now, back to them, but Charles was looking at him and Raven didn't understand why. It wasn't Hank. The mutant hunched at the table was covered in blue fur under his jumpsuit.

And then Charles looked at her and looked wordlessly back to the mutant at the table, and that was when she saw the black plastic arms of the horn-rimmed glasses buried in the fur.

"Hank?" It came out in a gasp, and the blue shoulders flinched.

All of them were silent for a while after that.

"Turns out they were trying to enhance the mutant cells in my body…or that's the result they got, anyway." The voice was Hank's, but a little deeper. A little rougher. Not from emotion—well, that too—but just because it was that way. Now. He held up a hand that was now much more like a paw, though still with the usual number of fingers and thumb, and he stared at it. "Whatever it was, it worked all right."

Raven swallowed, and after another moment she went to lower herself to the bench beside him, though facing out instead of in. Still, she could look at him, but it didn't matter yet because he wouldn't look up. He didn't look up, either, when Charles came closer and squeezed his shoulder for a moment.

Then Charles left them alone.

"Are you going to stare at that table all day?" Raven asked eventually.

Hank shrugged. "I was thinking about it."

"Stop thinking about it."

He snorted, and finally he looked up.

Raven felt her eyebrows hit her hairline. She could still see her Hank there, but the features if his face had been fit into something more feline-looking, and his eyes were yellow now, much like hers.

Actually, she kind of liked it. All of it. She would miss the blue eyes and the floppy hair, the face she was used to, but there was nothing wrong with this.

"What?" he asked testily.

She realized she was smiling, and quickly schooled her features. "Sorry…"

"Is it that bad?"

"Not at all. You're kinda cute. But then you were always cute."

Hank scowled and looked away again, but at least he wasn't looking down. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"I'm not lying. Why would I lie to you?"

"To make me feel better," he repeated.

She caught the side of his face in her hand and made him look back at her, and the softness of the fur was surprising. "No. I'm not lying to you."

She let her hand drop, and he huffed a bit. "Fine, so I'm not grotesque. Good for me. I'm still…covered in fur. I don't look remotely human anymore. I—" He stopped when he realized she was looking at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"This is me you're talking to," she pointed out.

Hank fish-mouthed for a moment, and she could swear he was blushing even though that wasn't exactly possible anymore. What with the blue. She knew how that went. "Sorry." He looked away again, and when he spoke this time he stammered just the way he always used to, before he was confident, before being here so long, the way she remembered fondly because it had always been so irresistibly adorable. She still loved him without it, of course, but she'd sort of missed it.

"I-I just mean…you didn't—didn't sign up for…this…" He was looking at his hands again, the fur and, yes, claws. They were short, but they were claws.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He grimaced painfully, and he still couldn't look at her, and worse than before suddenly Raven couldn't breath at all, because she knew what he was going to say.

It came out in barely a whisper, miserably and tiredly. Like he'd spent too much time thinking about it, resigning himself to it. "I mean I would understand if you…didn't want to…I mean…I mean we don't have to…"

"Stop!" And before Hank could protest, she took his blue furry face in her hands and kissed him. He tried to pull away at first, but she held onto him, and he surrendered.

It was different, but it was still Hank. His lips were constructed differently, and they had to figure that out, but it brought more giggles than anything as Hank realized that she sure as hell was not going to abandon him.

"I love you, okay?" she whispered.

"I…I love you, too." Hank, as always, was shyer to say it, but she knew he meant it.

"Hey," Raven grinned, and held her arm up next to his. "We're color-coordinated now."

He laughed a little. "I guess I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Think of it that way. It's more fun." She sat and looked at him for a moment, and this time he looked back steadily. "You know," she said finally, "it suits you." She wrapped her fingers around of his arms, which were larger now, his shoulders wider. She felt the muscle. "You always had all of that raw strength thanks to your mutation, and it seemed kind of silly that it was only your feet where it showed. Maybe this is who you were supposed to be all along."

Hank smiled a little. "You think so?"

"Maybe." Then she leaned in to kiss him again, not caring if anyone was watching, and it didn't matter to either of them for now.

Charles felt the warmth from across the room, at the table with the others. He felt his sister's happiness, and Hank's relief, and when he glanced back he saw them in each other's arms. He saw them kissing, blind to any care of being watched, and…

He was more than happy for them. He was relieved beyond words that the unexpected change in Hank had not become any sort of setback for them. They were not going to let it change anything between them; they would be fine, and Charles was glad that his sister was happy.

But…but…

Watching them, he was ever more aware that the same was not true for himself and Moira. He was thinking of her now, and he couldn't stop and it hurt. It hurt quite a lot. God, he wished they could do the same. He wished he could take her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right, but he would have trouble just with the first part.

Not because he didn't want her in his arms, but because he wouldn't be able to have her there without remembering things he didn't want to remember—without feeling dirty, and exposed, and unworthy.

It wasn't as if he wanted to let her go. He didn't. God, he didn't. But it was the only right thing to do. Wasn't it? To let her move on and find someone else, who could take care of her and give her what she needed. What she deserved.

Charles didn't know if he would ever be able to do that.

"Hey. You okay?"

It was Sean, and Charles blinked quickly before glancing at him. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He nodded and got to his feet. "I uhm…I'm going to check on the children. I'll be back."

"Yeah, okay…"

He made sure his eyes were dry before he got there, and when the children swarmed him none of them noticed a thing. Except, of course, for Jean. They guided him to a bench and she was the one to climb into his lap.

"You're sad again."

"I'm all right, Jean…"

"But you're sad."

Charles sighed. "Maybe a little." Maybe a lot. Maybe his heart felt as if it were in a few billion small pieces.

Jean hugged him—gently—but when she pulled back she didn't press the issue. He had admitted it; that was enough for her. He had told her many times that simply being there was all she could really do for him, and she had actually listened to him.

Instead, she rested a hand on his chest now and looked up at him again with those wide eyes. "Does it still hurt a lot?"

He had to smile at her concern, and like it usually did when he was here with Jean and the other children, the sadness began to fade into the background. "Not as much as it did."

"You feel better now?"

"I'm getting there." Physically, at least.

"Good."

There was a fresh outburst from the children, and Charles turned to see that Logan had followed him here. But the children were responding as if he were familiar, and Charles raised an eyebrow in question.

Logan shrugged as he lifted a young boy to his shoulders. "What? You were gone for a while again. I mean Raven was here, but somebody had to help her make sure the kids were okay." The children seemed to like him quite a bit, and he could play with them, too, which was good; Charles hadn't been in good enough shape to do much with them for a while now.

"I see…it seems I am in your debt once again, my friend. Thank you."

"Don't sweat it." He moved over toward the next table with the children that were clinging to him, and when Charles looked back to Jean she was watching Logan and grinning.

"I like Logan. He's nice. He's all big and stuff, but he's really nice."

Charles chuckled. "Don't get too attached, now; he's a bit old for you."

Jean just giggled.

"Please tell me we're doing this while Stryker is gone."

"That was the general idea," Erik confirmed. He and Moira were in the corridor, not hiding but walking at an average pace that should keep them from drawing attention. Their voices were pitched low, but everyone did that here; it was automatic, as much as the hallways echoed. They wouldn't seem out of place. "I just hope that's soon enough; I don't like the kinds of things I've been hearing the last couple of days."

"Crowding in the cell blocks? Ways to fix that? I've heard it, too," Moira scowled, arms crossed. "We've been assuming Stryker won't have time to do anything stupid before he leaves, but what if he wants something to report?"

"That's what I'm worried about," Erik agreed.

"How are we doing this, anyway? Getting out of here. It's close enough now; can't you tell me?"

She knew the date: the night after Stryker was to leave. Charles and Raven's friends knew, too, and Charles was preparing to let the mutant population of the facility know soon, to prepare them for the escape.

It wasn't going to be easy.

You know we won't be able to do this without bloodshed, don't you? Erik had told him. Even without Stryker here they'll figure out what's happening at some point. Someone will sound the alarm and they'll be shooting at us. There are too many of us and we'll be too spread out, especially by the end, for me to protect everyone, especially if they come in close. People are going to die. And if you don't want us to be purposely killing any of THEM, the casualties will be mostly ours. It had been days ago, and Charles had sighed inwardly.

I know…that's why we'll need to be quiet about it for as long as we can—do it at night, knocking the guards out as we go along. I know that won't last forever, but we haven't any better choice. And if I can give everyone a bit of warning before it happens, we'll know what sort of other help we might have. I'm sure there are others here with defensive abilities that might be useful on a large scale.

I hope so.

"You'll see," Erik said now. "Don't feel left out; Charles and Raven's friends still don't know the details, either."

"Still playing it safe, then?"

"Essentially. It isn't necessarily my style, but it is the best thing to do in this situation."

She seemed to understand the point, and she was quiet then. Especially here, it was much better safe than sorry. Maybe Stryker was no longer suspicious of Erik or any escape plans—maybe he even liked Erik to some extent now, after what he'd done to Charles last week—but there was no reason for unnecessary risks. On the contrary, Erik had been attempting to cultivate Stryker's burgeoning appreciation for him for days now, trying to make the man comfortable so he wouldn't see his awful world coming down around him.

It was working, to some extent. He told Erik more now. What Erik couldn't do was temper the agent's contempt for Charles, and that would be dangerous if they were to stay here much longer. He was glad they weren't.

"I think Stryker wanted to see me this morning. We'd better part here. Don't worry abut anything; just be ready that night. We'll find you."

Moira nodded and moved off, and Erik continued around another corner or too until he reached the main offices. When he pushed through the doors the door to Stryker's office was open, and the man was stalking about in the open common area, pacing. A small contingent of guards readied themselves nearby.

"Lehnsherr! Perfect timing."

Erik raised an eyebrow warily, making sure it only looked curious to Stryker. "Perfect timing for what?"

"We're taking care of our overpopulation problem. We have a backlog of coordinates, and nowhere to put new mutants if we found them. The higher-ups demanded something be done about it before I came to Washington for my report, and I can't tell them we just have to build a new facility. Not after how much this one cost. What's the point of keeping them all here, anyway? The largest portion of them are useless, not to mention dangerous."

Erik's blood ran cold. "What are you saying?" The past few days, all of the hushed meetings Stryker had had with the central staff, the department heads, all of the conference calls…

"We've been keeping detailed records, of course—a place this size can't run without them—and we know which mutants are useless as far as science is concerned, and which ones have been making too much trouble. That's about half the high security section, and almost forty percent of the general population. That ought to make plenty of room for now; we'll start putting them down tomorrow."

His head was spinning, and Erik had to force himself to breathe normally.

They weren't going to be able to wait until Stryker left next week. They were leaving tonight. Damnit, he had to keep his head until then! Stryker still couldn't be allowed to suspect anything. "Makes sense. What's this, then?" He nodded to the guard detail, and Stryker smirked.

"A preview. I have to admit, you did a pretty good work-over on Xavier the other day; after everything else recently, I figure one more good shove and he won't give us any more trouble. So we'll start with the sister. We're headed there as soon as their group gets back from the cafeteria. We have to wait until everyone else is back in the cells. We don't need a riot, after all; we're doing this whole thing quietly."

No. Oh god.

"What? Are you out of your mind? You can't kill the sister; he'll never cooperate again if you do that. She's supposed to be the bargaining chip, isn't she?"

"The way we've got Cerebro set up now, he doesn't have to cooperate for it to work. The pain keeps him too distracted to try to block it. We can tone it back some so it'll still work that way, but we won't kill him or anything. Granted, I've been told that if we do that he'll probably go blind, but that's not really important. With the girl gone, and no way to fight back against Cerebro, it'll break him for good. Might give the science department an easier time, too. The DOD will be happy if they can use him. See? Perfect solutions all around."

Stryker was looking at his watch, and the older man was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Or he would be, if he weren't too old and too large.

The bastard.

"About time to move. You coming?"

He shrugged. "Not interested. Enjoy yourself."

Erik shrugged and all but fled from the offices, but he found Moira out in the corridor about to burst in. Her mouth opened, and he covered it and dragged her around the corner before Stryker and the guards came out behind them. They made it out of sight just in time, and Moira bit his hand before he could let go.

"Ow! Damnit—"

"What are you doing! We have to stop them!"

"We can't stop them! Not here. Not in plain view of the offices and everyone in them. The alarm will be raised so fast you'll be seeing double, and it'll be a blood bath if we try to get out of here under those circumstances."

"We can't let them kill Raven! You know what that will do to Charles! Oh god, and he's just going to shoot her right in front of him, isn't he—"

"He won't, because Charles won't let him. He won't let anyone hurt her. He'll stop them, and we'll still have to move now, but we'll have a bit more of the element of surprise than if we'd confronted them here. I don't know just how much Charles has recovered or how much he can do at once, but I'm pretty sure he can knock out Stryker and his contingent and any other guards in their corridor—enough to keep the situation contained until we get to them."

"Until we get to them? Where are we going?"

Erik let out a breath. "We have a plan. An order. Start in the labs, then high security, then Charles and Raven on the top floor of the cell blocks and down from there. Getting everyone out, I mean. I don't see a reason not to follow that much of the plan."

Moira frowned at him in confusion. "How are we supposed to get everyone in the labs and high security out by ourselves?"

Erik reached out without looking, and pulled a few rivets out from the wall near the floor. They came to rest in his hand, and he held them up. "Like this."

She stared at them for a long moment, eyes wide, and then looked up at him again. "Metal. You're the plan," she said incredulously.

"Let's go. We don't have time to waist. Follow me and be quiet; I have to warn Charles."

