Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4189413.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men:_First_Class_(2011)_-_Fandom, X-Men:_Days_of_Future_Past_(2014)_-
      Fandom, X-Men_(Movies), X-Men_(Comicverse), Marvel_Cinematic_Universe,
      Marvel_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Erik_Lehnsherr/Charles_Xavier, Logan_(X-Men)/Charles_Xavier, Moira
      MacTaggert/Charles_Xavier, Armando_Muñoz/Alex_Summers, Charles_Xavier/
      Other(s), Erik_Lehnsherr/Magda_(X-Men), Yuriko_Oyama/Raven_|_Mystique
  Character:
      Charles_Xavier, Erik_Lehnsherr, Armando_Muñoz, Logan_(X-Men), Alex
      Summers, Raven_|_Mystique, Hank_McCoy, Mesmero, Tessa, Magda_(X-Men),
      Yuriko_Oyama, Warren_Worthington_II, Warren_Worthington_III, Luchino
      Nefaria, Legion, En_Sabah_Nur
  Additional Tags:
      Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD, Past_Rape/Non-con, Alternate
      Universe, So_many_flashbacks, Erik_is_a_Stalker, Erik_Logic_Is_The_Best
      Logic, warning:_omnipotent_kids, warning:_Charles_Knows_Best, self-
      harming_with_sex, Infidelity, people_making_up_government_titles, The
      Media_is_evil, not_cute_not_misunderstood, just_EVIL, En_Sabah_Nur_means
      Troll, En_Sabah_Nur_thinks_he's_Zeus, Dark!Charles
  Series:
      Part 3 of Remember_You_Shall_Die
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-23 Completed: 2015-10-21 Chapters: 36/36 Words: 121591
****** Gods, Monsters, Fathers, and Sons ******
by MsMiaMimi_(Mc_Mimi)
Summary
     The world has (god I suck summaries)…
     The world has been turned upside down since the death of President
     Shaw and the rise of the Great Patriarch. Former Captain Charles
     Xavier is exalted by the globe as a new world leader but mysterious
     forces try to bring an end to it all. A new faith and an old cult
     interfere with his plans for world peace. As the Venerable Host, he
     is now haunted by ghosts, memories, regrets and a shameful longing to
     submit to his weaknesses.
***** The Appointment *****
                   **** Gray_City,_Utopia_February_1967 ****
 
Former General Arlington leads the lines of the dead-eyed worshippers. She
offers the monthly tribute on behalf of the Allied Forces and kneels at the
feet of the little Prince. The boy hardly pays her any attention from the dais.
He’s preoccupied with his toy soldiers, lining them up and knocking them down
on floor behind the throne.
Arlington bows anyway as if she’s been acknowledged and steps away, walking out
of the Great Hall. Next, the Prime Minister of Canada comes forward. Behind him
is almost one hundred dignitaries from all over the globe.
Charles stands in an open gallery over the throne room. He has more important
matters to see to today. Leaving this tedious task to Lucas is fine. His son
has grown tall and coltish. He has his mother’s coloring, her mouth and ears,
he thinks. Just looking at the boy hurts some times. Still, Charles delights in
the fact that his four year old son has his eyes. A few freckles dot across his
long nose. The boy’s accent is very proper. Charles couldn’t be more proud of
him.
Charles listens in on his son’s thoughts. The boy can hear Moira in his mind
sometimes. She tells him not to get into anymore mischief. Behave himself and
listen to his grandmother. Listen to his father. Be a good boy and study. In
anyone else this would be red flag for mental illness, but Charles believes his
son’s mind is trying to cope with numerous traumas that started before he was
even born. The fact hat he’s a precocious, happy child amazes Charles.
Lucas is torn between reading, paying attention to the ceremony, and conquering
the little battleground he made. The boy promptly decides he can read later and
believes the grownups don’t care what he thinks. So finishing the battle wins
out. He doesn’t look in the boxes that are sat down at the foot of the throne.
As his Aunt Angel flitters back and forth, handing the tributes to servants.
Charlesis satisfied with the proceedings and walks away.
 
In the months since the God woke up, the world has changed drastically. Some of
it was by Charles’s own hand, but mostly the Great Patriarch brought about this
new peace across the continents. Charles walks the halls to an antechamber
where his Council is taking tea. Tessa is dressed in a dark violet pantsuit,
her head covered in a dark scarf. She sits at the table as Hank pours her a
cup. Hank is still wearing his lab coat, and is probably itching to get back to
the Cerebro.
Darwin and Vincent are playing chess while Alex pretends to snore nearby.
Darwin warns him to go elsewhere and Vincent rolls his eyes, but they tolerate
the restless young one-eyed man. Charles clears his throat to gets everyone’s
attention. Darwin frowns and Alex stands to attention. Vincent smirks at him
while Tessa stands up to greet him properly, giving him a kiss on the each
cheek.
Hank, ever the productive little worker, promptly presents Charles with
paperwork and a pen. “I need a signature here and here before I get started for
the day.”
Charles smiles gently at his young friend. He quickly scrawls his name and lets
Hank escape the meeting.
Tessa leads him back to the table and pours him a cup of tea. “So this month’s
Tribute is the last, correct?” She asks looking up at him from under her
lashes. “We agreed on six months before, then seven, then eight. This is the
sort of thing that only breeds resentment, Charles. Captain America has been
very vocal about how un-American this all is.”
Charles hates to hear that. He would like to think he’s still just a soldier.
An American and Englishman and a Captain. He would still wear his dog tags if
he had them. He’s still proud of his service in the war. But war is messy and
unnecessary. The Great Patriarch has shown the world a better way. No more
mutants versus humans. No more Shaw. Skirmishes on borders and fighting civil
wars is a thing of the past. Charles knew the world could be better and with a
thought it was almost overnight.
Now, hearing the sounds of discontent from the other world leaders makes him
uneasy.
Heavy is the head and all that, he thinks.
“Invite the Captain to lunch this week. We will see to his concerns then.” He
says. “And announce that this was indeed the last Tribute. We are satisfied
with the diligence of all our brothers and sisters. The world is truly ready to
ascend to a new level.” He smiles and takes Tessa by the hand, “And I’m glad
you’re all here by our side.”
Tessa smiles before pulling away. He can see clearly that she is disturbed by
the force residing in him. The Great Patriarch fled Vincent’s body and took up
residence in a new, more worthy host. “I’d like to speak to Arlington about her
cousin before she leaves. I’m concerned about that report…” He looks to Darwin.
“You said the tribesmen were praying fervently to an earth goddess, and I know
of only one person who fits that description.” He smiles. “I want you and Alex
to collect N’Dare. She’s to be our guest for the anniversary dinner.”
Darwin’s perpetual frown seems to deepen. Charles has trouble breaking through
his mind, the man evolving to block Charles’s influence. He could do it, but it
would damage his friend. He will just have to trust that whatever doubts
Armando has about the Great Patriarch will ease with time.
Alex on the other hand is easy to read. Charles nudges away thoughts the
impatient man is clogging his mind with. He makes a list for Alex to sort
through. Check on the palace barracks. Check on the shelters. Watch Lucas. Then
he can have all the sex he wants with his husband. Charles smiles as Alex
visibly perks up. The younger man stands up, “Well, it’s been great. But I’ve
got work to do. Later, losers.”
Darwin gets up to follow him, “Charles,” he throws over his shoulder, “I’d
appreciate it if you’d stop doing that.”
Charles smiles innocently, “Your husband is scatterbrained but amazingly
focused when it comes to earning private time with you. I’d be proud, Darwin.”
Darwin smirks and rolls his eyes, “No comment. Later, losers.” He walks away,
taking his aura of disapproval with him.
Charles sits up, extending a hand for Vincent to join him and Tessa at the
table. The man does so reluctantly. His time as the host was unpleasant for
him. He wasn’t powerful enough to properly engage with a living God, but the
Great Patriarch forgives him for his shortcomings. He’s been a welcomed
addition to Charles new family.
They all close their eyes and join each other on the astral plane. There they
stand in the massive shadow of the ancient being. Charles looks up to the Great
Patriarch without really seeing his face. It’s more than the others perceive.
“We’ve received the last of the tributes. Shall we proceed?” He questions.
He feels approval from the mysterious, towering presence and passes the feeling
onto Tessa and Vincent. “Very, well,” he says. “I wish you could make it to the
party in person. If they could see…” he stops feeling a sudden cold chill.
Outside of the shadow, a wraith of ice lingers nearby. Tessa pulls Charles by
the hand. Vincent isn’t afraid, having never met Emma in person. But dealing
with her apparition here is unsettling for Tessa. She nearly met the same fate.
Charles squeezes the woman’s hand. He addresses the Shadow again, “Thank you
for your guidance. We will not let you down.” He looks at Emma one last time
before leading the others back to their corporal bodies.
Later in the day, Charles has already seen to most of his tasks. He thinks
having lunch with his son would be a welcome reward for the boy. They hardly
get to spend much time together.
He finds his son’s mind in the master suite, reading aloud on the Charles’s
bed. The nation has seen to making the Gray Palace a beautiful place. His
bedroom is a bit over the top. The dark wooden accents remind him of his
childhood, and the tall bookshelves comfort him. But they’ve given him a big
four poster bed with thick blue drapes. It was all probably by Angel’s design
but Sharon complains it’s not enough. She’s the mother of a living God now and
she’s still not satisfied with her station. It’s enough to make his head hurt,
but at least he has her nearby. Charles smiles, moving over to the bed and
pulling the curtain aside.
Lucas looks up with a pout, pointing a flashlight at his father. “I can’t read
with that light coming in!”
The curtain moves under Lucas’s power, falling shut and Charles lets out a
laugh. “There’s plenty of light in the room. Why don’t you come out of there?”
“No.” Says his son, petulantly. “I’m reading about King Tut and his war with
the mummies!”
Charles sighs, “That sounds like a comic book, not literature. Come out of
there, Lucas. It’s time for lunch.”
The boy peeks out of the curtain, “I’m not hungry. I want to be alone.”
“Then why are you in my room.”
“Because I don’t feel like reading under my bed. It’s the same as reading in
your bed, it’s so dark.”
A deep chuckle interrupts them from the doorway. Charles throws up his hands in
exasperation. “He won’t come out,” he says.
Logan stomps over, leaving a trail of dirt and god knows what else. He knocks
on the nightstand for effect, “Prince Lulu? You need to get out of there. And
eat with your dad. I’m commandeering the room.” He pulls out a meaty cigar and
lights it, puffing smoke at the curtain. “I need a bath and I plan on getting
naked all over this room. Especially the bed.”
Lucas rushes to climb out, “You are so disgusting Uncle Logan!” He reaches back
for his comic books. “I don’t know why Daddy lets you sleep in here.”
Logan shrugs and opens his mouth, probably to say something inappropriate.
Charles interrupts him, “I’m afraid Uncle Logan is like a wild animal. Or a pet
dog. He thinks he’s people, honey. He always wants to sleep in the bed…” He
awkwardly pushes his son out of the room. “Go see if Angel is ready and we’ll
take lunch with Raven and Tessa, okay? I’ll be right there.”