It was nearly time to reach the cafeteria, and Charles was pulling Jean from his lap and standing when her eyes went wide and she quickly looked up at him.

"Uhm, I think you kinda need to talk to Erik," she said.

Charles frowned, but then he felt it too—the urgency and barely quelled panic. "Thank you," he told her. "Go on now." He sent her off with the other children, and followed Logan to Raven and Hank and the others, who were all meeting near the door to walk back toward the cells together. As he went he reached out to Erik, who was calling to him at the same moment.

Erik…?

Charles, we have to move. We have to leave. Now. Moira's with me, and we're headed for the labs. We'll try to keep this quiet as long as we can but we can't wait.

What? Why?

They're going to start executing the useless and the troublemakers. To make more room, so they don't have to build another facility. The bulk of it will begin tomorrow—

Then we should leave tonight—

But Stryker knows he can use this to break you. He's on his way to your corridor right now. As soon as everyone is back in their cells he's going to pay you a visit, and he's going to kill Raven. I know you'll stop him. But once you do, we'll have to move. We won't have a choice.

Charles stopped in his tracks, and when Raven leaned in to ask if he was all right he took her hand and squeezed it and he didn't let go. He made himself move, not wanting to cause a scene, but he could hardly breathe anymore.

Right now. They were doing this right now.

"Charles? What's going on?"

"We're leaving," he whispered.

Are you ready for this? Charles asked silently.

Erik answered immediately. I'm fine, but I could ask you the same thing. How much have your powers recovered? Are you strong enough?

I'll have to be.

Chapter Text

The heavy doors to the lab wing were just as Erik remembered them, but today no scientists milled in the monitoring room outside. Instead, there was a guard on either side of the open doors, and Erik made swift work of pulling their guns from their hands and using those guns to knock them out, all while still two dozen feet away. Moira helped him pull them into the monitoring room and shut the door.

How many? he thought.

Nine. Eight on the lower level, where the holding rooms are, and one in the lab across the corridor from where you found me when we met, Charles told him.

There were both stairs and an elevator immediately to their left, and Erik took the stairs down and motioned for Moira to follow him. It wasn't hard to find the lab wing's holding cells—it was all that was on the lower level. They were different than the regular cells, smaller and with bars and locks rather than remotely operated doors, and equipment that Erik decided he didn't want to know the purpose of…cells to hold those the scientists were in the process of performing experiments on when they weren't in one of the labs.

He tried not to think about how often Charles had probably been here in the past.

Moira seemed to be thinking the same; she did not look comfortable here at all. "Let's get these people out of here and get going," she said, voice pitched low.

Erik nodded curtly and followed the corridor to the end, where they found the last four cells on ether side occupied. Five of the eight shrunk back or cringed when they saw someone in the corridor, and the other three performed various versions of the stand-up-quickly-and-glare-a-lot. Erik just smirked and snapped away all eight locking mechanisms in two quick motions.

Still, even as the barred doors began to yawn open, all of them looked at him and Moira warily. Moira's office clothing probably didn't help.

"Come on," Erik said firmly. "We're getting out of here."

"Who the hell are you?" The one who growled it was a haggard teenage girl with an arm in a sling.

And that was when Charles got around to the general announcement he'd been planning for days, modified a bit for the current situation. Erik heard it, and from what Charles had told him earlier in the week every mutant on base was hearing it, too, but none of the humans other than Moira. Apparently Charles had spent days while trapped in the infirmary gleaning through every mind in the compound, gathering every mutant into something of a group in his mind so that he could broadcast to them as easily when he needed to.

Now Erik was glad he'd done it early, because it was certainly coming in handy now. Charles made certain that they all understood who he was—more of a feeling and an installation of knowing of relevant faces, an info dump of sorts, than words—and he then told them that they were leaving.

The man and woman who are coming to free all of you can be trusted. He is one of us, and we have planned this thoroughly. I am sorry to put all of this onto all of you so suddenly, but unforeseen circumstances have forced us to act more quickly than we had meant to. But if you will trust us, we will all be free within the day.

I cannot say this will not be dangerous—it will be—but we will do everything we can to protect you. If you have a defensive power of your own, please, use it. Help to protect those around you; help us see that we all make it out safely. And I cannot make up your minds for you, but I would also implore you not to cause needless harm to any of the humans in our way. Yes, they have held us and mistreated us, but if we were to purposely hurt them we would be no better than they are. Please, make the right choice and do not give in to anger and revenge. It is enough that we will be free. There are other ways to ensure that nothing like this ever happens again.

Erik looked at Moira as Charles's voice faded away, and her eyebrows were up as she looked back. The expression on her face, other than that, was unreadable at first. Pride, maybe, in the man she loved? But it was tempered by sadness, and Erik looked away and gave her her privacy. He focused again on the mutants slowly emerging from the cells, and there was confusion and hope and excitement and still a bit of wariness there, too, but they were coming.

"Ready to go now?" he asked. They all nodded quickly, and Erik turned and headed back up the stairs. "Stay with them," he called back to Moira. "I'll get the other one."

By the time Erik and Moira had made it to the lab wing and Charles had given the announcement, he and Raven had been back in their cells for several minutes, and Stryker and his entail of guards were drawing closer.

Raven knew what was happening now. She knew they were moving because Stryker was coming to kill her, and she knew that many others would die tomorrow, too, if they didn't make their move now. Charles wished he hadn't had to tell her quite everything, but she hadn't let him be until he had.

Charles was poised nervously in the middle of the room, wishing he could sit because his ribs ached and the new, healing scar ached, and he was trying not to shake, but he couldn't sit. Stryker was too close. He could just as easily use his powers sitting down, he supposed, but he couldn't sit. He had to protect Raven and he didn't feel he could do that properly if he weren't on his feet. "Get behind the screen," he told her in no uncertain terms.

"What? I'm not going to hide, and you're going to stop him anyway."

"I have a feeling he may be planning to shoot first and gloat later, and I would rather he didn't get off a shot before I can stop him."

"The stop him before he's inside."

Charles let out a breath. "We need them to open the door before I stop them. The faster we're all evacuated the lower the chance of casualties, and it will go more quickly if we can begin getting others out of their cells while waiting for Erik. Granted, we won't be able to do it as quickly as he could, but every saved moment will help."

"I'm not getting behind the screen."

"I just want to be sure you're safe," he pleaded, voice rising in urgency. They were close now. "It's only for a moment; as soon as I've put them to sleep you—"

But her arms were crossed and her eyes were determined. "Charles, I am not hiding. End of story."

He swallowed and stared at her for several seconds, panicking on the inside because Stryker was at the end of the corridor now but he didn't know what else to do.

Too long. He waited too long. The door opened and he spun to face it, shoving his sister behind him and pushing two fingers to his temple while he moved. The guards dropped immediately, deeply asleep, and Stryker froze in mid-movement two or three steps in the door. There was a gun in his hand and Charles quickly crossed to the frozen agent, wrenched it from his fingers and tossed it away.

He glanced back and Raven was frozen, too, in shock, holding a breath that she released in a gust now. "God," she said weakly.

Charles swallowed. "I warned you," he said quietly.

Raven came to him, slowly, eyeing the unmoving Stryker all the while. "Why isn't he on the ground?"

Charles motioned with his free hand to the fingers he still had to his head. "I have him frozen. There are a few things I need to find before I put him under—things it might be useful to know before we leave."

"Just be careful. And don't try to do anything else right now; you aren't strong enough yet. Don't overdo it."

"Don't worry."

She nodded at him in as much satisfaction as they both knew she was going to get right now, and edged past Stryker to get out of the cell. "I'll keep watch, and I'll see what I can do about getting some of these people out." She glanced about at her feet, and then bent to scoop up two of the handguns from the unconscious guards. He didn't have to read her mind to know that she only planned to use them to damage control panels to open as many of the doors as she could; she may have wanted to hurt some of the humans here, but she wouldn't. He knew that much. He trusted her.

Then Raven was outside his line of sight, and Charles returned his attention to Stryker.

Part of him still wanted to tremble inside; this was really, truly happening.

Raven noted that the guards at the ends of the corridor were unconscious as well, before she hurried several doors down to the only two she knew, and stopped at the first. She spent a moment trying to decipher any other way to get it open without shooting the panel, but without Erik the only way to open it was with a code, or from the main control room where the order was given to open the doors at mealtimes and when their group was to report to the yard. There were no locks. Just automation. She wondered how much they'd had to pay for that.

She didn't care.

Sighing, Raven stood back and aimed at the panel, and put two bullets in it.

The door popped open.

"Bingo," she muttered.

"Raven?"

It was Sean's incredulous voice, but it was Hank's blue arms that wrapped around her and pulled her off her feet as she was crushed to his chest.

"Please tell me this isn't a dream; are we really getting out of here?" he whispered.

She laughed a little and returned the embrace, not planning to complain unless she suddenly found herself unable to take in air—though that point wasn't far off.

"Yeah. We're getting the hell out of here." When he finally put her down Hank stole a kiss, and it was brief but Sean made a face anyway.

"Geez, get a room."

Raven glared at him, and then motioned to the pile of unconscious men at their door back down the hall, and at the other ones at the entrances at the ends of the corridor. "We don't have time to play around, you guys. Find a gun or two and start shooting panels."

"Is that the whole plan?" Sean questioned. "Please tell me that's not the whole plan. I mean assume Charles was talking about Erik just now, with that thing in our heads, but what kind of one of us is he? You can tell us now, right? What's he even do?"

Raven held up one of the guns she had. "This is not the plan. Erik can manipulate metal; that's the plan. We're just speeding things up."

"Where's Charles?" Hank asked.

"Back in our cell, dealing with Stryker; him being the unforeseen circumstances Charles mentioned. I don't really feel like explaining."

Sean grumbled. "With Stryker AWOL you do realize they're gonna have the alarms on so fast—"

"Hey," she snapped. "Mr. Pessimism. Shut up and get moving."

There were enough metal instruments in the lab Charles had directed Erik to that it wasn't a problem to incapacitate the scientists crowding into it, just as he had the guards. It was chaos, for just a moment, but the rest of the compound's activity and population was so far removed from here that no one would ever notice.

After that, it was quick work to free the young man on the table from his restraints and lead him back out to the entrance to the lab wing, where Moira and the other freed mutants were waiting. Then it was quietly on the high security section, still trying to keep a low profile. As long as they could.

The first young man they freed there introduced himself as Alex Summers, and once he was freed from the metal braces around his forearms and feet that kept him from moving much at all he showed them what he could do.

He was in much more control now, he told them, than he had been when they had put him here more than a year ago. Thanks to Charles working with him from a distance, telepathically.

Breaking out the rest of the high security inhabitants went twice as quickly after that.

Stryker was frozen but he was not unaware, and rummaging through the man's mind while he watched was not on Charles's list of favorite things to do. But he needed to know what Stryker or his superiors or anyone else here might know about him, among other things. He needed to know if there was anywhere for them to go once they had left here. They had a contingency plan for how to get somewhere, but they didn't know where 'there' was yet. It all depended on what he found now, and because he wasn't recovered enough to wipe all of Stryker's memory now just as he hadn't been able to deal with Shaw when he was here, Charles had to be sure Stryker didn't know what he was looking for.

He distracted Stryker with thoughts of the escape, and their plans, pushing them forward in his mind—true bits, false bits—because it would interest him but none of it would matter for him to know. They would be long gone before he woke.

Either way, Stryker could have distracted him in return; he was aware, and he could have been ranting inwardly the entire time, but for the longest while he was silent and it was rather unnerving. But Charles found most of what he needed, and he was storing any other useful information when suddenly Stryker was laughing. Inwardly, of course, but laughing.

You really think you can do it, don't you? You think you and all your little freak friends are going to get out of here unscathed, don't you?

"Not entirely unscathed. I am not quite that naïve, thank you very much. But we do hope to avoid the largest number of casualties, yes. On both sides. I daresay that would not be your intention, were our roles reversed."

Stryker snorted inwardly. What are you saying, Xavier? You think you're better than me?

"No. I am merely saying that there are much better choices that you and others could have made. Any violence at all could have been avoided."

I don't think so. You're all animals; there would have been violence someday. I'm trying to prevent the day you all turn on us, Stryker retorted vehemently.

"Funny how you call us sub-human, and yet you are the only one that still uses our names occasionally."

Habit, Stryker growled. Nothing more.

"Or is it?"

You don't know what you're talking about; not that it matters. You're never getting out of here. You'll be dead before the day is done.

Charles raised an eyebrow. "I believe we've been over the fact that that would upset your superiors immensely."

And you know what? I don't give a damn anymore. You're more trouble than you're worth. If there's no easy way to get you under control again, I have no qualms about having you killed. Though I'd rather kill you myself. Maybe I will. But I'll still kill your sister first.

Charles glowered at him quickly. "You will never touch her."

Sure I will. Bullet in the head's too good for either of you now. I'm not just going to kill her, either; I think I'll make you watch while I fuck her first.

Charles wanted to kill him then. He was relatively sure he had just enough strength left to do it, too, and he was shaking a bit now, forcing the anger back because he couldn't do that; he couldn't kill. He wouldn't.

He had what he needed; enough, anyway. He backed up stiffly, another step or two, and was about to shove Stryker roughly into unconsciousness when he continued, laughing again on the inside and it was so harsh this time Charles winced.

Maybe I'll do it from behind, like that piece of trash guard did you.

Now Charles was frozen, gasping between shoving flashbacks away, and how could Stryker know that?

It was my idea, you know. Planned the whole thing. Not that I really had to to get him to do it, but I was gonna pay him. Whoever killed him saved me the money. Whoever. Because Shaw had had Emma erase any suspicion of Erik. That memory was gone. Stryker didn't know it had been Erik.