Lucas nods and hurries away. Charles looks back at Logan. The dirty man is
sitting on the bed, removing his boots and soiled socks. Making a mess of the
area as he does so. “Honestly, Logan. Can you not traumatize my son?”
“Me? You’re the one calling people animals. I told him before you had
nightmares, so I sleep in here to fight ‘em off. He seemed to like that idea.”
He smirks around his cigar, “Course, you could just be honest with the brat and
tell him the truth.”
Charles shakes his head. He walks over and sits on the larger man’s lap. He’s
still thankful for all the gifts he’s been given from the Great Patriarch. He
no longer feels any pain in his knee. But as Logan said, he does have
nightmares. Terrors that rise up from the Astral Plane, memories of the horrors
he’s experienced. Having Logan around helps.
He closes his eyes and lets the older man roughly undress him. His fine blue
suit is ripped in some places and he doubts anyone can save it. When he’s
completely naked, he gets up and poses on his hands and knees in the middle of
the bed. Logan slaps his ass with a rough hand, then stands up to get their oil
out of the nightstand. The brief time he’s away, Charles’s imagination changes
the setting. He’s not in the Gray Palace. He’s not in his room. He closes his
eyes and leans down, leaving his body more exposed. He breathes in and smells
the familiar scents of iron and clean musk. He covers his mouth as blunt
fingers gently work him open.
Charles reasons, he still isn’t attracted to men. Not at all. He prefers legs
and breasts and wet openings… he wishes he could still look a woman in the eye
and tell her she was beautiful and then take her apart slowly with his hands
and mouth… but he’s broken. He deserves to be broken, he thinks. He failed at
first. He didn’t save anyone. He merely coasted on the power of the Great
Patriarch and now he deserves this.
His mind floats away and he thinks of Moira. He thinks of laying on their couch
in Bastogne, years ago. Feeling content to have the woman he loves lay next to
him. Listening to her even breathing, kissing her on the forehead. Their old
record player skipping over their favorite tracks and the house dark and
comfortable. His last truly happy place, he thinks. He goes here often, but the
feeling is always disrupted. Sometimes, Sir Allister walks in the room and sits
under their dingy coffee table. Sometimes the gray woman putters in and tidies
up their clothes from the floor. Sometimes Raven walks around the room, naked
but for the blood staining her hands.
Charles whimpers and closes his eyes again. He opens them to the darkness of
his opulent bed. The smell of sex and earth lingering in the room. Logan’s
finished with him, leaving him dripping and sore on the bed. Charles curls up
into a ball. He grimaces, getting ready to lie to the man. Logan isn’t the type
to just take. He’d prefer his partners consenting and awake. Charles lies to
him, and sometimes thinks it’s not fair to do so. But it’s not like Logan is
hurt by Charles’s nightmares.
The burly man walks back over to the bed, clean and dry and naked. Completely
shameless, thinks Charles.
Charles sits up and smiles softly, “Did I pass out again?”
Logan shrugs, “Job well done, I guess.” He smiles satisfied with himself. “Come
on, let’s get you respectable again, your majesty.”
He leaves Charles to open the windows and gets dressed himself. Charles stays
on the bed. He lays back down and closes his eyes. There’s the brief feeling of
long fingers combing through his hair.
 
Hours later, Charles has an appointment to keep with Darwin. The man waits for
him the throne room. Charles has to brush aside an array of toy canons before
he sits down. Darwin walks forward, frowning at the formality of answering to
Charles this way. This is to be a formal audience with the Great Patriarch and
Charles would like it be recorded for the public. Cameras flash as the doors of
the Great Hall open and Darwin’s guest finally approaches.
N’Dare looks beautiful in a long white and blue dress. Her hair is up in
intricate braids, crowning her regal, lovely face. Charles feels a blush warm
his cheeks, remembering how he propositioned his friend before learning she was
about marry another. He smiles at her, hoping the old awkwardness is forgiven.
She doesn’t smile back, but stands there stern, her aura full of reproach.
Charles doesn’t understand, but doesn’t want to invade her mind. He believes
she above all others deserve better than his coercing her. So he asks, “What
have I done to make such a beautiful Goddess angry?” He smiles, “Our friendship
survived all of my missteps in the past. Drunken and otherwise. Tell me what
I’ve done now, and I promise to do all that’s in my power to make it right.” He
leans forward and waits for her answer.
She looks put upon by his words. “You do not fool me, En Sabah Nur. I know what
you are. I demand that you crawl out that boy’s head and go back to where you
came from. He is good and kind. You have no right taking him this way!”
Charles sits backs, his face falling. “I see. You have problem with the
Patriarch then. Would you like an audience with him directly?”
She frowns, “Charles? So you are there. You have to save yourself!”
Charles slams his fist down on the throne, “No more. Not until he hears you
personally.” He’s conscious of the fact that the cameras are still rolling, the
press in the hall are whispering, gossiping about this outburst. Charles will
put it to rest by summoning the Great Patriarch.
It’s a painful process, dragging another being from the Astral Plane and
letting it inhabit his body and mind. Charles is pushed off to the side. He
knows from past experience that his appearance is altered when the God resides
in him fully. He mouth is a dark slash, and the whites of his eyes turn red. He
projects himself just outside of his body and watches as the God speaks with
his physical mouth.
“Witch.” He says standing up. “N’Dare, Mother of Witches.” He smiles and
Charles is taken with the sight of his own mouth, now dark-lipped and full of
sharp teeth. “You challenge the peace of the world?”
N’Dare doesn’t fall back in fear. She steps up to the throne and stands in
front of the God. “I challenge you! I know what you really are, Apocalypse.
This false peace you’re forcing on the world through this captive child is
going to be your undoing. He’s stronger than you think, and I will do all
that’s my power to help free him from you!”
Charles is almost afraid for her. He believes the living God can see good in
people, but he’s not sure the being will allow this public show of defiance to
stand.
He’s surprised by the sound of his own voice, laughing as the God sits back
down. “I see you misunderstand my intentions, child. Because the birthing was
such a turbulent time for this world, I demanded Tribute. Now that’s it’s done,
I will help bring humanity to its zenith. Everlasting peace and prosperity for
the whole world. This Child,” he raises a hand gently covers Charles’s heart.
“Believes in me. As you all should. Do not the let the history of bigotry and
fear win now. I implore you.”  
Charles feels him disturbing her thoughts, influencing her next words.
N’Dare looks satisfied with his answer, “I will watch things carefully, then
Great Patriarch. But I care deeply for that man. You must promise me not to
harm him.”
Charles’s body stands and bows before the woman, “I would not harm my own self,
and this child and I are so connected, that he is I and I am him. Go back to
your people and tell them to be patient. Everything will soon right itself,
N’Dare. Have faith.”
She nods in agreement and the hall is full of applause. The press scrambles to
try and capture the living God on film but he waves them away. “That is all for
today. Our only concern was for our dear friend. You are all dismissed.” He
goes back to throne and sits, waiting for the hall to clear.
The Great Patriarch is considerate enough to make sure there’s no one filming
as Charles returns to his body.
He falls to floor, momentarily crushed by the other beings weight in his mind.
When he gets up he sees the toy cannons still in his throne before he laughs
and passes out.
When Charlescomes to, Logan is hovering over him. The other man has made him a
bath and left him soaking, washing his hair and frowning down at him. Charles
knows his appearance is unusual. Raven thinks it’s not fair for him to visibly
change so late in the game. She talks about it like he’s just reached puberty.
Charles closes his eyes while the larger man rinses his hair with a cup of
water.
His mind drifts off and he sees all the people he cares about. Raven is in
Italy, sneaking around the Vatican. Darwin and Alex are playing some sort of
game in only their underwear. Sharon is trying to seduce a handsome reporter.
Lucas is already asleep. Tessa is wrapping her head after a shower. Vincent is
practicing his old powers, making a maid fetch him more cheesecake from the
kitchens. Hank is under Cerebro, tinkering away. And Erik…
He frowns and opens his eyes to see Logan above him. The man hums a song with a
no name. It’s surprisingly lovely. He's good at calming Charles’s nerves.
Especially at times like these. When the old memories and disgust all get
intertwined. Tessa said the bond he still has with Erik is Freudian. Somehow,
Erik’s worked his way under his skin. And Charles, being the victim believes he
deserves it. She made a point in telling him once, “If it were anyone else you
wouldn’t blame them. But it was you, and now you can’t stop punishing
yourself.” He feels her voice echoing in his mind, the woman trying to soothe
him even now. She is one the few he can talk to about this.
But talking about it feels shameful.
He rather not go down that road tonight. Instead he gets out of the bathtub.
Logan trails behind him with a towel. Charles sees in the mirror that his eyes
are steadily getting better, his mouth has finally gone back to normal. He
scrubs a hand across his face and turns around in Logan’s arms. The larger man
knows better than to ask him if he’s alright, but he’s gentle and careful as he
handles Charles. “You ready for bed, Chuck?”
Charles nods. Ignoring thoughts of a faraway land and a man that’s hobbling
through trash looking for food.
 
***** Culling Vines *****
Chapter Notes
     New artwork from that talented Anon,
     Anon's_Charles,_the_Venerable_Host
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                        Gray_City,_Utopia_February_1967
 
The Palace Sentries are more ornamental than functional. The Great Patriarch
hardly needs protection, but the sight is awesome to their followers. Charles
appointed Lila as the head of the palace defenses. Angel is Lucas’s private
bodyguard. Several men and women of Lila’s old Hellfire Club security look
after Sharon. They prefer working at the behest of a drunken matriarch than
dealing with possible sex work under Shaw and Erik. Charles likes feeling safe,
but sometimes their presence is stifling. He gives all the guards on duty the
impression that no one is standing on wall on the west side of the palace.
Everything is fine, he presses, mind your own business.
Charles walks hoping to get some fresh air while looking out at the city. It’s
gone through so much change. Erik’s majestic towers were leveled, and people
are still clearing away the wreckage.
Darwin and Alex just reported on the local shelters. Krakow, the Gray City,
isn’t the only place that's been changed. After waking the Great Patriarch,
Charles had leveled whole cities around the world with Cerebro and Erik’s
stolen ability. He was so ashamed when the dust settled, that he locked that
power away. He rather not move things with his mind, not when the slightest
push can lead to so much devastation.
Sometimes he sympathizes with Erik. Knowing now that the man had this much
power locked in him, it’s no wonder he thought he was godlike from the
beginning. It’s no wonder Shaw was so easily able to manipulate him. Thinking
about Erik leads to thinking about where Erik is…
His range has grown so that he can scan for a single mind across a quarter of
the globe without aid from Cerebro. Erik is in Israel. He’s hiding among poor
human refugees, speaking softly, making himself small. It wouldn’t be proper
for the great Magneto to belittle his human kin while they feed and clothe him.
Erik often has to steal his own food or rummage in the trash but tonight
there’s a shelter open.
Erik accepts a bowl of soup from a small woman who painfully reminds them both
of Edie Lehnsherr. The woman smiles softly at Erik, unaware of his past. She
hands him a blanket and lets him move on to a flea-ridden bed for the night.