Stryker? Stryker had—

Charles stumbled back another step or two, his fingers digging into his temple as he tried desperately to hold them there. Stryker was still laughing and he was losing control. He was upset and he needed to calm down but his heart was pounding and he couldn't push the images from his mind.

Oh god. Stryker. It had been Stryker's doing the whole time.

Of course it had. Stryker had been trying to break him from the beginning.

He had very nearly succeeded.

He still might, if Charles couldn't get a hold of himself.

But Stryker was still laughing.

BE QUIET! It took everything Charles had not to hurt the man, when he screamed at him. All Stryker did, though, was laugh harder.

How do you think you can save anyone, when you can't even save yourself!

Stop! He shouted inwardly, because he didn't want Raven or anyone else to come running. Not now. He knew how he must look…he knew what the look on his face must seem. It was bad enough that Stryker was seeing it. If he'd thought he needed to sit before he wanted to collapse now—collapse in a ball and forget the world and pretend that night in the yard had never happened. He was well and truly trembling now, and he couldn't breathe, and it was only fueling Stryker's mirth.

Charles backed up another step and the bunks were at his back, and he wanted to put Stryker under but the man was throwing things at him—jokes he'd made with the few who'd known his plan, about the guard, ways he'd imagined it had gone—not what had really happened, but it was close enough and Charles was frozen, trying to fight the images away, fighting his own memories, and—

Then he lost it. He lost his hold on Stryker and the man was on him in an instant—or what seemed like one—despite his age, pinning Charles against the side of the bunks behind him and there was something in his hand and—

Charles shouted at the sharp pain at his side, and only his kneejerk reaction to shove away whatever was hurting him saved him from the clear liquid in the syringe. The needle ripped a larger wound than a needle would otherwise have left coming out when Charles shoved Stryker's arm away, but the contents, which Stryker had been attempting to empty into him, dripped harmlessly to the floor instead.

Maybe some of it had made it in. It must have. His senses did not shut down but he felt what he had left begin to shrink and grow more hazy. He fought it, fought some of the effects away before they took hold, but he knew was weaker now, and he couldn't stop Stryker when the man growled and drew his arm up. Maybe he could have at least simply put the man to sleep if Stryker's other arm weren't pressed into his chest and the pain weren't immensely distracting, but it was. Charles couldn't focus and he still couldn't breathe, and Stryker was bringing the needle down toward his face.

He threw an arm up, stopping the needle mere centimeters from his eye, and he'd been so clouded that Charles didn't realize until then what Stryker was trying to do.

Stryker really was trying to kill him. The contents of the syringe had only been meant to make it easier. He didn't care about killing Raven first anymore; all of the talk, all of the cruel taunting had only been to distract Charles, to make him lose control, and he had.

The man had known exactly what Charles's weakness was, because he had orchestrated its creation.

Charles's arm shook and his chest burned, and Stryker was still bearing down with the needle. Charles couldn't move, couldn't breathe enough to call for help, and he fumbled inwardly to reach Raven's mind with his own, but everything hurt too much and he knew he wasn't going to make it.

I'm sorry…

He hoped that, at least, made it to his sister.

And then the pressure was gone. Stryker wasn't on him anymore and the needle was jerking backwards wildly and so was Stryker. It looked almost like he stabbed himself in the neck, but that wasn't what happened. He and the needle were pulled back simultaneously, the needle, the smaller object, moving more wildly and then it was in Stryker's neck, and Stryker was falling, and the man barely had time to grunt in pain before he landed on the small piece of metal. It buried itself deeper, of course—Charles assumed—because scarcely ten seconds after Stryker had been about to kill him the man was face down on the floor and dying, a pool of blood forming under his neck.

And Erik was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and a hand outstretched.

They both stared, dumbfounded, until Stryker went still. When he did Charles stumbled away from the bunks, away from the body, finding a wall to catch his breath against, though that didn't help the fire in his chest. "Erik…"

Erik swallowed and shook his head, his wide eyes slowly giving way to a more stony expression. "That isn't what I meant to do. I had to act quickly; he was going to kill you. You were slipping…" I panicked. He caught that thought easily enough.

I know.

He knew Erik wasn't lying. He could feel it. As much as they may have wanted Stryker dead, this had been an accident.

Charles shivered, still fighting the memories Stryker had brought up and trying to understand that the man who had tormented him for so long was…gone. It was relief and so many other things and really he only wanted to cry but he shouldn't do that right now. Every moment was crucial.

But he wondered if this was what it would feel like for Erik, when Shaw was finally taken care of one way or the other.

It took him a while to realize he was shivering too hard, shivering to his core, and almost the moment he realized it he was warm. Erik was keeping him from collapsing, holding him close and rubbing warmth into his arms and back, and his teeth had begun to chatter but that stopped now.

"Hey, hey, it's all right. Come on, Charles, we don't need you in shock."

"W-w-what?" He couldn't process that, at first. But he was beginning to warm up, and beginning to calm down, and his head cleared but his powers remained a bit weaker than before. He was sure now, that it had been the telepathic dampener in that syringe and some of it had made its way into his system. But he wasn't completely useless.

Or he hoped that he wasn't.

Erik kept up his efforts to keep Charles warm until Charles purposefully stepped away and took a deep breath—or as deep a breath as it was advisable for him to take at this point. Erik let him go and looked at him in concern.

"Are you all right?" I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen that way. But I wasn't going to let him kill you.

Charles nodded weakly, trying not to look at the body on the floor. I know, I know…I'm all right…thank you. For saving his life. For holding him together. For not killing Stryker on purpose…all of it and more than that.

"Charles!" It was Raven, and he didn't have time to react before she threw her arms around him—gently, but she did. "What happened in here?" She'd already seen the body, and when she stepped back she looked him up and down. "You're bleeding."

Charles glanced to where the needle had pushed into his right side, and found a small circle of blood soaking through the fabric of his clothes. But the ring wasn't wide, and he knew the wound wasn't really anything to worry about. It stung and ached—something of an awfully amplified version of the residual pain from a normal shot—but it was no danger.

"It's nothing. I'm all right." Physically, maybe—though that was really a bit of a lie too; his chest particularly hated him at the moment—but his mind was a mess. He'd calmed himself but the images were still too close to the surface.

Raven sighed, and a hand still brushed his arm but she let him go. "We've got most of the doors in this corridor open, but we're out of bullets now."

"That's what I'm here for," Erik said. There was a concentrated blasting sound from out in the corridor, and his eyebrows went up. "Though I've had help. You didn't mention your friend, Charles."

Charles smiled some. "Alex? Yes, well, the way they had him restrained he could not utilize his powers until he was freed. That, and I wasn't certain that it was doing any good, only being able to work with him telepathically. I haven't been able to do much in recent weeks, either. There was no way to know if he would have enough control to help us in the way we needed. Don't worry, Erik; we still couldn't have done this without you."

Erik smirked, and Raven cut in. "Did you find what you needed?" she asked quietly.

"Oh…uhm…yes. I did." He looked back to Erik, who was eyeing him questioningly. "I needed to know how much Stryker or anyone else involved in all of this might know, about us and the others here. What records they kept. I thought it might help us to know what was safe and what was not, once we'd left this place. It was good that I looked, really; it seems that we have somewhere to go, after all."

"Wait…really?" Raven asked. "Is New York safe?"

He nodded. "They don't know about the house there. I didn't keep any documentation related to it in the apartment at Oxford or on any of my accounts in England. They seized all of that, of course, but they had no reason to look for anything else once they had us and the way its all arranged I doubt they could have traced it anyhow. Everything in the states will still be available to us once we're in New York, though it will be wise to change the names on everything just to be certain…"

Erik was confused, and he let it be known. "Wait…what? What are you talking about?"

"My parents had a home in New York, and Stryker and his superiors aren't aware of it. We can go there, at least to begin with. We can ascertain the safety of staying at a later time, but it should be safe for a while."

"That's nice, Charles, but do you know how many people are here…?"

"Four-hundred and thirty-eight mutants, including us. Yes, Erik, I know."

"One place isn't going to be enough."

"Not all of them will want to stay with us once we're free. We'll have room for those that will, at least for a short time. There may be some crowding, but we'll manage."

"Even if only half of them follow us, that's more than two hundred—"

"It's a big place," Raven filled in.

"Big enough for two or three hundred people?" Erik asked skeptically.

"In a pinch."

"You must be joking…"

"Really not."

Charles shook his head. "I know we have Alex out there, but we really do not have the time for this. We should get moving."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Erik asked.

He let out a breath, wishing it hadn't turned out to be so uneven. "Yes. Let's go."

Erik didn't look entirely convinced, but he did know that time was of the essence. "All right. Go on to the end of the corridor; Moira's waiting with those already freed."

Charles tried to cover the fact that he started at that—at Moira's name—but he felt raven's hand return to his arm anyway as emerged from the cell after Erik. The corridor was full of mutants being freed from their cells and crowding toward the far end to get out. Alex was carefully blasting panels and Erik began to rip away the remaining closed doors.

"Come on," Raven said, tugging at him. The relief and hope in the air was palpable, besides the urgency, and it helped him some to feel so much of it from all of them, but Charles was still bent as he tried to walk. His chest ached so sharply, and without asking Hank was at his side, an arm around his shoulders to keep him upright.

They came out into the wide main corridors outside the cell areas. Moira was there, the crowd of mutants around her growing, and all of those that saw Hank and Raven help him from the more narrow hallway of cells behind them knew who he was, from the announcement. They knew his face, and Erik's, and Moira's, and Raven's, and Hank, Logan, Sean, and Darwin—all of those who knew the plan and those close to them, all of the faces they would need to know to follow if they cared to.

There were so many of them already. They would have to begin to split up soon, to keep them from being too large a target. They would have to begin sending groups out to the main gate—the only gate. If they sent Alex with the first group they would even be able to get out, without waiting for the rest. The sooner they began to get people outside the walls, the better.

Moira made her way to them slowly, an uncertain, pained look on her face that Charles knew he had put there.

"Charles…are you all right?"

The same question he had answered so many times already, but he had hurt her and he couldn't complain at answering it again. He saw her eyes track to the ring of blood on his jumpsuit and the way Hank was holding him up, and Charles did his best to stand straighter and more on his on and assure her that he was fine.

"Yes…thank you."

She said nothing else; she merely nodded and looked elsewhere, then, though she didn't move away.

"Charles, hey."

That was Alex, emerging from the cell corridor with Erik and several other freed mutants close behind. The young man grinned, cocky countenance not at all dampened by his months in high security. It hadn't really been much different than solitary confinement in prison, anyhow, Alex had told him long ago.

"Alex," Charles smiled. "It's good to see you looking well."

"It's good to be getting out," he said. "Good to see you too though, but no offense—you look like hell."

"None taken. However, I do have a favor to ask of you…" Charles asked, and Alex listened, but he was hesitant.

"Are you sure? I can make the rest of this go a lot faster if I stick with this guy—" He motioned to Erik, who had begun moving toward the stairs to begin freeing those in the next corridor, but was coming to them now to confirm any change in plans first.

"I know," Charles told him. "You have already been more than a help, and you can be still. You can take out the gate and begin getting these people out of here entirely. It will be better if as many as possible can begin putting distance behind them. We can find each other once we're all out."

"But—"

"He's right," Erik said quickly. "Take as many as you can and go; we can send more groups after you once the gate's down."

"Please, Alex," Charles urged.

The young man huffed a bit. "Fine. I guess that makes sense. The rest of you just be careful, all right? We've got catching up to do, and all that fun crap."

Charles smiled again. "Of course."

Raven squeezed his arm and Alex nodded and dashed off, to the head of the group gathered there. "Hey, everybody come on! Follow me! We're getting the hell out of here!"

Charles helped, giving Alex's face and what he said to the rest of those there, for those who couldn't quite see him, and giving them all the assurance that Alex could be trusted as well and would lead them to what, hopefully, would be safety.

They left, but Moira didn't move to follow.

"You should go," Charles told her. "You'll be safer outside the walls."

"I'm staying," she said, in no uncertain terms. He wanted her safe, but he couldn't insist now. He didn't deserve to—not if he could give her nothing more than the fact that he cared. She already knew that.

Hank, Sean, Darwin, Logan and Raven stayed too, to help and to be ready to lead other groups out as they went. Charles had already made certain that everyone knew the way out.

Logan took over Hank's position of making sure that Charles remained upright, and they made their way down to the next corridors. Charles put the few guards in their way to sleep but it was wearing him out much more quickly now.

It didn't help, either, that he couldn't close his eyes to rest—not even for a moment. When he tried all he saw now was that night. But that could be dealt with once this was over. He wished, though, that Moira would have gone with the others. That she was safe, and that she wasn't right here, reminding him of what he couldn't have.

What he couldn't have because of Stryker, because Stryker had planned everything…

Moira kept watching him. He knew it was only because she wanted to be sure he was all right, but it didn't help.

Halfway through the next corridor the alarms began to wail, and within seconds there were extra guards coming in from the end, weapons drawn and shouting. Erik deflected the first hail of bullets, and Charles put them to sleep, but it was a strain, and if Logan hadn't been at his shoulder he would have collapsed.

"Whoa! Watch it. Maybe you should just head out with the next group…"

Charles shook his head stubbornly and Logan scowled, but no one said anything though they were all looking at him now. They had all stopped momentarily when the shooting began, and were realizing that the rest of this was not going to be as easy.

"I need to do what I can," Charles insisted. He could get help. He would have to. He hadn't wanted to, but he would have to.

They moved on, carefully, and Charles reached out to the young mind that was already waiting for him. She could sense that something was happening, and she was waiting for him to call to her. We're coming for you, Jean. For everyone. We're leaving now.

I knew we'd get out, the little girl grinned inwardly.

And we will. But can you help me, just for a little while? It isn't complicated; it's safe for you to do it. I need you to help me put some people to sleep, so we'll be able to leave more easily. I'll do everything; I only need you to lend me some of your strength. Can you do that?

She gave it willingly, the access to her power, and it took a moment to wrestle it into submission, but because he didn't plan to do anything more complicated it, thankfully, was not as hard as he'd feared. His senses expanded again then, and he didn't feel so weak.

Does that help enough? Jean asked.

It helps quite a bit. Thank you so much, Jean. I'll see you soon.

Retrieving the children would be the last place they went, before destroying Cerebro and the databases and leaving. Last, because the young ones didn't need to be out and vulnerable for any longer than they had to be to spirit them from the facility.

With Jean's help it was easier after that, but focusing on keeping her power under control left him no room to push away the images that he didn't want crowding his mind. And Moira was always near him, and he wanted to rid himself of the memories and he wanted her and—

Why? Why couldn't he have her? Why couldn't he be happy? Didn't he deserve it? Why couldn't Erik and Raven and Moira herself be right?

The frequency of attacks increased. Erik did what he could and Charles acted as quickly as he was able and those that could help in defense did, but people were hurt. A few on the fringes were killed. Thanks to the measures they were taking the casualties were not what Charles had feared or what they could have been, but it was not easy either way.

And why couldn't he clear his mind? Why couldn't he focus on what was happening now, when it was so crucial, and push the past from his mind?

Why did missing Moira still hurt so badly, and right at this moment?

The answer was relatively simple, of course. Stryker. Stryker and what he'd done and the taunting and the memories he'd pulled to the surface and that blasted cruel laugh…

Always Stryker. Since the beginning, really, it had all been Stryker. Everything that pained or irked Charles about this place, everything that had hurt him. Stryker had started or championed or supported it all. Stryker had hated him and wanted to break him and—

He was winning, Charles realized. Stryker was dead and they were succeeding, they were going to be free, but Stryker was still winning. He would win in the end, if Charles let him, if he was always afraid, if he never let himself love again the way he wanted to. If he left Moira alone.

They had sent two more groups back by now, led by Sean and Darwin, and Charles had from Alex that the gate was down and any human personnel there were subdued. There had been casualties at the gate, as well, on both sides, but that had been expected. At least there, too, it was not as bad as they had feared it could be.

Inside, they were on the last general use corridor, on the bottom level. After this, the fliers and the children. They emerged from the cell corridor to another barrage of fire.

Logan yanked him back inside, Raven and Hank and Moira following them and taking cover while Erik deflected the barrage, and none of the mutants from the cells in this hallway had made it out yet at all; they were inside and safe. It took Charles longer to reach out to the humans' minds, because this time Logan had pulled him too hard and he'd hit the wall back inside the corridor with too much force. It pulled a startled shout of pain from his throat and they were looking at him, but he fumbled to push his fingers back to his temple and do his job.

The humans outside the corridor dropped, the firing fell silent, and Charles leaned heavily back into the wall to catch his breath. He knew the expression on his face was pained, but he couldn't do much about it now. They'd seen anyway; there wouldn't be any point.

"Charles…?"

It was Moira's voice, and it wasn't until he opened his eyes again that he realized she was the one who had ended up beside him, when they'd retreated back into the cover of the other side of the doorway.

Hank and Erik and Raven began to usher the other mutants from the corridor, and after a moment Logan joined them. Charles and Moira stayed where they were. Charles was really looking at her now, and he didn't want to stop.

"Are you really okay?" she asked anxiously. She was close, but she still respected what he had told her. She didn't move to touch him in any way, and now all that did was make his throat clog anyway.

"I-I'm…I'm fine. Yes. Really." He pushed himself up straighter on his own, wincing. He looked at her longer, and the expression on her face was conflicted and unreadable and he refused to intrude into her mind to tell him more.

Why did Stryker have to be winning? He shouldn't have been winning. Charles knew he shouldn't be letting it happen. He didn't want to be letting it happen. He didn't want to be afraid; he didn't want to feel tainted or dirty or unworthy or anything else. But it wasn't as if he was choosing to.

Maybe, though, he could choose to fight it.

He wanted to. He didn't want to hurt Moira anymore. He wanted to love her.

"You're sure?" Moira asked again.

Charles nodded slowly, and something changed in her face as she watched him. Maybe she understood some of what he was thinking. But he didn't know how to put it into words, and simply letting her know seemed…too much, right now. In the middle of an operation this crucial.

He held out a hand instead. Moira looked at it for several long seconds and they were running out of time. Logan would be back for them. They needed to move on; they had more to do here.

But slowly she took it, her fingers curling around his and clasping tightly, and that and the relieved look on her face now as they locked gazes said everything.

It was a promise. A promise to try.

Chapter Text

"Charles!"

The cry was a happy one, Jean as she flew out into the corridor the moment the door to the children's holding area was open. Rather than cells in was a long room lined with bunks on either side, with restroom stalls at the ends and irregularly spaced shelves that held a few minimal amusements to keep the younger children calm.

It was better than the cells but not by much, and Charles could see why Jean and the rest of them would be eager to be out of the place.

Jean, still in communication with him, had known they were coming and was waiting for them as soon as Erik had the door off. Charles released Moira's hand and Logan helped him get down to his knees more easily to be at Jean's level when she hurried into his arms. Still, she was careful, as always, because she could sense what he felt, and she didn't run into him hard enough for it to hurt.

"We really get to leave now?" the girl asked eagerly, arms around his neck. "We can go find my parents?"

"Yes, we will find your parents," Charles chuckled. "And thank you for your help."

She pulled back. "You still need help? Are we not done yet?"

"Not quite yet. We still must get outside; if you don't mind, could you stay with me for a bit longer?" he asked, tapping his head. Jean nodded easily, and he smiled. "Thank you. Now, you're going to go with Raven, though."

Hank had already led the group from the cells in the last corridor out, and the only other freed prisoners with them now were the fliers. Raven was going to bring them and the children out, and the fliers and older children were already picking the younger ones up in readiness to flee the compound.

Jean pouted. "But I want to stay with you."

"It's much safer if you don't, Jean, and I want you to be safe."

"I want you to be safe too."

He kissed her cheek. "I'll be all right. And let someone carry you; it will be faster that way, and the sooner you're all through the gate and into the hills, the better."

"But I'm fast!"

"Come here, you," Raven said, picking up the little girl and shifting her onto her back. "There. You happy with me?"

"Can't I ride with Logan?"

Logan laughed a little. "Sorry, kid. I've gotta stay with the hot-shots here," he chuckled, pointing a thumb at Erik and Charles.

"Okay…" Jean wrapped her legs around Raven's waist and held on. "If Charles and Logan aren't coming I can ride with you."

"Thanks a lot for that."

While Jean giggled, Charles laughed as Logan helped him back to his feet.

"You okay?" Jean asked, when he winced.

"Yes, just rather sore still. I'll be all right."

"Get going," Erik said then, to Raven. "Get them out of here."

She nodded and she went, the fliers and older children following her carrying their younger charges. Some of the fliers who had secondary powers did not carry any of the younger children, and remained on the outskirts of the retreating formation for defense. They hadn't really needed to be told, either, Charles had realized. Most of the mutants had banded together on their own as the escape went on, organizing themselves for efficiency and to reduce casualties, those who could help more effectively doing so. Some, of course, did whatever they wanted, acting on their own before even being out of the facility, but their choices were their own and Charles had other things to worry about. He had stopped two or three that had deliberately tried to kill humans, but that was all.

He reached for Moira's hand again. "You should go with them," he said. He already knew she would say no. She had made that clear the last time he had asked her to go. Sure enough, she didn't even bother to answer aloud this time. She merely shook her head and squeezed his fingers.

Then the rest of the group following Raven was out of sight, and it was only Charles, Erik, Moira, and Logan in the corridor.

"Where to?" Logan asked.

"We have to destroy Cerebro," Erik said first. "Or I do. And any records, the databases."

"Darwin came back in and took a small group through the offices," Charles said. "Once he had the others with him outside the walls. He had two that could control fire. Any physical records have been destroyed, and the fires are already out. What about the databases in the labs?"

"Melted them down on the way out."

"There are others, near the offices," Moira said. "There are two rooms of machines. I don't know if Darwin's team found them…"

Charles shook his head. "They didn't. We'll need to see to those."

"Is that it then?" Erik asked. "Those and Cerebro?"

Charles nodded now, and Logan humphed. "Let's get the hell to it then."

Charles filled her in on the remaining agenda once he knew it, and then gave her further instructions.

Once you're through the gates, get to the trees; that's where everyone's gone. It's cover. Most of the guards have either been put to sleep or subdued by now, but a few are still in pursuit. You'll be as safe as you can be there.

They made it through the corridors safely, no conscious guards in sight, but it was a different story once they were outside and in the open, in the space between the compound's buildings and the gates. A small group of humans came from around the next building, firing.

"Everybody run!" It was Darwin, by the blasted gates, and a small group with him jumped to action attacking the guards that had revealed themselves.

Those who carried children broke into sprints, going for the open gates while the others covered them. Raven shifted Jean from her back to her chest. "Hold on!" she hissed. Jean did, and Raven ran as the fliers with empty arms took to the air. A girl with dragonfly wings appeared to be able to spit some sort of acid, and she joined the attack on the humans. Raven noted, with distant satisfaction, that for the most part those attacking were taking heed of her brother's words from before this had all really begun: they were going for non-lethal shots.

Some, though, hadn't listened, or weren't careful enough. But she wasn't about to worry over it now. The mutants were losing people, too. She held Jean's head to her chest, keeping the girl's face there so she wouldn't see the dead and wounded on the ground. She realized many of the others with children were doing the same.

This, then, was ground zero. But they had expected that.

Raven swallowed hard and barreled through the gates after those in front of her, and she would have kept going but something grabbed her arm and swung her against the metal on the outside.

The outside. She was outside.

And it was Hank who had pulled her to him.

"Hank!"

He kissed her briefly, and moved in front of her even though they were on the other side of the walls and theoretically safe now.

"Sorry…had to be sure you were okay. Get to the trees," he told her, nodding after the others already heading there and reiterating Charles's instructions. "We haven't let any of the humans through the gate; you'll be safe there."

"What about you?"

"We're holding the entrance."

Alex and Sean and others with strong offensive powers were here, keeping the humans back so that those outside the walls would be safe. Darwin and others with defensive powers were covering those mutants still coming out and helping the wounded. But this was the last group and soon enough they were all outside. Raven hadn't had time to break off and head for the trees like Hank had asked her too.

"That's everybody?" Darwin asked, coming back to the gate. Others still kept an eye on the remaining conscious humans.

"That's it," Raven confirmed, shifting Jean to her back once more. "Charles, Erik, Logan, and Moira are still inside taking care of Cerebro and the rest of the databases. Then we're out of here." She glanced at Hank, who exchanged a glance with Darwin. Darwin nodded for the trees.

"Go on. All three of you."

Hank took her hand and pulled her toward the hills, and when Raven looked back she saw more humans gathering in the open area just inside the gates. No one was fighting anymore. It was a standoff—the guards that were left and the mutants that had stayed at the gate. If either of them moved there would be more casualties on both sides, and they all knew it.

But that didn't mean the fighting wouldn't start again.

Raven's stomach turned, and Jean's small arms tightened a little around her neck. "They'll be okay, right?" the girl asked.

"Yeah," Raven said tightly.

Come on, Charles. Get out of there.

Destroying the remaining databases was easy enough, and in fact nothing Erik had moved or manipulated today was very large. But he had done quite a bit of it, and he was feeling it. The one thing that was left was large, but he told himself it would be no different than anything else.

I know you're tired, Erik. Hold on just a bit longer and we'll be out of here.

Caught, of course. He couldn't hide anything from Charles. He looked at his friend, and saw again that he was leaning on Logan much more heavily than when they had begun. Moira kept looking at him worriedly, too.

You're exhausted, too.

Yes, well…having Jean's help does not change the fact that my reserves are dwindling. But I'm all right. Let's get this over with, shall we?

They came out into the open area at the back of the compound where Cerebro stood near the wall, away from the buildings. Unlike the open area at the front by the gates, however, this one was empty.

Erik looked up at the large spherical installation that Hank had designed and Stryker and his scientists had bastardized. He glanced at Charles, who was looking at it too, and the carefully unreadable expression on his face said more than if he'd looked upset.

Erik looked up again, and he blinked and suddenly all he could see was Charles in that chair, screaming and pleading for help that wouldn't come. Erik! Erik, please…please, please…oh god, Erik, please…please remember. Help me! I can't take any more of this. Please…help me please…But Erik hadn't helped. No one had helped. Because Shaw had taken his memory again. Because Stryker was a heartless bastard.

He reached for the installation angrily, furious with himself all over again, and with Shaw, and with Stryker even though he was dead. He pulled and…

Nothing happened. The metal groaned, but did not move.

No no no. He had to have the strength left. He had to destroy this damned thing; he couldn't let anyone use it against Charles again, or against anyone else. He pulled desperately, trying to collapse it, break it, knock it over, anything, but it was larger than anything else today and it wouldn't respond.

His jaw clenched. He tried harder, began to sweat, and—

It's not the size, Erik. Too much anger. Remember what I told you.