Erik’s wound never healed properly. He’s always hunched over and holding his
middle. Charles knows there’s a new scar indenting the man’s skinny body. Erik
sits in a corner. His meager meal is eaten quickly. The man then lights a
stolen cigarette. Charles is about to withdraw, knowing Erik will spend hours
in dark thinking about him, calling out to him. “Beloved,” he’ll say as he
relives the year of hell they shared. Trying to pinpoint the moment he was
betrayed. After everything he still thinks Charles harbors some kind of
affection for him.
Charles shakes his head.
He’s had a long day of event planning for the Anniversary. They’ve retained
some of the festive tactics engineered by Emma’s Mutant Week celebration. They
intend to have a global birthday party. Never mind the fact that Gods do not
have birthdays. It’s only a coincidence that Charles’s birthday is at the end
of the month and Angel suggested they run with that. To celebrate the end of
Tributes and the new peace finally cementing a new era, they’ve invited
everyone to the city-wide party. They will host dignitaries and common citizens
in the palace.
The first thing Charles did in the aftermath of the Wakening was allow humans
to return to the former Mutant States. The camps were leveled, and most of
Shaw’s regime was either killed or sentenced to imprisonment within Ironclad.
Charles went through peaceful negotiations with the heads of state of every
nation. They remain doubtful about his coercing them all… but to be fair
they’re right. Simply telling them he was host to a benevolent all-powerful
being wouldn’t work. He had to command them all to stop the fighting.
Charles counts this as a sin but a necessary one.
The world will be a much a better place now, he thinks.
He thinks of how much safer his family is now. Sharon went on a shopping spree
this morning with Lucas. It was broadcasted on the news and turned into good
PR. The little Prince and his Grand-ma-ma.   Only Sharon would kill anyone if
they called her that to her face. She even insists that Lucas call her Mrs.
Xavier. She had to insist the whole time that they used her own money not the
peoples, and that she was merely trying to stimulate economic growth in the
state. It worked and now the Press is calling her, the Great Benefactor.
Charles has asked Darwin to tone down the propaganda machine still working from
Shaw’s regime. The man merely shrugged and told him to make use of the working
parts.
The details of the party are unimportant, he thinks.   What’s important now is
the united front. They still have enemies in this world. Through Erik’s eyes
Charles learned there was cult out there, hiding amongst the most powerful
people in society which worships the Great Patriarch. They are his descendents
and they want his power back on their leash. Charles shared this revelation but
the shadow of the powerful being reassured him. Charles is the perfect host for
regrouping his powers. He is happy with Charles. They will do magnificent
things together.
Charles smiles as the wind changes and ruffles his hair. He’s been promised
more than glory. He’s already had his revenge. Well, mostly. Some have slipped
through the cracks. There’s Erik still out there, suffering as he should be.
But there’s also Stryker and the Allied Forces. He doesn’t want to cut down the
American and European military without provocation but waiting on President
Kennedy or Captain America will be a long a game. They’re both more than decent
men and will not engage him outright. Stryker is a bigot and braggart. He’s
been all over America media talking his head off. Charles would quietly put him
down but he’d be the main suspect if anything happened to the man.
Charles is tired. There’s so much left to do and though he’s still a young man,
he doubts he’ll live long enough to benefit from the new world. Not really. He
checks his watch and decides it time for bed. Looking out at the city one last
time, he turns around to go back inside.
He doesn’t make it three steps before he’s attacked.
A small woman dressed all in black, wearing a black hood and googles comes out
nowhere. She punches Charles in the head and knocks him over. She kicks and him
in side before he gets his bearings. Charles reaches out to freeze her, but
she’s immune to his influence. Her mind feels like running water and he can’t
grasp it.
She continues her assault, jumping in the air to kick him in the head. It
knocks him over and he lies on the ground winded. The woman brings up a leg,
heel pointed for his skull. Charles looks up to grin with a bloody mouth. It’s
not desirable but he uses the powers he locked away to grab all the metal on
her person. She floats up a safe distance and Charles takes his time standing.
He pulls apart a flag pole to secure her and pins his attacker to the ground.
Satisfied she’s been disarmed, he moves to take off her mask. It’s a
complicated plated thing, he has to unsnap it from the back first. He’s shocked
when he finally frees it.
“Aliya?”
The girl closes her eyes and bites down. He panics, knowing she’s just taken
cyanide. “No!” He could read her now, but her mind is quickly fading. He gets
one impression from her before she dies.
She is not alone.
Charles stands up and calls for help, but Lila is already running toward him.
“We saw you fighting from up there. How the hell did she get up here?”
Charles shrugs. Aliya had some telepathy. Nothing that could this. Or mask her
thoughts from him. He picks up the mask and hands it to Lila. “Make sure Hank
analyses this. Clean this up and try to get her revived.” He sighs and scrubs a
hand through his hair, “I’m going to bed.”
“Charles,” calls Lila, “You can’t just walk away. You were attacked, we have to
investigate this!”
He throws up his arms, “Then do your job! I’m going to bed. I’ve already taken
care of the assailant,” he points down at the young girl. “Now find the others
that helped her do this. Put an end to it.” He stomps off, “I should be able to
trust you with something!”
He stomps away tamping down his stolen ability as he goes.
He finds a quiet alcove and sits there with his head pressed against the
window.
“Mouse is that you?”
He shakes his head. But listens anyway.
“I thought I felt your shadow. Some nights I’m sure I’m just imagining things.
But it is you.”
Charles sobs against the glass. He pulls his legs up in the seat and let’s
himself cry. “It’s going to fall apart. I can tell.”
“Shhhh. I’m not well, Charles. But of course you know that. You saw to that.
You’re very loud, for being so far away. You are far away aren’t you?”
Charles nods his head. No one benefits from that so he answers, “I’m in Gray
City.” It’s so stupid he thinks. Everyone knows where he is. “I named it for
Mama, you know. I used to call her the gray woman. It’s a much better name than
Eriks.”
He feels Erik smiling miles away, “I never named it Eriks. They did. Out of
gratitude. Tell me, Charles. Are the free people not being grateful to their
new lord and savior? Are there traitors in your house?”
Charles sits up and sees his reflection in the glass. It looks like Erik is
standing behind him, but the other man can’t be there. He stares at the
projection wondering why he would do something like this to himself.
Tessa’s words ring out in his ears and closes his eyes. “I can’t talk to you. I
should have killed you, like all the others.”
“I saw Azazel’s body on the news. It wasn’t nice, Charles. Killing my friend
with one my own collars around his neck.”
Charles sniffles and glares back at the reflection. “He deserved it.”
“And poor Daniel. I’m sure he was surprised by the firing squad.”
“Hardly,” corrects Charles. “He requested it.”
Erik chuckles behind, “And Dukes? The others soldiers at Ironclad? There’s talk
among the common people, you know. They wonder what the mysterious tributes
were. They think you been eating baby hearts, Charles.”
Charles blanches, “No. Not baby hearts.”
Erik smiles at him but the vision breaks up. Charles can feel Tessa trying to
reach him so he goes to her room to assure her he’s alright.
Tessa greets him at the doorway and makes him sit on her bed. “That was hardly
healthy, Charles.”
Shame is already sitting in Charles gut, heavy and mulled with guilt. He feels
it flips over as she goes about getting ready for bed. “You saw,” he asks while
averting his eyes.
She goes to her mirror and carefully unwraps her head. Hank and Darwin did all
they could to help her after the Wakening. Hank built her a plastic skull, and
fitted it with skin grafted from her legs and arms. Darwin learned a great deal
about surgery and genetics while in service to Essex and Emma. He helped
fashion a nearly perfect match. But a deep ring of scar tissue still circles
her head and hair will never grow there. She only allows Charles to see her
like this.
Charles fidgets on the bed while she cleans makeup from her face at the vanity.
“Stop that, Charles.”
He stops, “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t look at him, “Why are you apologizing to me? It’s not me you
hurting. You need to talk about these feelings Charles before they overwhelm
you.”
Charles can feel the ghost of Moira speaking through her. It was Moira that
wanted them all to see a family counselor. Moira that kept a steady head,
outwardly for his sake. Even when she was wracked with terror and nightmares,
she held him up. Charles wipes his eyes, clearing away tears and memories.
“I’ll be fine, Tessa. I don’t mean to make you worried.”
“Charles,” she stops him. Standing up and crossing to him on the bed. “We’re
family now. We been more intimate,” she says sliding a hand through his hair,
“Than anything else I can remember. I want to help you. Don’t you want to help
yourself?”
Charles nods. Her hands are small and delicate, if a little calloused from
practicing on the gun range. One hand strays to his busted lip and wipes away a
little blood on his chin. Her fingers scratch at his scalp and smooth down his
wavy hair in comfortable pattern. Massaging his aching head. He’s learned to
live with the constant ache but nothing quite settles it. This helps, he
thinks. She means well. Being this close, he can smell the jasmine scented
perfume she wore to today. It mingles with antiseptic and latex from the labs.
He opens his eyes and looks up at her, “Thank you. I mean it, Tessa. I push
these things to the side and I… I don’t know what to do with them. Thank you so
much.” He leans over to hug her, resting his head on her chest. “Thank you for
caring about me.”
She keeps petting him and waits for him to calm down. When he does, he gets up
and gives her a tight hug before heading to bed.
He is annoyed to find a rack of clothes out in bedroom. There’s several coats
and suits laid out on his bed. There’s a note with Angel’s handwriting on a set
of ties. It reads, “You missed the fitting this afternoon. You sneak. Do it
yourself and deal with Ambrose. I’m too tired for this shit.”
Well, he thinks. At least she’s honest.
It’s part of the reason he’s kept her alive. She probably deserves death as
much as the others. Alex makes a point to avoid her, recalling the fact that
she once fought him. It had hurt to learn he’d been so close to rescue one
night years ago, only to have the tiny woman interfere.
She’s a dangerous person, but Charles is mostly sure of her loyalty. Mostly. He
can’t tell the future yet. There’s no telling what she’ll decide to do next. So
Charles picks through the clothes, lest today be the day she renews her loyalty
to Shaw.
He prefers wearing dark suits or light colored patterns. The selection on the
bed is very blue. Blue pinstripes, blue ties, blue slacks. He rolls his eyes,
about to put everything away when he sees a grey herringbone coat. Curious, he
picks it up and tries it on. It fits well, so Charles moves to his mirror to
size it up.
He studies his reflection and frowns. “Odd,” he says noticing a red speck on
the collar. He looks down and sees nothing, but it clearly there in the mirror.
He bends over to the mirror and tries wiping away the blood. Suddenly he feels
light-headed. All the air in his lungs rushes out and he’s left gasping and
wheezing on the floor.
He tries to call out for help telepathically. No one comes, and he can’t see
anything. He hears bells ringing in the distance.
Charles closes his eyes while lying on the floor, but wakes up in a seated in a
leather chair.
A young boy with a bruised neck is kneeling beside him, holding out a pair of
shoes. “Sir,” says the boy.
Charles gasps, afraid and confused. “What is going on? Who are you? Where the
hell am I?”
The boy looks up with big blue eyes. He’s soft face and curls remind Charles of
someone but he can’t place a name. Not while looking at the child. The boy
holds out the shoe again, “Please sir. We can’t make him angry. Now try this
on.” The boy boldly grabs his foot and tries to remove his shoe, but Charles
pulls away.
“I said who are you? I don’t understand… I was in my room. Getting ready to
rest for the night...”
The boy look snarls at him, reaching out to claw at his foot, “I’ll put you to
rest!”
Charles is shocked by the boy and jumps away from the chair. “Who are you?!”
The boy face contorts and decays. “I use to feel so much…”
Charles backs away. The boys sobs and comes at him again, “I use to feel
special. He made me feel so special!”
Charles shakes his head still not understanding. He bumps into a rack of coats
and turns around. The moment he falters the boy leaps up and knocks Charles
over on the floor. The boy’s face is all one bleeding gash now, his eyes
hollowed out and his mouth full of decaying teeth. Charles holds him back while
the boy tries to bite his face. “Who are you talking about?! Please!”
“That’s enough, sugar.”
Charles is left grabbling with thin air as the boy’s horrific visage dissipates
above him.
Emma takes up the seat he vacated. She’s only a vague impression of her former
self, but she is real. Charles realizes he’s in the Astral Plane, but he didn’t
bring himself here. “What in the bloody hell was that?”
Emma crosses her legs, “A wraith. A ghost of a fellow telepath. Well, sort of.
He wasn’t very strong. Or accurate. He was kind of a parasite, little Hugo.”
Charles coughs, sitting up on the floor. “Are there many? Ghosts and things
here? I never used to see them.”
She shrugs, “You hadn’t died yet. I didn’t see them before either, you know.
It’s something only a few of us get to see, or become. Evading death by taking
permanent residence here. Like your so-called God.” She scoffs. “Honestly,
Charles. I thought you knew better than that.”
“Emma please,” he stands up and walks over to her. “I’m terrified. I’ve never
been so scared in my whole life. Why was that thing after me?!”
Emma frowns, “I told you it was time to remember but you’ve been avoiding me.”
He stammers, “You… you frighten Tessa. She’s my responsibility now.”
Emma waves a hand at him, “Always trying to save everyone, Our Charles. I don’t
care about that. But you were supposed to remember. Enough to kill that
bastard! Enough to free yourself! But you haven’t. You’ve shut everything up in
that head of yours. All your sins and guilt and fears. I know, honey. We all
know. You’ve let something big drill a hole into your in head. And I’ve tried.
I’ve tried to really protect you Charles but the hole is getting too big. You
need fix this yourself, before you’re consumed.”
She disappears after her warning and Charles is left in his own familiar study.
He looks around for any sign of the demon boy before returning to his physical
body.
When Charles opens his eyes, he blinks away tears. He stands up and goes back
to the mirror. His reflection is normal. The coat is normal. But it’s left a
bad feeling with him. He takes it off and walks out to his balcony. He’s lucky
to see a gardener down below. “Hey! Grant!” He calls. The man looks up and
smiles at the Venerable Host.
“Sir! Do you need something?”
Charles throws down the coat. “Bury that. Somewhere I will never, ever find
it!” He doesn’t explain, but goes back in his room. He shutters the windows and
locks his balcony doors. He crawls up into his bed and draws the curtains. The
dark isn’t half as frightening as his own mind, he thinks. He rather stay
there. Alone.
Chapter End Notes
     In my head Tessa is totally Alicia Vikander, which lead to her
     getting her head cut up in the first place.
     Also Remember Hugo? He was an empath with a little telepathy and read
     Erik all wrong and paid for it with his life.
***** Landscaping *****
                        The_Hague,_Netherlands_May_1966
 
“There… Erik,” Charles projects, keeping his eyes closed even as the fingers in
mouth pump in and out in time with the man thrusting behind him. Charles keens
and whines as he pushes back against the madman. His eyes are closed and his
head is tipped back. Erik bites and claws at his skin and Charles lets the
feelings wash over his thoughts. He lets it erase all the fear and hate and
desperation he’s trying to hide. But it’s not enough. Charles sobs as the
fingers leave his mouth to pay attention his chest and nipples. He’s sensitive,
but it doesn’t feel good, being pinched so hard never does. Erik knows that…
Charles opens his eyes. He’s not actually upright in Erik’s lap.
He’s on all fours, his head tipped down and his ass up high. He looks through
his legs and sees the massive cock and hairy legs of the stranger behind him.
For a moment he forgets everything. About the where he is and who’s he with. He
cries out and tries to get away. The man behind him stops immediately, keeping
a firm grip on Charles’s hips while pulling out and backing away.
“Chuck?”
Charles’s turns in the man’s arms. “Logan. It’s you!”
The man frowns. For some reason there’s a cigar dangling from his lips, and
Charles is afraid he’s going to be burned any second now. He starts crying and
backing away while the man holds his hands up, “Whoa. Calm down. Did I hurt
you? Let me see…”
“No!”
“Alright,” says Logan. “Just. Calm down, Bub. I didn’t mean any harm. You got
real quiet there for second. I almost thought you were asleep. Really, I
would’ve left if it weren’t for the finger thing.” He waves his hands at
Charles and the younger man shakes his head.
“I don’t remember. I didn’t…” But he does remember. He led Logan back to his
room. They spoke about the upcoming elections. About the trial. How much Raven
has changed. Charles drank, drank some more, and flirted. He found himself in
the other man’s lap, then in the bed, then being fucked. That’s when it all
went hazy. Charles curls up in the bed, raising his knees and hiding his face.
“I’m sorry Logan. I forget things sometimes. Even while I’m doing them. I just…
go somewhere else. It’s not you. You didn’t hurt me, I swear.”
Logan nods but keeps away. “I get that. We all have our demons and such,” he
says awkwardly. He clears his throat and looks away, “I’ll just give you some
space for the night, okay? I’ll see ya in the morning, Chuck.”
The large, hairy man tries to leave but the thought being alone feels Charles
with dread. “No wait! Please. I just can’t finish tonight.” He looks up with
his eyes wide, the way Erik used to like. “But maybe later. We can try again in
the morning?”
Logan smirks and moves to lie down nearby, without touching Charles. “Okay,
Shorty. Whatever you want. I got all the time in the world. Just know… I’m not
asking you for anything, okay? This thing, whatever it is, doesn’t have to be
all grunts and sweating ya know. If you just want a friend. I mean. Shit.” He
turns away to re-light his cigar and lay back down. “I hate talking about this
stuff. But you do get me right? You’re supposed be a telepath. Can’t you just
look for yourself?”
Charles sits up to look the man in the eye. He sees why the alcohol and
loneliness led him to the other man tonight. Logan is big and gentle. Sweet in
his own hairy, clumsy way. Charles smiles, “I feel save with you, Logan. I
don’t have to look. I understand.”
Logan nods, “Good, ‘cause hell if I do.” He puts his cigar out on Charles’s
nightstand and leaves it there. “Sorry. I’ll ah… clean that up in the morning.”
He quirks a brow and holds his arms open.
Charles doesn’t hesitate to snuggle in the other man’s arms.
Their first time in bed is unfinished. But later Charles will let Logan move
his things to Charles’s room.
 
The next morning Raven comes to Charles’s hotel room. She doesn’t bother
knocking on the door, simply breaks in like a criminal too confident to be
caught. It serves her right, Charles thinks, that the first thing she sees is
her brother riding Logan on the bed.
“OH MY GOD!” She shouts. Charles can feel her shock and disgust. There’s shame
and fear mingled in with old memories, the terror of being trapped behind glass
while guns float around her head.
Before Charles’s old shame can send him into a panic, Logan speaks up. “In or
out, Blue. You’re letting all my stink out!”
She scoffs, definitely disgusted now. “You fucking animal!”
“No need for name calling.” He covers Charles up like a gentleman. “But if
you’re into the sibling thing, I might be into that.”
Charles can honestly say he’s never seen his sister turn purple before. But it
happens.
“You,” she starts pointing a finger at the man, “Are. So. Sickening!” She aims
her finger at Charles, “And you…” she starts only for Logan to interrupt again.
“Hey, is your girlfriend game? I might really be into that.” He leers and wags
his eyebrows and Raven cringes before beating a hasty retreat for the door.  
She slams it as she leaves.
Charles was not expecting to feel so light, but he does. Like a weight was just
lifted off his chest. He laughs, hard and genuine for the first time in over a
year. He rests his head on Logan’s shoulder while he guffaws and tries to catch
his breath. “I can’t believe you.” He manages. “Honestly, Logan. Have you no
shame, man?”
Logan pats him on the shoulder as he calms down. He chuckles lightly himself,
“Well she needs to knock or something. All that covert op shit I taught her,
and she still hasn’t learned how to enter a room.”
Charles smirks, “How else is she supposed to enter a room?”
Logan smiles broadly, pulling the sheet back enough to look at himself as he
re-enters Charles’s hole. Charles gets lost in the feeling, starting to slowly
rock back and forth. He almost forgot his question, but Logan answers while
getting a hand around Charles’s erection. “Armed with better insults.”
Charles giggles and let’s himself have this moment of levity. “You mean Raven?
Ah…” He gasps as the older man angles just right and Charles feels it down to
his toes. “Should… come up with something better than...” He not sure why he’s
trying to talk when the man is working his hips up and in, hands on Charles’s
hips and a smirk on his face.
Charles feels dizzy, he closes his eyes and grips Logan by the shoulders hard
enough to bruise. He moves up and down with shaking thighs. With his knee well
again, he doesn’t need help. Erik would have to wrap the younger man’s legs
around his waist to alleviate the old pain in his knee. Erik would mouth his
neck and chant his name. Erik would try his hardest to make Charles come first.
Erik use to watch his face and stare into his eyes. Learning the fastest ways
to get the younger man off before taking his own time, again and again.
Erik use to…
No he, thinks. This is not about the madman. This is about Charles. And how
Charles is lonely and tired. Thinking about Erik is not healthy, he knows.
There’s sharp ache in gut, and Charles recognizes the guilt he’s kept locked up
since he first compromised himself in a cell over two years ago. Erik lingers
in his mind now. Like a parasite the memory of the madman feeds away on
Charles’s arousal no matter how hard he tries to banish him.
Somehow after Hellfire fell, Charles felt Erik’s mind move far away, outside of
Europe. The man couldn’t have flown to Egypt so quickly. He could easily seek
out Erik with help from the Great Patriarch. But a voice in his head tells him
it’s not necessary, and he agrees. There is more important things to worry
about.
After they clean up, Charles and Logan leave the hotel and get into an armored
car. Raven is already ahead of them and awaiting orders.
They’re in the Netherlands now awaiting the verdicts from the International
Court of Justice today. Charles has been the focus of the global leaders since
the Wakening and he’s put it to them to charge him with genocide for all the
deaths.