But he was angry. He didn't know how to turn that off. Maybe they were getting out of here now but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. That didn't mean Charles hadn't been hurt. That didn't mean that he hadn't been forced to betray his own kind with this machine for nearly two years. Just because they were destroying it now did not mean this place had never existed.

He could feel the gentle pressure in his mind, and knew Charles was about to say something else, but he felt the bullets coming for them then, almost before he heard the gunfire.

Erik swung around, catching the bullets in midair, glaring at the five men that had come out of the next building. They stopped, staring at him because they must have recognized him and they thought he was human—everyone had—and Erik hadn't dropped the bullets yet. He was staring, and he realized that he recognized half of them.

They weren't guards. They were scientists who had found guns somewhere, who were looking at him wide-eyed and terrified now. Good. Because half of them were the scientists that had been in Cerebro with Charles when he walked in on that session, when he hadn't had his memory, when he had ignored Charles's pleas for help. Some of these men were the ones who had been hurting Charles that day, probably the ones who had been there every time, from the beginning, and he hated them.

Erik…

I already killed Stryker, Erik thought flatly. What's a few more? It would be easy.

You don't mean that.

They hurt you. You recognize them too, don't you?

Charles swallowed inwardly. Yes. But what they did does not mean they should die. You're angry, Erik.

The scientists were all but cowering now, still trying to aim their weapons even though they could see that it was clearly useless. Angry? Understatement, Charles. They stood there, for hours, more than once, and listened to you scream. How do they deserve to live?

Maybe they don't, but that isn't for us to decide.

Logan and Moira were frozen, staring back and forth between Erik and Charles and the men facing them and the bullets paused in the air. They seemed to understand that interfering in whatever might be happening right now was not a good idea.

Erik knew that what he was saying was wrong, but for a moment he didn't want to care. He did, because he'd had Charles as a friend long enough, but he didn't want to care. He wanted to kill them for what they had done and be done with it, just like Stryker, but—

You didn't kill Stryker on purpose, Erik.

I was still thinking about it, before.

But when it came to it, you didn't. What happened was an accident.

Does that make it any better? Does that change the fact that I killed a man? Again?

He heard Charles huff behind him. What do you want me to say, Erik? We have done this.

Exactly…we've done this. What if I really can't change as much as I've been trying to? What if this is all we ever do?

Then I will do it gladly. I am not going to give up on you just because of an unfortunate incident, even if it isn't the first. I am not going to stop caring simply because of what happened earlier, or for any other reason in the future. I am your friend, Erik, and you are mine. That is not going to change. Please, Erik…you don't have to let your anger get the better of you. You've come so far…don't ruin it. You can be the better man. I still believe in you.

It took more time. Another moment or two, or three.

"Erik, please."

But he dropped the bullets.

The men turned to run, and Charles put them to sleep.

Charles sighed aloud. "Good. May we please get over with this now?"

Erik raised an eyebrow at him, and Charles just smiled. Erik shook his head in mild amusement and turned back to Cerebro. Remember, Erik—not just the anger. You need more than that. This time he listened. He took a breath and reached for the structure again, and this time the metal began to bend. This time he brought it to the ground easily, and the relieved look on Charles's face as it came down helped.

When Erik let go he ushered them all back into the nearest doorway until the dust cleared, and when it had Charles looked over his shoulder and the relief was more than that now. "Thank god," he murmured. His voice nearly cracked, and Erik gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"It's over. Let's go."

No one would ever hurt Charles again, if he had anything to say about it.

Charles nodded, and they were on their way.

Come on, Charles. Get out of there.

He'd heard Raven as they made their way to where Cerebro stood, and he'd told her where they were. He hadn't had a chance to respond again, and her sense of urgency was growing by the minute.

We're done. We're coming.

Get here. Fast. It's all going to go to hell again. I think everyone left awake is out there now, she told him now.

Charles reached out with his mind, and he knew she was right. The remaining humans had gathered at the gate. They, of course, didn't know how many mutants were left inside, but they seemed determined not to let anyone else out. Certainly they didn't know it was only the three of them and Moira.

Still, it didn't matter. They were ready to attack again at the slightest provocation. But they weren't close enough for Charles to put them sleep, even with Jean's help. He was still healing and worn out, after all, and the bit if drugs that had made their way into his system were not helping, either. And he couldn't take much from Jean, lest he risk being unable to control the power she loaned him. Especially now, as exhausted as he was, both physically and mentally.

Everything ached, but he pushed himself faster, unwilling to let the situation at the gate dissolve into more death.

"You know, I could just carry you," Logan joked at one point.

"No, thank you." He took it as a joke. It was the only way he wanted to take it. He didn't want to remember the number of times he'd been carried in recent months. Often enough it had been Erik—which was fine in and of itself—but the reasons he had been carried were things he didn't want to remember. All of it pain and humiliation and heartbreak.

But all of that was over now. It was almost over. And he would rather walk out of this place on his own two feet.

Charles had to ask them all to stop, though, when they were close enough. It was too dangerous to wait, to knock the rest of the guards out, and as soon as they were close enough he asked them to stop. He had to stand still a moment, to the sharp ache from his ribs and wound in his side recede so that he could focus enough to put that many to sleep.

When it was done he stumbled, but it was done. Thank you, Jean, he thought again, and released the connection. Every human in the compound was now unconscious. Some of the first he had put down were beginning to rouse, and those he could reach he sent back on his own. The rest would not be awake to enough to do anything, really, for a while now. They were nothing to be concerned about. He now longer needed Jean's help, and he was glad he didn't. He could feel the girl tiring, too; she was powerful, but she was young.

Logan still had his arm, keeping him upright and steady, and Moira had his other hand and they both caught him when he wavered. Erik's hand appeared on his shoulder, too, and Charles smiled at them to dispel their worry. "It's all right. It's done. We're safe."

Thank god, Raven thought from outside.

"From the humans here, anyhow," Erik said. "We still have to make it to New York."

"Yes, well…one step at a time."

Charles didn't want to go any slower the rest of the way out, but they did. He knew they were doing it for him, and he supposed he shouldn't complain as long as they weren't wasting time. And they didn't.

Soon enough they were out the front doors of the main building and privy to the scene at the blasted gates, which were still smoldering. The ground between the buildings and the wall was littered with bodies, though thankfully they were mostly unconscious guards who would wake up again.

The mutants on the ground would not wake up again.

Charles swallowed, having trouble tearing his eyes from the limp forms that did not show any signs of life. When he looked at their faces he remembered their minds—every mutant, all of those he had gathered together in his own mind to be able to communicate with them all—and he remembered feeling them die. It was the one thing he had not kept Erik or Raven or Moira or anyone else updated on, as the escape went on—the fact that he not only knew there were casualties, but how many and who they were, even if he had never met them face to face. It had been too painful to speak about. It was still.

He knew this could have been much worse, but he still could not shake the creeping feeling of having let them down.

"Charles." It was Erik, and the expression on his face was meaningful when Charles looked at him. "You did everything you could," he said.

Charles sighed. "We all did, I suppose." That didn't mean it wasn't awful that any of them of them had died at all.

"Hey, professor!" It was Sean now, he and Alex coming to them from the gate—or rather, the gaping hole in the wall. "Is that all of them?" he asked, nodding to the sleeping humans.

"Yes. Still, we should go. Might as well put as much distance behind us as we can before they begin to wake up."

"I think some of them already had that idea," Alex said, nodding toward the hills. Charles could see the tree line, and those sheltered under it, and there were definitely not four hundred people there.

Charles nodded. "As I thought…many of them have decided it's safer to strike out on their own. They're leaving."

"We're leaving, as soon as Darwin gets back," Sean put in.

"Where is he?" Logan questioned.

"He and some of the others went in again once all the guards were unconscious—said they'd take what they could carry from the cafeteria's storage. Anything we don't have to cook, you know. So we don't have to worry about finding food right off the bat."

"Hmm. Right. New York isn't far, but I suppose I still should have thought about that," Charles mussed.

"No one's perfect, Charles," Erik smiled in amusement.

"New York?" Alex questioned.

"There's a place there, that we can go. It's safe for now," Charles told him.

"Sweet."

"Hey, we got it! Let's go!"

They all turned at the voice, and Darwin and several others, many of them the fliers that had come out last, were emerging from one of the main building's side entrances. All were carrying bags and backpacks and boxes stuffed with cans and other packaged food. The rest of those left in the gate area, Sean and Alex included, hurried to take things from them to lighten their loads, and they headed outside the walls. It left Charles, Erik, Moira, and Logan on their own again, the last to leave.

It seemed fitting enough, for him at least, to be among the last to make it outside. Perhaps it had been unwillingly and, at first, unknowingly, but Charles knew he had started this. And he had promised himself long ago that he would see it through to the end.

Now, that end had finally come.

Raven was tugging Hank back down the hill, watching them and waiting for them. She wasn't the only one. Sean and Alex and Darwin were waiting at the gate, too.

"Gonna stand there all day?" Alex called.

Charles smiled at the three with him. "Shall we?"

He shrugged politely away from Logan's help to walk through the gate on his own, though he kept Moira's hand. After that he needed help getting up the hill, but he didn't notice the ache anymore when Raven met them just short of the trees and wrapped her arms around him, Jean on her heels.

"We made it," she whispered by his ear. "I told you not to give up."

"Indeed you did," Charles chuckled softly.

"Hey, what about me!"

He bent down then to hug Jean as well. "Yes, Jean. You told me, too."

"And we're gonna be fine. Told you." The girl kissed his cheek and grinned, but she knew he still could not pick her up, so she went to Logan next. The larger mutant swung her up onto his shoulders easily, and Jean went willingly, giggling.

Charles got back to his feet with a hand from Hank, but then the sound of metal groaning made him turn around again—had everyone looking back at the facility. Erik stood with a hand outstretched, and the twisted, melted metal of what had been the gates was moving, melding with the metal wall of the compound on either side. In a moment there was no hole at all. No gate. It did not look as perfect as the rest of the wall, but the compound had effectively been sealed.

"They'll find a way to get over it, of course, but that should slow them down," Erik said in explanation. A few flicks of his wrist later and all of the power and phone lines going into the facility had been torn down as well.

"And we did leave them some food, yes?" Charles asked. Darwin just shrugged.

Erik had not turned around again. He was still staring across the grass and the road at the crippled facility, and Charles and went to his friend's side.

"Is something wrong, my friend?"

"I don't know if I know how to answer that."

Charles understood. He wasn't so sure he knew how to feel right now, himself. "I would hope that happiness is in there somewhere. You've led your people out of captivity today, Erik." He chuckled lightly. "Rather appropriate, actually, considering your heritage."

Erik smirked, giving Charles a knowing glance. "Maybe. But I didn't do it on my own. Even Moses had a brother, didn't he?"

"And a sister." That was Raven; she had followed Charles, and from the appreciative smile on Erik's face now he didn't mind.

"And a sister," Charles agreed. Something was happening, in what they were saying and what was unspoken. In not so many words they were promising each other that the bond they'd formed here would not end because this ordeal was over.

Almost over. As Erik had pointed out, they still had to get to New York.

When they looked back those that had not already left were coming out of the trees too, looking Charles and Erik and the small group around them as if for answers. What now? Where do we go? How do we get there? Charles heard all of the questions, in their minds, and saw the uncertainties warring with the relief and joy of being free on their faces.

How many are left? Erik asked him silently, surveying the crowd.

Four hundred and eleven of us made it out. There are a two hundred and twenty-three still here. The rest have gone on on their own. I wish them the best.

And we still have to get more than two hundred people to New York. Will your plan work for that many?

As long as I can rest a bit first, it will be fine. Much of my problem today was that some of those drugs made their way into my system. But it wasn't much; by tomorrow I will be stronger. The woods should be enough cover for one night, should they not?

They should. As long as we get some of that distance between us and this place you were talking about. We should walk until dark.

Agreed.

Moira was watching them too, the dozens and dozens of mutants coming out of the woods and gathering around them, and her eyebrows were up. "They're waiting for one of you to say something," she said quietly, glancing pointedly at both Charles and Erik. Charles had released her hand when he embraced his sister, and he reclaimed it now and squeezed it for strength. He glanced at Erik, too, who nodded him on.

"I guess that would be me, then," he murmured, almost in amusement.

Erik shrugged. "Telepathy is so much more efficient than shouting at a crowd."

"Excuses," Charles smirked. He still thought Erik would make a wonderful leader. But if he needed more time to see it himself, that was all right.

Charles told them then, all of them. He told them that they had somewhere to go and a plan of how to get there safely, and that there was food enough for all of them for a day or two. That with any luck, they should be in New York soon enough, and that barring unforeseen circumstances once they were there they should be provided for. He told them all that they should continue to move until nightfall, and no one disagreed. He made sure what he was saying reached those who had already left who were still in range of his powers, and a few came back to come with them. Not many, but a few. Those who didn't were generally thankful for the offer, but they continued on their own anyway.

There was no reason to stay after that. They moved back into the trees, to hide in the hills while they walked, and Charles directed them roughly in the direction of a nearby town. Not the closest one, because that would be too obvious, but the one he and Erik had chosen. Tomorrow, when Charles was, hopefully, strong enough, he and Erik would go into the small city and…. borrow three or four buses and their drivers. Whether they were city buses or school buses would depend on what was handy and at the edge of the town. They didn't want to attract attention, after all.