In the last month, he’s been tasked to travel between the Security Council, the
Allied Forces Military Council, and the Court. Officially he’s an international
criminal. Unofficially, he’s King of the World, according to the media. While
in Cerebro that first night, everyone in the world learned his name. He
connected to every living mind on the planet and instantaneously killed Shaw
and many of his followers. Some people see him as a victim, but many others
think he’s a criminal. It’s just like when Eun died in South Korea, he thinks.
Whatever people think of him is always fanned by their own iniquities. If
they’re liars, then he must be a liar. If they’re deviants, then he must be a
deviant. And a liar and deviant that controls other minds is a terrible thing.
But it could be wonderful thing, he thinks. Charles means to settle the matter
publicly.
The Great Patriarch has altered minds across the continents and made sure
everyone is playing nice. A trial that should have taken years to arrange and
hear has only taken weeks. Charles made appearances on television and radio and
was allowed to defend himself in front of the Court. So far, the international
media has circulated photos of him from his time held as captive and compared
them to his life before. Sharon arranged an interview with the Times. The quote
on the cover says “I was afraid for my life and family.”   The article was
written by a human reporter who idolizes mutants but hated Shaw’s regime.
Charles had taken advantage of the young man’s memories of Slovenia. How he and
his human father were sent away while his mother was conscripted in the army.
She died years ago on campaign for Shaw. The boy wrote a sympathetic piece that
Utopia’s propaganda engine proudly circulates.
Charles is confident that he will be acquitted of the charges. So far the Great
Patriarch has helped him influence all the minds necessary to make this go
away, while still appearing genuine. When this is over, Charles and the people
working with him will be exonerated from any crimes. The Great Patriarch will
be recognized as the official the ruler of Utopia.
The front of the building is framed with reporters, and Charles has to let
Logan push them away. He could do it, of course. But they hardly need a
reminder about his powers.
Once inside, they find the courtroom where heads of state will finally declare
the verdict. But first, one more accomplice has to take the stand to defend the
Wakening.
Charles swallows as a bright light is tracked to his face. He takes a deep
breath to gather his nerves. Raven is high above, masquerading as a janitor.
She has a sniper rifle and can fire on almost anyone below. Darwin and Alex are
suited up as delegates from Utopia. Tessa sits with Vincent and Sharon among
the VIP. Charles has already spoken on behalf of himself. Today they are going
to hear from the Great Patriarch.
Charles lets himself float away, first projecting his mind over his body. He
sees through the eyes of Gus, the sympathetic Times reporter. The man and
everyone else watches in awe as the Great Patriarch makes his first public
appearance.
Charles is confident in his new patron. He flits away through the minds of
strangers traveling whole countries while his body speaks to the masses. He
gets across the Mediterranean and sees from the eyes of child a desert covered
in snow. The freak weather peaks his interest and he moves along, like a
tourist taking in the sight.
He didn’t expect to find the mind of Erik Lehnsherr, crawling through the snow.
Charles takes in the scene from a human nearby, hiding behind a trash can.
The man is cold, everyone is with the freak storm that has blanket much of
Israel in ten inches of snow. They’re just outside of a wrecked quarter of
Jerusalem, where poor survivors of the worst damage have made camp. Many are
the families that were ejected from Shawland. Some are displaced Palestinians
and Arabs from other regions. Charles seats himself in the man’s mind and
watches as Erik is surrounded by a gang of human men.
Erik is bloody and shirtless, shivering in the snow. One of the men lies dead
nearby, a bloody brick nearby in the snow. Charles reads the minds of the men.
He learns that Erik was caught stealing from their tents and now they’ve all
decided to deal justice on their own. The loss of their friend had angered them
enough, but one of the men recognizes Magneto and is hell-bent on humiliating
him before they kill him.
They rush Erik at one time and hold him down. One man ties his hands, and
another cuts him across the back, chest and arms. One man punches Erik in the
face and head. They beat him while he’s down in the snow.   “You pig, you
scum.” Says the man who knows Magneto. He goes to get the brick that killed his
friend. “You don’t deserve to die like a person. You should be slaughtered like
an animal!”
The other men cheer before freezing. They all stand stock still while Eriklooks
up in wonder. Charles projects to Erik, “So this is where you crawled to, Erik.
Edie always wanted to come here, but you never let her. It’s a shame.” Erik
tries to sit up but one of men kicks him back down. The man then stays still,
his foot in Erik’s back. Erik gets the point and stays down.
“Charles?!”
“You deserve this, Erik.  Everything happening to you now.  I know you see
that.  Now, beg me to make it stop.”
Erik smiles with all his teeth looking from man to man. “Where are you? How far
away are you?”
“Don’t,” Charles warns. “Don’t come looking for me Erik. I want you to see
something. I am host to an incredible power, and I can do anything I want.” He
gloats. “Anything. I don’t want these men to tear you apart. Do you know why?”
Erik’s eyes well up with tears. He’s thinking Charles has come to his senses.
“You wouldn’t let anything happen to me. You left me this,” he rolls over to
show his belly, a large purple and black blot indenting it. “I didn’t die. You
don’t want me to die. I love you too, Charles.” He smiles, rolling back over in
the snow. “I’ll come for you.”
Charles clamps down on the mind of one the assailants and stomps on Erik’s
head. “You are monster, Erik! I could never love you! I hate you!” He stomps
again. Then the man backs away. “But these are good men. They’ve never killed
anyone. There’s no blood on their hands. They have families to provide for and
you are a thief and a coward.”
He releases the men after instructing them to all go home. They gather the body
of their friend and leave Erik in the snow. Charles sits in Erik’s mind feeling
the cold from his perspective. His body is wracked with tremors and he tastes
blood and bile in his mouth. Charles suspects the bruising around his gut wound
has turned to sepsis. “Get to a doctor, Erik. You’ll die soon from that
infection. It’s good I think. You deserve a slow death this time around.”
He leaves flitting back to his body miles away.
The rush of prolonged projection leaves him hurting in the Astral Plane. He
stands under the shadow of the Great Patriarch awaiting the being to finish
with the Court.
It feels like hours have passed when he wakes up in his own body.
Logan and Raven are laying in his hotel bed, each on either side of him. He
looks at Logan, “Please tell me we didn’t do the sibling thing.”
Logan laughs and Raven punches his shoulder. “Asshole. I thought you weren’t
coming back for a minute there. You’ve been gone all night. The Great Daddy or
whatever you call him is seriously creepy. Wearing your skin like that and
leaving you like this.” She rubs a finger across his bottom lip, and Charles
nips her for it.
Logan brushes away hair on Charles’s forehead. “It looks fine. It’s already
fading away, like last time.”
Charles moves to rest his head on the larger man’s shoulder. “I must not be
very pretty right now.”
Raven kicks him, “I’d say it was an improvement, Mr. President.”
Charles smiles and bites his lip, suddenly very happy. “It worked. Of course it
worked. We’re not all in a cell. It actually worked.” He sits up and looks at
his sister. “We’re free of all of it now. We can do whatever we want. We can
build things, fix this world.”
Raven frowns, “Is that what the Tributes are for? Fixing this world.”
Charles frowns. “What?” He looks at Logan and the other man sits with deep line
etched between his brows. “Logan what is she talking about?”
Logan looks sternly at the woman, “I told you to save that shit for the
morning.”
Raven gets up out of the bed stomps away to the door, “He has to know what went
down, Wolverine. Letting that thing demand stuff from the world, and giving it
power like this.” She looks at Charles, “You weren’t even there for it, were
you?”
Charles lies back down. Suddenly the painful thrumming in his head has become
too much. He closes his eyes and goes to sleep without answering.
***** Party Favors *****
Chapter Notes
     Erik's POV
     (A rare Erik sighting. Stay back and do not feed him. Charles's
     orders.)
                        Tel_Aviv,_Israel_February_1967
It’s Charles’s birthday.
The whole world is looking at his beloved. And Charles glows under the
attention. Erik is huddled with a group of men around the shelter’s lone TV
set. Its only 12 inches of black and white, but Erik can imagine the color. He
watches the local news, as clips of the parades from Utopia air with the
anchor’s commentary.
“The Host of Utopia officially donated lumber and materials to rebuild
Jerusalem and other cities around the world. President Shazar was present this
morning as the festivities began.”
There’s a clip of the young man in line with other leaders, shaking Charles by
the hand. Behind him is the young Princess Anne. Charles is probably more
excited to meet the girl. Erik remembers how fond the America-Englishman is of
the monarchy. Shazar is left hanging as Charles chats with the young royal.
Erik stares at the TV until the news moves on. When it’s apparent Charles won’t
reappear, he heads back to his bed in the corner. The shelter can’t afford many
proper beds. He rather his mattress on the floor than one the rickety bunk
beds. Sleeping on his own in the corner is better than sleeping under a
flatulent stranger, he reasons. He barely manages to make it down to the hard
floor. As soon he does, he lays out flat and closes his eyes. He counts his
blessings, like Mama taught him. He’s warm, mostly. Well not his feet. His
shoes were stolen months ago and he hasn’t found another pair that fits. He’s
been fed today. The girl volunteering in the kitchen, Magda gave him a second
helping of her gloppy soup. It was filling and almost palatable. He saw
Charles. Not in person, but a living, animated Charles. That has made his day.
He feels under his ratty mattress for the magazine he stole a few weeks ago.
Charles has charmed the pants off the whole world, he thinks. He looks good on
the cover but his favorite_picture is opposite the article. A casual picture of
Charles from months ago. He looks young and innocent. Big eyes, and his red
mouth smiling softly. Erik licks his lips as he stares, blinking away the lust
is hard to do, but this is not a good place for an erection. He puts the
magazine away and stares up at the ceiling. He wonders what had Charles so
upset a few nights ago. He figures it was either handled or Charles is putting
up a front, lying to all those lovely people at his party. Erik smirks to
himself. Charles is a very good liar. All dewy eyed and earnest. He’d have made
a fine actor in another life.
Erik starts to doze off, thinking of better days. He does so often now. His
life is comprised of simple routines. Wake up, think about Charles. Find food.
Think about Charles. Go to sleep. Dream about Charles. He’s working his way to
the end of his to-do list when he feels a thump on his mattress. He looks down
and sees Magda at the foot of his bed, kicking to get his attention.
“You were miles away,” she smiles.
“If only,” he returns. He struggles to sit up. The muscles of his abdomen were
ravaged by infection. He barely makes it up to address the woman. “What do you
want, little Ladle?”
The woman laughs and covers his mouth with her hands. They’re small and ink
stained. Erik wonders what she’s been writing but he’s not interested enough to
care. The woman rolls her eyes, “Oh Max. I wish you would stop calling me that!
It’s ridiculous.” Her tan skin gets red at the cheeks. “I don’t volunteer here
to be insulted, you know.”
“Then you should give up cooking. Find something you’re good it.” He suggests.
The woman laughs again. She must think he’s joking. Erik has the sudden impulse
to break her skinny legs, but she’s fit and strong for human woman. She’d
probably break him first.
“Max,” she says wagging a finger. “You’re such a mean fellow! And here I am
trying to give you some work.” She smiles like she’s told him anything he
wanted to hear.