Charles hated the idea of forcing anyone to do anything at all, but it was the safest way to get everyone to the Xavier estate. And the three or four humans borrowed would never remember what had happened. They could borrow just the buses—surely there were at least a few among them who could drive that large a vehicle—but if they did that the vehicles would not be returned, and they could be traced, and the estate could be found. They could be found. No, as much as he hated to control anyone, it was the only choice. The drivers would bring their vehicles back home, and no one would be the wiser. Everyone still with them knew the basics of this plan now, and they went into the hills contentedly, knowing that they wouldn't be out here for much longer.

Jean seemed content with Logan, so Charles nodded him on with her and assured the other mutant that Erik could help him if he needed the support. Raven and Hank went, too, with Sean and Darwin and Alex, and Erik raised an eyebrow at him when he didn't move.

Could you give us a moment, my friend?

Erik's gaze shifted to Moira for a moment and then back to Charles, and he nodded almost imperceptibly and turned to follow the others.

When they were alone Moira faced him, and took his other hand, too. Charles waited for it to bother him, but it didn't, and he let out a breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"This isn't the time for this, you know," she answered, smiling a little.

"I know that. I just…before we went on, you needed to know that I—"

"I know."

I love you, he told her anyway, silently.

I love you, too. No matter how stubborn you are.

Charles laughed weakly, though he trailed off when her hands slid from his and made their way up his arms instead, to his shoulders.

"Is this okay?" she asked quietly. "What's okay right now?"

"I'm not entirely sure of that myself, to be quite honest…" But he saw where she was going, and before he could be too afraid of it he pulled her into his arms himself. Just a hug. A gentle one. But before he'd thought even that would be too much, but right now it wasn't. Right now it was all right.

Right now it was good.

Moira returned the embrace and Charles smiled into her hair, telling himself that there was no reason for the tears in his eyes but of course his body didn't listen. He laughed again, amused at himself.

"Charles?" When Moira pulled back to look at him, still holding his shoulders, she must have seen that his eyes were swimming because one of her hands moved instinctively to his face.

That he pulled away from, before he could really think about it. He remembered the flashback it had caused when she'd done that in the infirmary, and he was afraid if it happening again. All of that went through his mind instantly, before he even moved, and once he had he felt awfully about it whether he should or not.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but Moira let her hand fall back to his shoulder and shook her head. "It's okay…it's okay. I'm sorry. I know it'll take time…"

He smiled weakly. "And you're certain you're patient enough?"

Moira pulled him gently back to her, and he went. "For you I am," she whispered.

Charles held on tighter this time.

Erik waited for them at the tree line, not minding at all, and if anything perhaps he paid a bit too much attention. But he was glad that Charles had come to his senses; after everything he had been through in the past two years, he deserved happiness. He deserved to have someone at his side to share his freedom with.

And to help him shoulder the responsibility that was now, apparently, his—of leading these people. Into what, Erik wasn't sure yet, and he didn't think Charles knew either, but he planned to do everything he could to help too.

Charles smiled gratefully at him when he and Moira made it into the woods and Erik offered an arm to help him, and right now the fact that they didn't have everything figured out didn't seem so frightening.

Not while they all had each other.

Family. The word had come up around Charles and Raven before, and Erik was feeling its warm weight again now.

He had a family now, and they were finally going home.

Chapter Text

Sleeping on the ground in the woods may not have been the most comfortable way to go, but Charles—and, he suspected, most everyone else—slept easily. It wasn't where they were; it was what they were.

Free.

They had decided before stopping for the night that there should be someone keeping watch through the night, and Charles had wanted to take a shift but Erik and Moira both refused to let him. In the end it was Erik, Logan, Hank, and Darwin who split up the time. Moira, meanwhile, found a decent patch of fallen leaves, made certain he laid down, and made him promise not worry about anything for now and to sleep.

She started to move away but he wouldn't release her hand. Taking the hint, she lay down beside him, not too close but there, and Charles smiled at her thankfully before he let his eyes close.

What they found the next morning were school buses, being parked at the edge of a field after bringing the local children to school for the day.

They would be four buses short that afternoon. To Charles it wasn't the most ideal situation, but again it was the only option they had.

He sat with Moira in the second seat on the first bus, behind Erik. Raven and Hank were across from them and Logan was behind Raven and Hank, with Jean. Though Jean spent part of the trip in Charles's lap, too. Sitting down he could hold her just fine.

They split what was left of the food they'd taken from the facility between the four vehicles, and they were on their way.

With children and with four large vehicles needing gasoline, they had to stop twice in the eight or nine hours it took to reach Westchester, New York. They did it in places that were as out of the way as possible, and both stops were a drain on Charles, making sure what people were about didn't see anything strange. He had to connect with Jean for support again before the trip was out, but it didn't help as much as before. He was simply too exhausted, no matter how much sleep he may or may not have gotten the night before. It was longstanding, the exhaustion and weakness, and it was taking its toll.

The others noticed. Of course they did. He kept the signs at bay as well as he could, but Raven and Erik, at least, knew him well enough to see through him, and Moira was attentive. She saw it, too. She encouraged him to rest, offering her shoulder, but Charles was too tightly-wound for that.

He wouldn't be able to relax until they'd made it where they were going. Erik glowered a bit and Raven rolled her eyes, but he couldn't rest. Even though the instructions had been planted and direct control of the drivers did not necessarily need to be maintained he kept constant tabs on them, anyway—to be absolutely sure nothing failed, and to make certain, too, that they were all right. He felt badly enough for using them already.

He kept up with how everyone else was, too, doing light sweeps to be sure there were no problems, especially with those who were injured.

They lost people at both stops. Or rather, people left. It didn't quite come as a surprise; Charles had known from the beginning, when he'd told them all what they were going to do, that some of them had only planned to take advantage of the transportation to put a state or two between themselves and the facility in Virginia, and he wouldn't deny them that. At both stops some of them left the buses and melted into the landscape. At the second stop Charles even told everyone that it was the likely the last one before Westchester; he wanted to give them all a chance to make their own choices. So more left at the second stop. By the time they neared their destination their numbers were under two hundred.

Charles had mixed feelings as the buses pulled up the long drive to the Xavier estate, and exchanging a glance with Raven he knew she felt the same. There were so many bad memories here, but there good ones, too—all of them involving his sister, but for the few he retained from before his father's death.

But of course the bad was in perspective now. None of it was as awful as much of the last two years had been. It was strange how much that helped. Or maybe it wasn't.

He knew everyone was staring as the house came into view through the trees. It was a mansion, really, certainly enough room for the hundred and ninety-two of them left, at least for a while, and he didn't think any of them had been expecting anything quite like what they saw. The bus was awash with murmurs now.

Jean, asleep on Logan's shoulder at the time, woke up to blink groggily at the estate. "We're gonna stay here?" she asked. She slid from Logan's lap to come climb back into his, and Moira helped pull her up because Charles couldn't, but he wrapped his arms around her once she was in place.

"Yes, we are," he told her. "What do you think?"

"It's big."

Charles chuckled, tired but happy. There would be much to do, getting everyone settled in for the time being, but they were safe now.

This is yours? Erik questioned silently.

No. It's ours.

The moment everyone was off the buses and the four vehicles had disappeared down the drive again, back to where they'd come from, Charles crumpled. He may well have hit the ground, but Erik caught him and pulled one of his friend's arms around his shoulders and held on to keep him upright.

His eyelids were drooping, quite a change from just a few moments before, and Erik frowned as Raven and Moira crowded a bit too close in alarm. He waved them back a bit and wondered how much effort Charles had been putting in when it came to keeping everything in check to get here safely. He realized it must have been quite a bit.

"You need more rest," he observed.

"I'll get it soon enough. We uhm…we should get everyone inside…" Charles motioned to the main doors. "And actually, if you wouldn't mind…we don't have any keys. The ones we had were in the apartment at Oxford. With no one living here it was too much of a risk to leaving any lying about here anywhere…"

Erik nodded in understanding and helped his friend to the doors. A movement of his free hand and the heavy lock was undone. He pushed the doors open with a thought, and they were staring into a highly expensive-looking foyer—plush carpets on hard-wood floors, wood paneling on the walls, wide stairs that led up to the second and third stories it seemed the place had, and an overly large chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the center of the open front area of the mansion.

We certainly won't be short on space. I think there would be enough floor space for all of us to sleep HERE.

Charles smiled in amusement, but when he tried to straighten he slumped again, against Erik's side. He needed the help Erik gave him to get into the house. Erik pulled him carefully inside and moved off the side of the door, Raven and Moira and their friends moving in and out of the way with them to let everyone else pour inside.

Many of them were gaping. Erik didn't blame them.

"We should decide how to assign rooms…" Charles trailed quietly. "Or perhaps we shouldn't bother. As you said, there is certainly enough space, and they could divide themselves into small groups they would rather be in better than we could…'

"Let me worry about that," Raven said, touching his arm. "I know this house as well as you do; I can take care of the details. You should go get some sleep."

"But…"

"No buts. Go on. Erik, can you help him…? He can show you where to go." Raven looked to her brother again. "You and Moira should take the master suite."

"I would be perfectly fine in my old room," Charles frowned. "You and Hank should—"

"Hey, you're the one these people are going to look to. You're going to be in charge here. Hank and I will be fine in my room."

"But—god, why are we arguing about this now? I can't sleep yet; there is far to much to be done," Charles protested.

Erik watched them go back and forth, glad beyond words that there was nothing to taint moments like this anymore. Because they were no longer prisoners.

The other ex-prisoners were not begrudging the fact that no one was telling them anything yet; they seemed perfectly content to take in where they were without instructions. The children, meanwhile, where being looked after, crowded around Logan. Sean and Alex and a couple of young women were helping him to keep them together and behaved.

"I told you; I can deal with all of that," Raven said again. "You wouldn't be much help right now as it is, and you're asleep on your feet anyway."

"But…" Charles trailed off again, but he had no more arguments. His eyelids seemed heavier by the moment, and when he swayed Erik simply picked him up.

"Where am I going?" he asked. Since, apparently, Charles was no longer awake enough to give him directions.

"Straight up to the second floor, first door on the left," Raven told him.

"That's the master?"

"Right."

"All right, all right," Charles was muttering. "At least put Erik in my old room, then, so I know who's in there…" His eyes didn't open, and Moira smiled and Erik exchanged an amused glance with Raven.

Raven, meanwhile, shrugged. "You heard him. That would mean yours is the second door on the right. If you're tired too, have at."

"No, I'll come back down to help," Erik told her.

"I would, but I don't want to leave him alone," Moira said more softly. Charles didn't react to that, meaning he was probably relatively close to sleep if he wasn't already there.

Raven nodded and moved off with Hank, calling to the population in general as Erik and Moira headed up the stairs first with Charles.

"Hey! Hey! Everybody? Okay, listen. Yeah, there's gonna be a lot more to figure out later, and we'll get everybody real clothes and find more food, but for now I figure we're all in need of sleep. This place is big enough, so you can split yourselves up; after the first two or three doors on each side of the main hall on the second floor, anything else is fair game…"

Raven's voice faded behind them as they reached the second floor. It was getting dark outside, and the corridor was dim with little light coming through the windows, but when Erik pushed open the first door on the left Moira slipped in first and found the light switch. It worked. Charles and Raven had kept the power on here while they were away in England.

"Easier than having it turned back on after being away as long as we'd planned to be." Charles murmured from his arms. "Made sure the basic fee was paid for quite a while before we left; wasn't as if we couldn't afford it…" He really was exhausted, if he was picking up Erik's thoughts by accident.

Moira glanced at Charles and raised an eyebrow at Erik.

"The power," Erik explained. "I was wondering about it."

"Right…" She crossed through the sitting room of the master suite and into the bedroom, and Erik followed her. By the time he made it to the bedroom she was pulling down the covers on the nearest side of the huge bed.

It was good that it was big. Erik had seen the way they'd slept the night before. Charles still needed his space, but he didn't want Moira too far away, either. This room, hopefully, would work well for them while Charles continued to recover; while they tried to make sense of things.

He let Charles down on the edge of the bed, and Moira bent to pull off his shoes. Erik held his shoulder and tried to make eye contact, but while his eyes were open to slits now he was still too close to sleep for proper communication. Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with that right now.

"Are you all right besides needing to rest? Do you need anything else?" Charles shook his head minutely, stifling a yawn, and Erik motioned to the horrid brown jumpsuit next. "Do you want to get this off first?"

Charles shrugged, but when Erik reach for the zipper at his neck Charles moved much more quickly than he'd thought him capable at the moment, clamping a hand over Erik's and stopping him. Charles's eyes were suddenly wide, and Erik's chest clenched when he realized that his friend was too groggy to register things properly, and what Erik had tried to do had sent him into panic mode.

Erik didn't move his hand away but he didn't continue, either. He went still, and spoke gently. "Charles, it's all right. This is me. It's Erik. You know it's me. Moira's here too. We're just going to get this thing off of you so you can sleep. You'll sleep easier without it; you don't have to wear it anymore. It's all right. Is that all right?"

Moira had stood up again, and she was frozen in place beside Erik, not knowing what to do but watch and hope Erik knew what he was doing.

Erik hoped he knew what he was doing.

But Charles slowly focused on him, and the panic subsided and he relaxed and released Erik's hand and wrist and nodded weakly. Now there was shame in place of the fear.

I'm sorry…

Erik shook his head a bit. I've told you not to worry about it, Charles. It's not your fault.

Charles cooperated after that, helping Erik and Moira to pull the stupid jumpsuit off.

Erik fully planned to burn it. In fact, he was sure many here felt the same. Perhaps they could have a bonfire at some point in the near future. Charles must have caught that, because he chuckled absently as Moira guided him up to the pillows at the head of the bed and pulled the covers back up and over him. An arm went around his chest for a moment and he winced, but otherwise he seemed comfortable, and the satisfied sound he made when he was settled was one of the most rewarding things Erik had heard in his lifetime.