Erik sighs and reaches under the shoddy mattress again. He pulls out a lighter
and a bent cigarette and waits for her to explain herself or walk away.
Magda clears her throat, “I ah.” She pauses to fan the smoky air. “You can’t
really do that… oh never mind.” She steels herself to finally get the point.
“How would you like a job on the docks?” She grins broadly, fidgeting at the
foot of the bed.
Erik looks up at her with a blank expression. “Why would I want that?” He asks,
even though he would probably want that. He’s been marching toward Utopia since
he woke up in Annaud’s clutches in the middle of nowhere. Getting out of
Jerusalem was the hardest, he was recognized constantly before he let his beard
grow out.
Now in Tel Aviv he’s found himself in a rut. It’s hard to steal his food here.
The city wasn’t damaged like the others he’s been to. Immigrants and refugees
flock here. But a job near boats? Crossing the sea and going home is best thing
he’s heard all day. But he’s reluctant to tell the human woman that.
She frowns at him, “Max, please. I look at you and I see potential. I know that
all of the refugees have been through a lot, but in you I see… I don’t know.
Something more. Just consider it, will you? My cousin Benjamin works in a yard,
and he’s willing to hire some laborers from here. Pier 14, Worthington
Shipping. I gave him your name.” She smiles before walking away.
There’s a little skip to her step and Erik rolls his eyes. The girl, the human
woman is probably desperate for him to fuck her. The whore, he thinks. He gets
up and packs his things. Anger towards Magda, turns to rage. Rage for his
circumstances, rage for the shelter’s meager help, rage for the weak masses
that clamber in here for space. He rather sleep outside tonight. He knows a
place outside the city where the homeless and rabble congress in mostly illegal
manners. He’ll go there, and find a boy or a woman for the night. And in the
morning, he thinks, he’ll go to the damn docks and find out if it’s worth his
time.
He bundles his few belongings and rushes out of the shelter, ignoring Magda as
she calls after him.
Crossing the city by foot, barefoot and hobbled is no easy feat. He tries to
hitch a ride, and most people pass him by with their cars. One man slows down
to look him up and down before speeding off. Erik flips the man off as the
taillights fade away.
It gets darker, the road he’s on is busy with people rushing home from work.
It’s cool outside, unusually so, according to the news reports. Some scientist
say pollutants in the air is warming the whole planet up. Erik scoffs at the
idea. Then why, he thinks is the phenomena making snowstorms in Saudi Arabia?
He shakes his head, knowing if he were at home, backed with his own resources,
he would investigate this strangeness. He’s heard whispers from some of the
homeless. There’s a place in Africa with their own weather witch, a mutant that
can control storms. He’s more willing to believe that.
Erik shuffles along, the pain in his middle getting worst now that he’s up and
moving. He stops to rest, when the lights of a car surprises him from behind.
Erik has missed his ability with his whole heart since he realized it was gone.
Days like this he misses it even more. He stands up straighter, reaching in his
bag for his knife. He keeps his bundle in front of his middle, his hand wrapped
around his blade’s handle. The driver gets out of the car. Keeping his distance
for the moment. He’s an older man, pale with white hair and an expensive gray
suit. He leans against the car. “How old are you son?”
Erik frowns but doesn’t answer. He puts his right foot back, getting ready to
lash out if need be. Johns are not trustworthy people, especially the kind that
would show interest in an injured, homeless man. He tilts his head, “Does it
matter?”
The man laughs. “No. It doesn’t.” He walks around the car and opens the door.
“Get in, I want to take you somewhere. You willing to earn some cash?”
Erik shakes his head, “You sound American. I don’t trust Americans.” He says,
hoping the man will just fuck off and leave him alone.
The man goes back around to the driver’s side. “Get in and we’ll talk cash,
kid. You don’t have to trust me to get paid tonight. I’m not going to hurt you.
You look kind of dangerous, anyway.”
Erik starts over to the car but doesn’t get in. He stands outside the door and
looks inside the nice interior. It’s a new model BMW and he’s aches thinking
about his own collection in Berlin. “Can you drop me off at the docks?”
The man considers this. “After. First I need you to clean up. You don’t melt in
water do you?” He smiles with perfectly straight, teeth. Erik suspects that
they’re dentures. He keeps his hand on his bag. A horny, old man he can deal
with. Whitehall prepared him for this kind of unpleasantness years ago. He
sucks in a breath of smoggy air and gets in the passenger seat.
The ride is quiet, and Erik expects to head into the city. He expects they’ll
stop at a motel where the man can use him without being judged. But they head
into a residential area. A gated community, fenced in with guards and they
drive up to a large mansion. Erik tenses in his seat as he takes everything in.
He wonders if he can get away with murdering this man and robbing him. Maybe
taking his home and car. What are the chances he could get away with that?
The car stops in the large garage. There’s two other cars already there, both
under tarps and a motorcycle sits in a corner. Erik gets out of the car, still
wary of the man. Whatever he wants, Erik is willing to do… truthfully only a
handful of things to get some cash. Anything else and Erik is willing to
incapacitate this man and leave with his belongings. He has no plans in ink
yet, so he’ll just play along for now.
The man leads him into the house, through a hall, and into a large kitchen. He
pours a glass of milk and offers it to Erik. “You can shower in the guest
bathroom. I’ll give you an hour to get ready.”
Erik doesn’t touch the glass, knowing better from his own experience on the
other side. “A shower perhaps. Terms first. What is that you want exactly, Mr…”
he says fishing for a name. Perhaps blackmail is in his future.
The man takes the glass and downs it himself before answering with a smirk.
“Worthington. Warren Worthington Jr. We’ve met before, Mr. Lehnsherr.”
Erik swallows. “Have we?” The man knows who he is, but he can’t recall meeting
him before. “Would you say you were an old friend?”
Warren pours another glass of milk, “My son is at that party in Utopia. Your
papa’s old clubhouse is being trampled right now by humans and mutants, holding
hands and calling that boy of yours a god. Do you agree with this Erik?” He
smiles, “No of course you don’t. That kind of mingling goes right up your
spine, doesn’t it?”
Erik is now more curious about this man. Many of his supporters were killed by
Charles a year ago in one moment. He can think of only one sect that would
favor him returning to Utopia. “You’re with Akkaba.”
The man frowns, “What?”
Erik waves him off, “Never mind. Tell me what you want, then Warren.”
The man looks him up and down, “Take a shower, little Prince. Then we’ll talk
terms.”
Erik walks the house, finds what must be the guest bedroom. He quickly heads
for the bathroom and locks the door before stripping and getting into the
shower. The spray of warm water on his back is almost a foreign sensation. It’s
been so long, he thinks. He washes up, delighted to see grime swirl around the
drain before disappearing. When he exits, he considers himself in the mirror.
His torso is bruised looking, the scar from his wound is like a second navel
cutting into his gut. Higher up, the silvery scar tissue left from his heart
surgery looks… a million times better. Annaud could have done better, he
thinks. The man wanted him disfigured when he repaired the gunshot wound. Then
dumped him on top of Mount Sinai.
He looks at his face and decides to keep the beard. It masks his face. The
Media is used to seeing Magneto clean shaven or helmeted. There’s not many that
know he’s still alive at this point. He finds a set toiletries in the bathroom,
so he brushes his teeth and combs his hair. He almost looks good again.
He comes out of the bathroom, still holding onto his bundle of things. He walks
into the adjoining bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His knife is
tucked in at his waist. He checks the door and locks it before he looks around
the room. The old man has laid out some clothes on the guest bed. A pair of red
silk pajamas on the bed covered in deep red sheets. He laughs out loud at the
sight, thinking of Charles. He gets dressed and sits on the bed waiting for his
host to return for him.
There’s a knock on the door about ten minutes later. He gets up to let the man
in, knife tucked in his hand. He backs up to a wall as Warren enters with a
trolley and covered dish. “We’ll eat in here, if you’re interested Erik.” He
lifts the lid and reveals two plates of sliced pizza. One plain and cheesy and
one with different meats.
Erik raises a brow, “I hope that’s not bacon.” He says sitting down on the bed,
slipping the knife under the mattress when Warren looks away.
The man pours them both glasses of water. “You probably want to keep your
senses for this, Erik. You wouldn’t know… but I’ve admired you for years.”
He’s right, think Erik. He wouldn’t know that. His Father only ever threw women
at Erik. Some rich old pervert would never have been allowed near the Shaw’s
heir. Not like this. Erik smiles at the man, hoping he can pull off coy or
demure. “You were a state sponsor? A businessman or something… Worthington
industries right?” He guesses, remembering his appointment at the docks.
The man perks up, “Yes, exactly. Your father and I had an understanding. My
products shipped through you and Emma in the neutral zone and on occasion you
delivered trained laborers to some of my factories. It was a good
relationship.” He looks sprite for an old man, “And I would like to discuss…
perhaps entering into a new relationship.”
Erik wonders about this man real motives. “What’s your relationship to Utopia
now?”
The man sags, “It’s not very good, I’m afraid. My son is making a case for the
company, but I haven’t much hope of finding a bankable solution. This Xavier
brat…” he snarls, “Your former ‘Intended’. He just has no mind for business I’m
afraid. He would bankrupt my family if we moved back into your territories.
I’ve had a hard time recovering after the Incident a year ago. Several of my
plants and shipping yards were targeted in his attack. I lost a lot of good
overseers too. It’s hard to rebuild with his noose around our necks.”
Erik smiles, sipping his water. He has nothing to fear from this old, human
bastard. “How did you know I was here?” He asks curious about how the man
happened to be along the road. “What do you think I can do?”
Warren gets off the bed, takes a slice of pizza. “Someone ID’d you at the
shelter. I’ve been looking for you a long time, Erik. I think you can help
solve my problem with Charles Xavier. You’re still admired and respected by
your fellow mutants around the world. I’m sure you could win your way back to
the high seat in Utopia. They’re actually planning elections soon. You could
run for public office and take back your position.” He smiles, “Dethrone the
God.”
Erik takes a slice of the plain cheese pizza. Its light, but it’ll probably
wreak havoc on his stomach. He takes a bite anyway. “Um,” he moans. “I haven’t
had pizza in a long time.” The old man smiles at him looks a little like his
Father then. Erik wants spit the pizza out. “But I’m good at surviving. Without
help from creepy old men. I’m afraid my answer is no, Mr. Worthington.”
The old man laughs, “Please. Don’t act like you’re superior now. My reports say
you been left impotent by your little paramour. You jumped in my car thinking I
wanted to fuck you, didn’t you? You’re desperate. Desperate men don’t get pick
and choose, Erik. Finish your dinner and go to bed. In the morning, we’ll talk
business. I’m sure you’ll be more compliant then.”
He leaves the room and shuts the door.
Erik makes up his mind.  He’ll finish the food and get some rest in this
comfortable bed.  And in the morning, he’s going to deal with Mr. Worthington.
He cleans up when he’s done, tucks himself in the bed. Its soft, but he has
hard time relaxing. He tosses and turns for a long time before his mind drifts
to thoughts of Charles.