Moira seemed to feel the same. She was still perched on the edge of the bed at the head, and she was smiling softly. She reached out, tentatively, to stroke the hair at the back of Charles's head—deliberately not too close to his face, Erik noted with pang—and it worked just fine. Charles didn't flinch. Instead, the corners of his mouth quirked up as he drifted off.

Erik felt better again after that until he realized that as thick as the blankets on the bed were one almost wouldn't be able to tell anyone was under them except for the tousled head that was just visible. Charles was that small now. That thin, after everything he'd been through and improper food for two years. And he wasn't the only one, though he was one of the worst cases.

Well they would fix that.

"What are you doing in here?"

It was past midnight, and Raven had found a place on a couch in one of the dens to rest. The voice that startled her out of her doze was Hank's, and she sat up groggily. "Nothing."

"Don't you have a bedroom? If you're tired why aren't you in it?"

He came into view in the dimness as he drew closer, and the way the moonlight from the windows played off his new fur was nice. Either that, or she really was too tired. "If I go in that room and get in that bed, I'll go to sleep."

"Wouldn't that be the general idea?"

"Not at the moment. There's too much to do."

Hank eased onto the couch beside her and raised a blue eyebrow. "Like what? Most everyone's settled in for the night."

"Yeah, but I have to go through the pantry AND the attic so I know what to send the boys to town for in the morning as far as food and clothes are concerned. With more focus on the food, because I'm sure with Charles's parents' things along with our clothes stored from all the way back to when we were kids we've got enough here to find something to fit most of us, but we'll need more of those things that shouldn't really be shared. On that note, one of the girls should go too…"

"You're thinking way too hard," Hank said, shaking his head and pulling her back against his shoulder. "We just got here. Take it easy for a few minutes."

Raven smirked some. "That's what I've been doing; you interrupted me."

"No, I meant you need some real sleep. We were all up at the crack of dawn this morning, and we slept on the ground."

"I don't have time for sleep," she sighed. "Not with two hundred people to feed. I mean, I at least glanced in the pantry earlier and it looks like there's still a lot of the non-perishable stuff in there and that's all well and good but we need real food—meat and bread and milk and other things like that. We can arrange for big regular deliveries later—that's the way this house was run before—but we'll be on our own until we can do it. We'll have to get settled first; decide how to present ourselves so no one wonders too much about how many people we have out here…don't have any clue how. Charles and I talked enough about what to do once we were out, but not much involved this place because we didn't know if it would be safe to come here."

She sat up quickly. "Damn. I have to see how much gas is stored in the garage too—would it even be any good? The cars have to have gas to run—"

Hank pulled her back again. "You really are thinking too hard. It's good you're trying to make sure everything gets done, but you don't have to do it on your own."

Raven settled against him again, reluctantly. She should be up and doing something. "I know that…"

"Then get some sleep, and I'll help you with all of it in the morning. I'm sure we can enlist more help, too, as soon as everyone's up."

"But…I wanted it all to be done when they got up, so they could go ahead and go to town for what we need, and—"

"And we'll all survive if it all takes a few more hours than you were planning. Sleep. If you sleep, I'll sleep."

Raven scowled, but she didn't move to sit up again. "Fine," she huffed. "Two hours."

"That doesn't count."

"I'll make it three, and if you argue again it'll only be one."

Hank snorted, but she heard amusement in it and Raven relaxed, triumphant, as he wrapped his arms around her and they stretched out and settled deeper into the couch's cushions.

"Mmm…being fuzzy makes you all warm," she mumbled later. His soft laugh was a rumble against her ear. Raven smiled and turned over into his chest, and slept.

They didn't wake til morning.

Charles woke in his parents' bed and for a moment he was sure it had all been a dream. He was eight years old again and none of it had happened. Father never died, Mother never stopped caring, his stepfather and stepbrother never existed, and he never had to learn that he was different. He'd never been locked away and hurt because of it.

But he wasn't a child. The thin, longer limbs spread beneath the blankets and the way his body ached told him that.

He wasn't sad; if none of it had happened he never would have had Raven, or Erik, or Moira, but…it would have been nice. To be eight years old again, sleeping between his parents. When his biggest problems were childish nightmares and trying not to be afraid of the dark and getting used to the massive house they'd moved into here in New York. Getting used to being in America, and not England.

If he were eight years old again he wouldn't be thirty-two, and he wouldn't have to remember all of the bad from the last twenty-four years. More specifically, from the last two, and with that perspective returned.

Charles sat up slowly, and found that his chest didn't ache as much as he'd thought. A good night of sleep in a decent bed had helped. The ache in his head that had seemed constant for so long was dulled now, too, and he supposed having the stress of being a prisoner lifted would do that. He smiled to himself then.

They'd done it.

"There you are. I was debating whether or not to worry."

Charles looked up, and Moira was in the open doorway that separated the bedroom from the sitting room of the master suite.

"Oh…I'm sorry. How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost a day. It must have been six or seven when we brought you up here last night, and it's almost four now."

"In the afternoon?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, in the afternoon," Moira laughed. "I'd think the windows would be dark if it were four in the morning."

Charles twisted a bit to see that there was indeed late afternoon light spilling through the curtains. "Oh…" The sore ribs, though better than before, still did not appreciate the way he'd moved, however, and he winced.

Moira disappeared into the bathroom then, and came out with a glass of water and two pills. "Here. Raven found the over the counter medicine in the kitchen and sent some up with me this morning. God knows how long it's been there, but it looks fine. It should do some good, at least," she told him. She held out the glass and the medicine, and Charles hesitated only because it had been quite a while since anyone had offered him anything like that at all.

There had been no painkillers in the med kits at the mutant facility.

"Charles?"

He shook his head and smiled sheepishly. "Nothing. Thank you." He took the glass and the medicine gratefully, and swallowed the pills. As he gulped down the rest of the water Moira lowered herself to the edge of the bed beside him and waited until he'd set the glass aside on the nightstand.

"I hope after that long you slept well," she told him, lips quirking again.

"I did, thank you. Or I must have. I feel better and I can't remember a thing after getting off the bus." His eyebrows went up. "Good lord! There must be so much to do. I—"

"Raven's done quite the job of getting everyone settled in, Charles, and she has plenty of help. You have nothing to worry about. Most everyone has other clothes now, and a few of the boys are in town getting more and buying better food than what's preserved in the pantry as we speak."

"I would assume she got one of the safes open, then…"

"With Erik's help."

"Ah. Of course." Charles frowned. "They could have woken me up long enough to ask where the codes were hidden."

"Don't worry; he didn't hurt it."

"Well, no, I didn't think he had, and it isn't as if it's incredibly important; I was merely saying…" Moira raised an eyebrow at him and he trailed off. "What?"

"You," she said simply. She squeezed his hand and stood. "I'll let you get dressed—Raven put some of your clothes on the dresser."

"If it's as late as you say there's almost no point, and I certainly need to shower first."

"Whatever you need to do. I'll be downstairs. I'm sure they'll need help unloading and organizing everything when the guys get back."

Charles nodded. "All right…thank you."

She left, and Charles climbed carefully out of the king-sized bed, noticing that the other side was rumpled, too. Moira had slept in here, with him. Even if he couldn't stay to close for too long yet, he would have wanted it that way, at least the way they'd slept in the woods—near, but with enough space for comfort. He knew it had been a bit frustrating for her, and must have been last night, as well, but she'd done it. For him.

He knew then that he would never have to doubt that she loved him.

He was only in shorts and t-shirt and vaguely a bit of last night came back—Erik and Moira getting that blasted brown thing off of him. It was nowhere in sight now, and he was glad to know most of the others had been able to rid themselves of them, too.

He went to the dresser and found not one but two tall stacks of clothing on top—likely whatever had been in the front of his closet in his old room. A few pairs of shoes had been left in a heap on the floor by the dresser, and he knew Raven knew the unruliness would bother him, but when it seemed she had been doing so much in the last twenty-four hours he couldn't be annoyed with her for not taking the time to straighten them.

Taking a shower completely alone for the first time in nearly two years seemed a luxury, even when the water only remained warm for a few short minutes, which was the likely the result of the amount of people in the house now. Showers had been cold and communal and weekly in their prison, scheduled by group and sex, and anything was better than that.

Charles didn't think about the bathroom door until he'd come out into the bedroom again, towel around his waist. He glanced back and realized that the door had been open, and that he'd never closed it. Granted, Moira had closed the suite door and there hadn't been any particular reason to close the bathroom door, but he hadn't even thought about it. He hadn't touched the door.

He shoved the thought away, not understanding why it mattered, and went back to the dresser to decide what of the things Raven had left him to put on. Bless her, she hadn't forgotten belts and when he looked more closely he realized that most of the clothes were older ones—high school, first years of college…the same styles as later, but smaller sizes. That would help.

It was disconcerting that he was having trouble keeping a towel on.

Well, anyway.

He pulled on well-worn khakis and a t-shirt, not bothering with a better shirt and throwing a sweater over it instead. God, a sweater. It was good to be warm for once. The temperature in the facility had been average—not warm, not cold. Tolerable. But, the same as many, he had never felt truly warm enough. Not unless Raven were beside him. It was another reason her sitting with him or falling asleep on his bunk had become common over time, especially when he began to lose weight faster.

Raven's choice of clothes to bring did help; he didn't need to pull the belt as tight as he'd been afraid of, and when he was dressed he looked almost presentable. The navy sweater still swallowed him, and the extra fabric of the t-shirt bunched under it, but at least that wasn't visible. It was all as good as it was going to get. At least the house loafers he pushed onto his feet fit normally.

When he went to leave the suite, though, Charles understood what it had been about the door. He understood when he had stopped and was staring at the closed suite door as if it might hurt him. He realized, then, that he hadn't touched the bathroom door because…he had been afraid to.

If he had closed it he would have had to open it again, and as he stared at this door and realized he was afraid it wouldn't open he knew he'd been afraid of the same with the bathroom.

He had not opened a door on his own in two years. Part of him was suddenly afraid that if he tried to open this one it would trap him in, and he would be back in the cell and the escape would all have been a wonderful but painful dream.

Raven…? he thought weakly.

Charles? Hey. Moira told me you were up. How are you doing?

All right, I suppose. Thank you for bringing the clothes. I uhm…I just…

Her tone changed immediately when she sensed that something might be wrong. What is it? she asked quickly.

Nothing, he thought quickly. He hesitated, and then amended. Tell me I'm not dreaming.

Raven's sigh in his mind was difficult to decipher. You're not dreaming, Charles. Come downstairs; you must be hungry. He was, but still he hesitated. Charles, do you need me? Raven asked then.

Charles let out a breath. No…thank you. I'm all right. I just…well…

I know, came the quiet answer.

It still took another moment or two before he reached out, but finally he told himself that the past was the past—he was free now, they were all free—and he opened the door.

Despite what he'd told her, Raven was on the other side anyway. He hadn't kept tabs on her after that, and it surprised him, but…then again not really. She smiled knowingly at him; gentle understanding, and he couldn't help but smile tiredly but happily back.

She looked good, and he told her so. She'd managed to fit a shower in somewhere, too, and she'd chosen the same tactic she'd decided on for him and found clothes that were a bit older, that fit her better now than the ones she'd been wearing when they were living at Oxford just before all of this would.

"Thanks," she smirked. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"You needn't lie to me," Charles answered in amusement.

"I wasn't." At that Raven held out a hand, beckoning him from the room. Charles took it, and his first steps into their new lives were into his sister's arms.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Charlie?"

It could only be Logan, and it was, catching Charles and Raven at the top of the stairs. Charles sent his sister on and turned.

"Logan? What is it?"

The other mutant slowed to a stop and shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging. He looked much more at home in jeans. "I was waitin' for you to get up before I left."

"Left? You're leaving so soon?"

"I wanted be sure you all got here in one piece, but I can't stay. Gotta find Victor."

His brother, Charles remembered. "Oh…yes, of course. I'll be sorry to see you go, then. I knew Jean will be as well."

Logan winced, a hand coming of his pocket to scrub the back of his head absently. "Uh…yeah, about that…" Charles raised an eyebrow, and he continued. "Look, can you say goodbye to her for me?"

"Why can't you tell her yourself?"

The taller mutant shrugged again. "I'm gonna miss her too, but what am I supposed to say to the kid? She's like five. I don't think I'm supposed to say bye, nice knowing you, I'll probably see you never."

"How do you know you'll never see her?"

"Come on, really. You've been in my head; you know what my life's been like. How likely do you think it really is I'll ever see her again? Any of you?"

Charles smiled. "Well I know I certainly do hope that we cross paths again. It isn't impossible. The world is not quite as large as it seems, really."

Logan shook his head. "You and your optimism.

"I try." He paused. "I'll tell her, if I must."

"Thanks…" He offered a hand. "For everything."

"The same to you," Charles said sincerely. He took the other mutant's hand and shook it. "And good luck."

Logan laughed once. "Thanks, but maybe you ought to keep your luck. With this many people around, whatever you do here you're gonna need it." He released Charles's hand and took a step back, studying him for a brief moment. "But I think you'll be fine."

The library was large and it was full, books in shelves to the ceiling. Erik had never seen so many books at once. He wasn't exactly an avid reader, but browsing was something to do. There wasn't much else, with Raven and the others having what needed to be done well in hand. He had asked more than once if there were anything he could help with, but beyond getting the safe open here he was now, feeling inadequate and useless and unsuited to the real world even though every mutant he passed in the hall smiled at him or thanked him or both, knowing who he was and what he had done.