He remembers the contrast of the younger man’s freckled skin against his old
bed. The way a pink blush ran from the man chest, and neck and cheeks. He hums
at the memory of sight and taste and smell. Having Charles pliable and willing
or asleep and loose. He misses the younger man. Charles may never understand
how much Erik loved him. Or worst, he thinks. Charles understood perfectly and
still stomped on his heart. Killed his mother. Destroyed his world. Erik lays
flat on his back, rubbing a hand up and down his sore middle.
He thinks back to the other night. Charles was in distress. Casting a shadow on
Erik and looking for… comfort perhaps? He smirks at the thought. Maybe his
beloved is not all lost. Erik wants to believe he’ll find a way back to the
telepath’s side. On his own terms, without the meddling of some corporate
washout. He vaguely remember Emma dealing with the man for goods. He wanted
human slaves and his Father provided the labor. It had to be more cost
effective that paying regular salaries. Erik laughs to himself. He’s dealing
with modern day chattel owner.
“No, not here.”
Erik frowns. He sits up and looks across the room. A faded shadowy presence
eases through the door. He’s about to turn on the light and reach for his knife
when he recognizes the voice. It’s in his head not the room.
Charles plasters his see-through form against the door. He’s panting and
writhing like he’s physically there. Erik is almost afraid to interrupt the
tableau. Charles clothes seem to move on their own. His sharp tuxedo jacket
slides off his shoulders. His shirt is rucked up and slowly unbuttoned by
invisible hands. Charles remains pressed against the door, hands spread out
near his head. “No, please. We’ll get caught. He’ll smell you on me, damn it.”
Erik frowns getting up to walk to the apparition. He reaches out to the space
and touches the mirage, half expecting it to disappear.
Charles opens his eyes and looks straight at him. Erik feels like his heart is
stopping.
“Please, just wait. I want you. I do but you have to wait. We’ll get caught and
he’ll tear you apart. With claws!”
Erik pulls his hand away. He carefully lines his mouth with the illusion’s ear
and whispers, “Charles? Are you here? Can you see me?”
Charles moves his head just enough to look at Erik. He seems more solid now.
Erik can almost smell the sweat on young man’s skin. His hair is plastered to
his forehead. He pants and Erik feels his breath ghosting on his neck. It all
feels so real. Erik risks trying to touch.
Charles moans as his fingers skim along his neck. Charles is soft. Charles is
soft and real to Erik’s touch.
The younger man looks him in the eye as he speaks again. “You. Not again.” He
frowns, and Erik wraps his hands around the man’s neck, his thumb skimming the
red bottom lip. Charles gasps and closes his eyes, opens his mouth and Erik
lets his thumb slip just inside, feeling heat and slickness. He marvels at the
sensation, afraid it will go away at any moment.
Charles opens his eyes again, but this time he looks just over Erik’s shoulder.
“No, I wasn’t talking to you. It’s alright. I told you…” His eyes drift back to
Erik. “We can do this another time. I think I’m too drunk right now, anyway.”
The vision suddenly collapses and Erik is left against the door, staring at
nothing.
 
***** Regrets *****
Chapter Notes
     Note the warning at the end of the fic
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                     ** Gray_City,_Utopia_February_1967 **
It takes days for the city to clean up all the tinker paper. Days of picking up
trash and scrubbing up wasted drinks. Raven joked that Charles had just thrown
the biggest Oxford kegger in history. He should be proud, she said. “Multiple
countries all united, under one giant flagon of ale.”
He took little comfort in her joking. While meeting the politicians had been
daunting, he made it through with good reviews. Lucas had looked princely and
charmed the media with an imperious little wave. The Great Patriarch made a
brief appearance and rode a float in the main parade to the palace. Charles had
recovered in record time and that night.   He had danced with Princesses and
First Ladies. He watched his family mingle with people on the world stage and
felt good knowing they were all safe and happy.
Sharon had talked the ears off some of her old school friends, delighted she
could one up all of them now. Lucas had tired out early every night of the
celebration, claiming the crush of people was too noisy. Charles is beginning
to suspect his son may have telepathic powers as well.
On the last night of the celebration, socialites and royalty gathered to the
Great Hall while common people partied in the Palace courtyards and in the
streets.
Then there were the businessmen. All desperate and clinging for his attention.
He tried to be polite, but still foisted most of them onto poor Darwin. Logan
had made himself scarce for most of the revelry, siting his aversion to all the
‘happy’ in the air. Charles was left alone at one point and pounced on by a
most intriguing businessman.
Warren Worthington the third, had wings. Giant, glorious, beautiful wings. He
looked like something out of biblical scripture. Blue-eyed, blond-haired. He
was tall, well-built, and charming. He led Charles around the ballroom in a
waltz. Angel had flittered around at some point trying to get the man’s
attention but he only had eyes for Charles.
By midnight, Charles had let the man talk him into a private tour. They were
groping each other in a library when Charles felt the shock of another
presence. He closed his eyes to Warren and opened them to Erik. He felt Erik’s
hand on his skin. He thought he could hear the other man’s heart beating
erratically in his chest. He sucked a phantom thumb into his mouth and found
himself trembling with anticipation.
Warren noticed his fugue state and called him back to reality.
Charles had put off their tryst and gone to bed. When Logan reappeared the man
was silent and distant. His mind was protective and possessive, envious over
the aborted affair. Charles was too tired to reassure him nothing happened. He
went to bed, hungover and exhausted.
He and Logan put off talking about it the next morning. They’ve been avoiding
each other ever since.
This morning Charles is at the Cerebro tower. Charles personally hates the
design of it, thinking it would be better underground. It’s a wide tower with a
golf-ball like dome jutting out of one courtyards like an ugly dimpled phallus.
He’s having second thoughts about Hank’s new upgrades. His old school chum is a
zealot about science. Charles has seen Hank’s memories of working under the CIA
and being forced to help find a way to bring down Shaw. He kept his mutation a
secret for years, but it was eventually dug up. Hank was tormented and pushed
to an edge where he tried to develop a cure for himself. All he managed was
unlocking a physical mutation, even more pronounced than his large feet. Now
the young man takes a cure for the cure, suppressing his mutation while he
fixates over Charles’s powers.
Inside the dome, large tiles that magnify his powers are suspended from the
ceiling in an array. Wires and scaffolding is everywhere as the project evolves
everyday with Hank’s obsession.
“Okay I changed the helmet’s input lines, cleaned up some of the design. It
should be less bulky.” Hank smiles and tries to sit Charles in the chair. “Are
you sure you don’t want to shave your head? It would facilitate the…”
Charles cuts his friend off, “You’re not touching my hair, Hank. We’ve already
discussed this. I’m a public figure now. I get rave reviews over my hair, you
know.” It scrubs a hand through this thick hair for emphasis. “I have what the
ladies call a ‘glorious mane’ and intend to keep it that.” Honestly if he
thinks about all the shaving he was subjected to by Annaud and Whitehall, he
reasons he can’t help being protective of his hair. With Daniel dead, there’s
no one to help it rapidly regrow.
Hank laughs and punches Charles on the shoulder, “You vain bastard. Perhaps,
Logan just won’t let you cut it.” He tosses the joke without any malice but
Charles feels the need to defend himself.
“The Wolverine has no authority in regards to my hair, Hank. Piss off.”
He stands up to walk away but Hank rushes over to block him. “Wait! I’m sorry.
It was joke.” He looks at Charles with worry. “Is something wrong with you two?
You’ve both been kind of…” he waves his hand in an odd gesture, “Since the
ball. Angel said you were flirting with that other guy.” He looks skeptical, “I
told her that’s just how you talk to people. You’re not even interested in men.
You’re just unspeakably sexy.” He blushes. “That’s not how I meant to phrase
that. I mean you can’t help attracting people. Even when we were kids. But the
only person you’re interested in right now is Logan, right?”
Charles feels guilty over his actions from that night. Explaining his sexuality
to Hank is not on the table. “Logan and I are fine. And that’s that, Hank. Now
come on and fit me for the bloody helmet.” He goes back to the chair in the
center of the lab. “You are not shaving my head. I will consider getting a
trim. But that’s it.” He adds after sitting primly with his legs crossed, “I
have a photoshoot with Gentlemen’s Quarterly in a couple of days.”
Hank sighs and measures his head, “It’s called GQ now, Professor Pop.”
“Shut up, Hank.”
Charles is saved an hour later by Vincent. The man appears more gray and wild
eyed than usual. He rushes in and excitedly pulls Charles out of the chair,
“Look! Its back! It’s all coming back!”
Charles smiles, knowing the man’s has had problems recovering his abilities
since the Great Patriarch left him. Hank frowns at them both. He hates to have
his science interrupted. “Vince…” Charles nudges, “Why don’t you get us both
out of here.   We can go get some ice cream with Lucas.”He smiles as the other
man brightens up.
Vincent puts both hands to the side of his bald head, “Henry.” He says freezing
Hank in place. “You will stay here and alphabetize all of your… stuff. Then you
will ah…” He can’t think of another order so Charles helps him along.
“Make him polish all the tiles on ceiling.”
Vincent laughs, “POLISH ALL THE TILES!”
Hank kicks off his shoes, grabs a rag, and climbs up to the top of the dome.
Charles and Vincent laugh as they leave.
Charles tries to make time with Vincent. He considers the man his predecessor.
The Great Patriarch is still fond of the boy that housed him years ago. Having
a little fun at Hank’s expense is alright, he thinks. He’ll make it up to his
old friend later.
They meet up with Angel in one of the Palace courtyards. She’s playing tennis
with Lucas. She flies around, energetically batting at the ball. Lucas sits
crossed-legged on a stack of pillows on his side of the net. He’s drinking a
milkshake and moving his racket with is mind. Charles is so proud, his face
aches from smiling so hard. “Lulu!” He calls, knowing how the boy feels about
the nickname.
The boy glares at his father. “That’s not funny, Daddy!”
Charles laughs, “Come on and get something with me from the kitchen. I’ll like
one of those milkshakes.” He throws an arm around Vincent, “I’m sure Vincent
could convince someone you need another one too.”
Lucas grins as he jumps up and runs over, ending his match. Angel waves at them
as they leave, but stays behind. Charles pushes at her, “Can you check the
perimeter, again? Hank and I were looking over the Aliya’s mask this morning.
It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before. But it does block my powers. And the Great
Patriarch. Keep an eye out.”
She goes about her business, not making a scene that would worry Lucas or
Vincent.
Charles spends time with his son that afternoon. He’s been hyper-vigilant since
the attack. The staff is subtle, but there’s more guards posted. The media has
noticed the uptick in security around the Gray Palace but the official story is
it was for the visiting dignitaries. Charles is loath to admit there’s a force
out there that can out maneuver him. This on top of his issues with Logan is
making the dull pain in his head even worst. But for a few hours today, all he
had was Lucas. His son can be temperamental but the boy was happy to be the
center of attention.
Before dinner time they let Vincent escape and go up to Lucas’s bedroom. The
boy wants to show his father his new puppet theater playset and Charles wants
to make sure everything in the room is secure.