But books were only interesting to him for so long. He found himself at a window, watching the children play outside with those willing to watch them.

Now if only Charles would wake up, maybe he wouldn't be so damn bored.

That, and he needed to know his friend was all right.

"We're all going to have adjusting to do."

He'd been lost enough in thought that he hadn't heard the door open, but it was Charles's voice and Erik turned to find his friend closing said library doors again behind him.

"You're up. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I'm quite rested; thank you."

Charles walked a bit gingerly, but other than that he did look much better—awake and clean and moving under his own power.

And in his own clothes. Erik wasn't sure what he'd expected, but the casual academic look suited Charles perfectly. Somehow even the fact that the clothes were too big for him now didn't seem out of place. He looked like Charles.

"So that's what you look like when you're not being a lab rat."

Charles's eyebrows went up a little, and he glanced down at himself. "Yes, well…I never said I was ever at the height of style."

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it; anything is better than those damn prison suits they put all of you in."

"Though that isn't saying much…"

Erik smirked. "You look fine, Charles. Not that you should be worried about it."

He came to the couch near the window Erik was standing at and leaned against it's side, crossing his arms and all but burying himself in his sweater in the process. His fingers opened and closed, grasping at a thin body that didn't fill the clothes anymore. "I'm not…"

But he was, and Erik knew why. He couldn't help but smile. "What you look like doesn't matter to her, you know."

Charles's cheeks were suddenly hot. "That's not what I—I mean—" He gave up, huffing. "It doesn't matter yet anyhow. We have too far to go before that matters."

"You'll get there," Erik told him again.

"Well thank you for the confidence, I suppose."

Erik was leaning too, relaxed against the window frame, and for a while they were both silent, but it was comfortable.

"You were in my head when you walked in here."

Charles smiled a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm still having a bit of trouble staying out at times, at least with those I'm close to. I'll finish healing and be to rights soon enough."

Erik was just close enough to reach out and pick at the sweater, pulling out a bit of the empty space. "We'll have to get some meat back on those bones, too. You know, I'm actually a decent cook."

Charles batted the hand away and patted his sweater back down. "Yes, you may have mentioned it—or I saw it when we first met and I saw…well…everything. I'm not sure. Can you cook for two hundred people, though?"

"Let the women do that."

"Getting traditional, are you?"

"No, I don't care who does it; I'm just not cooking for two hundred people."

"They already look to you, you know."

Erik snorted, but he was still smiling. "But they look to you more. We've been over this." Charles chuckled quietly, but he trailed off and looked away and Erik was getting that feeling that something was off with his friend. "Charles?"

Charles shrugged. "It's nothing, it's just…good to laugh without feeling guilty about it, I suppose—without wondering when the next thing will happen that will make me wonder why I ever bother to laugh at all." He laughed again, once, and he was trying to smile but his eyes were misty. "Who would have thought being able to open a door could mean so much?" It wasn't the same subject but it was.

"You were saying something about all of us having adjusting to do?" Erik said quietly.

"Hmm…yes. Quite." Charles swiped almost angrily at his eyes, still not looking up. "I'm sorry, I uhm…I'm sorry. I'm all right."

"I know what it feels like."

Maybe it hadn't been him this time, not really, other than the week he'd been tossed in with Charles and Raven, but it had been him a long time ago, in the camps. He knew.

Charles let out one more heavy breath and braced himself against the back of the couch again, composed now. "I know…" He winced, as if recalling Erik's memories. "I know. Perhaps that's the reason I can say things like that to you."

"Everyone else here knows now, Charles. Even Moira isn't completely ignorant. She was trapped, too. In a lie. We all share something here."

Finally Charles managed to smile again. "That is certainly true, but the rest of them do not happen to be my best friend."

"Who is, then?" Erik smirked.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Charles said, shaking his head in amusement. He moved from the couch-back to the other side of the window frame then, and Erik glanced down at the children playing on the grounds again before looking up at Charles.

"So what now?"

Charles had been looking down too, and he blinked as he lifted his head again. "What?"

Erik gestured vaguely—outside, the children, the mansion, everyone in it—"What now?" Shaw and Frost were still out there, and they would be taken care of as soon as they were found again. Charles had promised him that, and he still believed in his friend; he knew the promise wouldn't be broken. Erik meant beyond that.

Charles's eyebrows went up, and it was clear he hadn't quite gotten that far. "I know I'd like to keep this place open to mutants who need somewhere to go. I want to help those that are here, and more besides them, if I can. Beyond that I'm not certain."

"I thought it would be something like that…"

"Why? Surely you don't have any objections—"

There was mild alarm in his voice, and Erik quickly put him at ease. "No. I'm not going anywhere, Charles."

And Charles was suddenly red again, but he also seemed highly relieved. "I-I uhm—I meant—oh, bugger it. If I'm going to be making a sentimental fool of myself until I'm more well anyhow I might as well get used to it."

"You'll still be doing it when you're healthy, if what you've been like as long as I've known you is any indication," Erik deadpanned.

"I will harm you."

"You could try." Then he slapped himself, and was left staring at his hand.

"In my defense, I did warn you."

Erik crossed his arms and glared good-naturedly. "Be glad that Raven and Moira both would slaughter me if I did anything to you. Otherwise you would be in serious danger."

Charles smiled cheekily. "I'm so terribly frightened."

Erik snorted again, and didn't bother giving a warning before he lunged. It was playful, a harmless swipe, and Charles took a quick step back, leaning away, and he was still smiling and seemed to be thinking of making a move in return when he tripped over the edge of an accent carpet and went down.

"Charles—!" Alarms went off in Erik's head at the sharp cry Charles gave, but when he'd used his momentum to carry him to his knees at his friend's side Charles was laughing. He was grimacing and holding his side, but he was laughing.

"Charles?"

"I'm all right; I'm fine," he chuckled. Though he stopped after that and made a small sound when he made another face.

"We need to get you a dictionary, too. Apparently even with all of these books you never had one; you don't know the definitions of those words," Erik groused. He helped Charles sit up the rest of the way, then stood and hauled him carefully to his feet.

Charles was shrugging, though he was still holding his chest. "I really am fine, Erik," he said with a smile.

"Fine. Have you eaten anything yet?"

"Not just yet; I was about to see to that. Care to join me?"

At that Charles's stomach complained loudly, and Erik was the one to laugh now. "I'll come make sure you eat enough."

Charles shrugged, and as they were leaving the library he spoke up once more. "The dictionaries are on the back wall, by the way—bottom shelf on the left."

Charles thought it would be difficult to get back to sleep that night, as late as he'd woken up, but it wasn't so. By just short of midnight—after dinner and some browsing of the library and more than one game of chess with Erik, one or two of which Moira had watched before retiring herself—Charles was tired again and easily ready to craw back into bed.

Everyone seemed tired, not much different yet physically than they had seemed while they were still prisoners, but he supposed it would take time for all of them to correct their diets, regain their strength, and be more energetic again. Not that there wasn't already enough energy to go around, from the simple fact of being free.

Either way, he was tired now, and Erik seemed a bit like he could use sleep himself. They climbed the stairs and parted at the top, Charles pushing his way quietly into the master suite. Moira was not quite asleep, his mind told him, but nevertheless he didn't want to disturb her. He took the first pair of pajamas he found in the piles Raven had left earlier today, changed, and climbed quietly under the covers on his side of the bed.

He had only been there a moment when Moira turned over to look at him, and his eyebrows went up. "You should be asleep."

"I was waiting for you," she said quietly, smiling sleepily. She held out her hand on the mattress, and Charles swallowed something back in his throat and threaded his fingers through hers between them. He slid closer, closing the distance between them by half, squeezing her hand and telling himself it would be all right.

And it was.

Moira smiled more brightly for a moment, and maybe her eyes were damp but in the dimness he couldn't tell for sure. She was asleep quickly after that, but Charles was awake much longer than he'd planned to be, watching her sleep because she was beautiful that way and she was there and she loved him.

The next morning they had a real breakfast, cooked from the supplies that had been brought back from town. There had been several eager to step up to cook—some who enjoyed it and had not had the chance for so long—and the meal was absolutely astounding. Though the fact that it was the first decent one most of them had had in quite a while was a factor.

Life on the Xavier estate began to settle into something of a rhythm after that, for those that stayed. Some didn't. They had accepted the offer of shelter as a springboard for getting back on their feet, becoming independent again, and Charles understood that. Some of them left after only a few days, and after a few weeks more began to go—especially those roughly his age and older, who were much more interested in living their own lives again.

But they were grateful, and while that part didn't matter to him it was nice, and he was grateful to be able to give them anything they needed before they left that would help them to start again. Some even accepted help in creating new identities for further safety, which was doable thanks to the Xavier fortune and contacts Moira had outside of the CIA. Charles hated the idea that such things might be necessary in some cases now, but it didn't surprise him after the past two years of his life.

They took steps, too, to find the parents of the children who had no relatives that had also been at the mutant facility. As the weeks wore on and became more then two months, the population of the estate dwindled to mostly young people and the remaining children and a few older couples and individuals who had either expressed a desire to stay or were not quite ready to move on. Charles made it clear that they were all welcome for as long as they chose to stay, even indefinitely.

It was nice to have so many about anyhow, after such a lonely childhood. Raven had made it better, but she had also experienced its drawbacks with him. She seemed to enjoy having the others here, as well.

But Jean was not staying. She was young, and she needed to be with her parents. They had been found, and they were coming to collect her.

"You're gonna be okay though, right?" she asked him once. It was the day before her parents were to arrive and the children were on the other side of the room. One of the women watching them read to them from some of the few remaining children's books that were here, but Jean had no interest. She was on a couch by the fire with Charles, in his lap and interrupting him reading a book of his own. It had been so long since he'd read anything at all and he'd been devouring books whenever he could since they'd made it here, but for Jean he was more than willing to put it down for a while.

"Yes, Jean; I'll be all right."

"I don't feel you all sad anymore. Not like before."

She didn't know what she was talking about, of course, but he knew what she meant. The deep depression after what had happened in the yard what he'd thought it meant for himself and Moira…she'd sensed it in him from the beginning, even if—thank god—she'd never been able to read enough into it to know exactly what it was.

"No, I don't feel like before. I'm getting better."

And he was. The weeks had brought more than change in the mansion's population. After several weeks everyone was looking healthier, including himself. His ribs didn't ache anymore, but for a twinge here and there, and his appetite was improving and Erik no longer shook his head at him in frustration at the dinner table.

Though those weren't the most important changes, for him. It was happening slowly, as he'd been all but sure it would have to, but he was making progress. With Moira. There was no distance between them, now; he could sleep beside her, hold much more than her hand while they drifted off, and as long as they were both clothed it was all fine. It was still platonic, but it was fine. The rest would take more of that time, but for her he was willing to wait and to work for it and it didn't seem as if she were going anywhere, either.

There were still nightmares, of course, but when he woke from them Moira's arms were a comfort now, rather than any inducer of further panic.

"Good." Jean was smiling at him, and Charles pulled himself from his reverie and smiled back.

"I should thank you again, for everything you've done for me whether you meant to or not. I'm going to miss you, you know," he said.

She moved up on her knees in his lap and hugged him, prompting him to return the gesture. "You'll see me." She said it as if she knew, and he couldn't find it within himself to refute her. He could only hope she was right.

"I think I want to start a school here," Charles told Erik later, over chess. "For mutants." Erik was the first person he'd said anything of it to. And it didn't have anything specifically to do with the fact that Jean was leaving—or the strange connection he had always felt to the girl that was still there—but it was nice to think that if they did this she might have a reason to return someday. And really, it was idea he'd ben nursing for weeks. It was just that now he was sure it was what he wanted.

"It makes sense," Erik said. "You're a professor, after all."

"Not yet," Charles smiled indulgently. "Though if it happens I suppose I will be."

"Where would you get other teachers? Not to mention other students, once the young people here have gone."

Charles frowned, because he'd thought of that too. "Hank will have to re-build Cerebro eventually. We'll have to do a much better job of hiding it, but it can be done. I didn't mention the school, precisely, but I have talked to him about the device."

Erik looked like Charles felt then, stomach aching and head throbbing at the mere mention of Cerebro. "But you hate that thing," Erik said. He scowled, too, and it was clear that he did.

"I hated what I was forced to do with it, and what it did to me only after they had tinkered with it," Charles pointed out, reminding himself as much as Erik. "A correctly calibrated Cerebro under our control would only be helpful."

Hopefully by the time it was ready he would feel that, too, rather than simply know it.

Erik, meanwhile, was grudgingly letting his scowl go. "All right…what about until you've got it? Would you still need more teachers just to teach the potential students that are already here?"

"We have enough here to get started, at least. Myself, Hank for other sciences, Moira could teach other basic subjects, and I'm certain Raven and some of the others could, as well. And…well, we also have you."

Erik's eyebrows knit together and he looked away. "What could I teach anyone? How to lose their temper?"

"How not to, more like. You do know. You've improved greatly since I met you, in more ways than one. And the point of the school wouldn't be the general subjects, anyhow. Yes, that's important, but the idea would be to offer a place to them where they can learn to harness and control their powers free of the threat of ridicule."

"Control, then? You think I could teach them that? Most of the finer points I know I learned from you."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't teach. Everyone learned what they know from somewhere, or someone."

"But we have you for that."

Charles shrugged. "That doesn't mean I won't need help, my friend. I'm only one man, after all."

Erik looked at him for a while. "Then you're serious. This is what you want to do."

"I believe so. I'm quite serious."

And Erik smiled. "Then we'd better get to work."

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