Charles sits at one of the windows to take in the show.
Lucas goes behind his little stage and narrates his moving dolls.
“Introducing the Great Yuriko! And Aunt Raven! I mean Mystique!”
Two girl puppets enter the stage and bow. There’s no strings in a Lucas Xavier
Production. Charles is absolutely delighted. One puppet is dressed like a
geisha with long nails and the other is a girl in a blue dress. “The Great
Yuriko will make Mystique disappear! But first, Mystique will change her
appearance!” Charles watches as Raven’s puppet changes. Lucas makes the dress
appear to dissolve into scales across the body of the puppet. Physically
transmuting to a naked blue model of Raven.
Charles applauds with enthusiasm. “Bravo, Lulu!”
The boy peaks out from behind his stage, “Daddy! Stop calling me that!” The
stage shakes with his anger before settling down. Charles nods and quiets
himself. He can’t help being excited over his son’s control. The boy is only
four, and already mastering his gift. Charles couldn’t push thoughts accurately
until he was twelve. He only wishes Moira could see their son. He knows his
wife would revel in this. He idly wonders if there’s time to grab a camera, but
he rather have this private show to himself. Later, he thinks he’ll show the
world how talented his son is.
The boy clears his throat and starts to continue, dramatically drumming as the
Yuriko puppet drags out a box.
“Now, to make her beloved disappear…”
“Beloved,” Charles hears the echo of Erik’s voice rang out in his head. His
body goes cold as mind is barraged with memories, visions of the past that have
no place here fill him with dread.
“One,” says Lucas as the blue doll enters the box.
“Two,” Says Erik. Charles sees the hands of Edie Lehnsherr, shaking as they
raise over her son’s head.
“Three!” says Lucas and the box falls apart, revealing an empty space. The
Raven doll has vanished from the stage.
Charles only half sees it. His heart is beating fast in his chest and falls
over on the floor.
“Daddy!”
The last thing he hears before passing out is the sound of his child crying.
Charles doesn’t know how long he’s been out. He comes to in his own bed with
the curtains drawn. There’s a heavy hand on the back of his head and thick
fingers comb through his hair. He doesn’t turn around to see Logan. The other
man smells like soap, the bed feels damp and naked, hairy legs press along
Charles’s lower body. He’s naked as well, he notes. Logan may have sat with him
in the bath again. The man seems to think it’s a cure-all for Charles.
Charles doesn’t turn around. “Is Lucas alright? Did I scare him?”
The larger man pulls him closer but doesn’t force him to turn around. “He’s
alright. He knows you blank out sometimes. I told him you’ll watch the play
again tomorrow. But ah… well he threw away that toy anyhow. He thinks it made
you sick.”
Charles wipes his eyes. “I ruined it. I ruin everything. I ruined something
good for my son. I ruin us… I ruin everything!” He babbles, and he knows he’s
babbling but Logan doesn’t stop him. The man sighs and pets him instead.
“Chuck,” he kisses Charles behind the ear. “It’s going to be okay. Raven and
Yuriko took him out the movies. He’s stuffing himself with popcorn and candy as
with speak. And well. You and me. We’re not… um.” He searches for a way to say
what he wants without being sappy, and Charles smiles thinking about how good
the man is. “We’re not exclusive. We never said anything. Hell, I jumped the
gun thinking it. We didn’t make any promises to pick out curtains or nothin’ so
I guess…”
Charles turns then to stop the man. He kisses Logan on the cheek, then the
mouth, then the nose. “You are too good for me, Logan. You’re a living angel,
you know that. I went snooping around someone else’s feathers because… honestly
I’m just not a good person anymore.” He forces a smile to his face, “I’m sorry
I hurt you, James.”
The man’s face crumples, “Don’t call me that, Chuck.” He knocks his head
against Charles and tugs on the younger man’s hair. “Or I’ll starting calling
you Princess Chuchu.”
Charles barks out a laugh, “Alright. I’ll leaves it alone, Logan. But
understand. I don’t understand myself sometimes. It’s not you, really. Believe
me when I say you are wonderful. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.” He
kisses Logan on the lips. “And thank you. For being so good to me and my family
for so long.” He kisses him again, “I mean it. Thank you.”
The older man would vehemently deny the tears in his eyes, so Charles wipes
them away before they can offend.
Charles smiles softly and lets his hands roam the larger man’s body. Logan is
broad and hairy and Charles puts it out of his mind how different this feels
from a woman. From Erik. He skims his hands across the man’s arms and chest
before reaching up to hold his head still for another kiss.
He thinks he’ll apologize for his unfaithfulness with his whole body tonight.
One of the main delights in having Logan for a partner is the man doesn’t mind
letting Charles mount him and Charles isn’t shouldering the violence and anger
that made switching with Erik an impossibility. He lets his hands glide down to
squeeze Logan’s muscular thighs, then around to paw at his ass. He smirks as he
pulls away, “Tell me my itinerary is clear for the morning.”
Logan throws a leg over the younger mans’ and grins, “I’m throwing that fucking
datebook out the window.”
They’re caught laughing and groping each other as the door slams open.
Charles sits up quickly and covers himself. Logan rolls his eyes. “For fuck’s
sake!” The man draws back the curtain to shout, “I’m trying to get laid here!”
Angel stands in the doorway, a bloody hand covering her chest. “We have to get
you out here. There’s an attack on the Pal—“
She falls over and Charles and Logan rush to get out of bed. Charles kneels
over her, naked and panicking. “Angel!” The girl doesn’t respond. She lays face
down on the floor, one of her wings torn from her back. She’s quickly bleeding
out on the floor.
Logan runs outside the room, “Medic! Angel’s down! Where the fuck is everyone!”
Charles watches as the light fades from the girl’s eyes. He closes her eyelids
and gets up quickly to put on a robe. He goes to Logan’s side, “I had to touch
her to see anything. I just saw her last memories. The wall is being attacked.
Lila’s guards are all centered on one powerful group of mutants but someone was
trying to get up to my rooms. They shot Angel down after she fired on them.”
Logan doesn’t bother getting dressed, he runs off to the wall to join the
fight.
Charles tries to evaluate everything. The silence in the palace is eerie.
“Hank,” he projects. “What’s going on? Darwin? Anyone?”
He finds his range is limited and that is baffling. Hank comes running up the
hall as a blur of blue fur and muscle. “Charles, you’re okay!”
Charles looks at his friend. “I was with Logan.” He motions to his room,
“Angel’s dead. What the hell is going on?”
Hank pulls him out of the room and leads him away. They’re headed for the
shelter below the palace. “I don’t know, Charles. I tried projecting to you
earlier. Can’t you see anything?”
Charles shakes his head, “No. It’s like something is dampening the whole
palace.”
“Shit,” says Hank. He stops. “We need to go back up to Cerebro. Whoever’s
attacking us is using it to block you!”
Charles doesn’t ask how Hank knows, he feels guilt radiating from the other
man. He and Hank will have to have long discussion when this is over. They hear
gunshots on the way to the tower. A couple of guards run with them to the
tower. Charles takes a gun from one of them. Hank roars before leaping forward
into the fray.
Charles and the guards exchange fire with whoever’s inside Cerebro. Hank evades
all the bullets, manages to climb up the tower. He punches a hole in the top of
the dome and climbs inside. Charles tells the guards to lay cover fire and
distract the assailants. It works, and whoever is inside never see Hank as he
crashes down in the lab.
Hank comes out of the tower with three men, two on his shoulders and dragging
one by the hair. He dumps them on the grass outside the tower and runs back
inside. Charles and the guards follow him up to Cerebro. There, Hank is running
around madly adjusting his equipment. He shuts everything down and suddenly the
world is a great deal more noisy to Charles.
Voices from all over the Gray Palace rang out in panic. Darwin and Alex are
arresting men and women at the front gates. Camera crews have arrived. Soldiers
are crowding in to back up Lila. Lila has been injured. Sharon is sleeping
through all of this. The city is clamoring for news about the attacks. Several
areas around the city have been hit as well. Charles seeks out Raven and
Yuriko.
“Charles!”
Raven’s thoughts reek of despair and desperation. Charles frowns, falling to
his knees with her pain in his head. “Raven? Are you alright?”
Raven falls over on the ground, and he sees through her eyes. She’s clutching a
bloody yellow sweater. Yuriko is lashing out at group of men inside the
theater.   They’re all dressed like Aliya was nights ago. Charles concentrates
on using magnetism. He remembers how Gunther Bain died, and applies that lesson
on Yuriko’s attackers. The men fall to the floor and Yuriko rushes back over to
Raven.
His sister pulls the sweater up her face, rocking back and forth on the floor.
She looks down for a moment. And Charles sees Lucas on the ground. His son
stares up with unseeing eyes, a gash of red across his neck.
 
The people will later call the earthquake that shook apart Gray City, the
Mourning.
 
%MCEPASTEBIN%
Chapter End Notes
     The chapter has death of a child, and may be triggery
     Its not described in detail, but its there.
***** Stages *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                      ** Gray_City,_Utopia_April_1967 **
 
“Bravo! Bravo! Encore!”
Charles stands up and whistles loudly from his box seat. The giant theater is
packed tonight. Beside him Moira claps and mimics him, whistling and whooping.
“Encore!”   She shouts, before grinning from ear to ear. She stops only to pull
Charles close and kiss him on the neck. “That was wonderful! I’m so proud!”
Charles hugs her close as the patrons in the theater keep up the racket, trying
to lure the artist back out.
Charles looks down at the other couple in their box. “Wasn’t it fantastic?”
Brian nods his head while fiddling with a film camera, “Encore!” He shouts
standing up as well. “I missed the last part with this darn fangled thing!”
Charles laughs at his father and pulls him close as well. “That’s alright, Dad.
We can always record it later.”
Edie laughs from beside Brian, “You men and these technologies.   You miss the
whole world passing you by trying to film it. Just look up, Brian. Enjoy life
as it happens.”
Moira nods, “I know what you mean, Mama. The Professor here would rather waste
an entire day trying to use a new Kodak than actually play in a park.” She
pinches Charles on the arm. He remembers the day he set up a tripod and tried
his utmost to get the perfect picture of Lucas and Raven playing in the grass.
It didn’t work out.
Charles smiles at his family, happy to share this day with all of them. The
audience riles up even more as the curtains draw back. The artist walks out
onto the stage. He bows in their direction and blows a kiss to his mother and
father. “Thank you everyone!” His life-sized puppets walk out to the stage.
They bow and catch bouquets before joining their creator.   Lucas smiles as he
waves up at his father. “Daddy look! Isn’t this funny!”
Charles laughs along, caught up in the merriment. Two of the puppets look like
the German Mad Hatter and Little Mouse. They start fighting on the stage while
the Raven Doll tries to break them up. Charles is wiping tears of joy from his
eyes as the theater gets darker. He thinks for a moment that Lucas is going to
put on another show. He sits back down and looks to Moira. She’s not in her
seat, she’s just disappeared. He turns to his father and Edie and finds them
gone as well. The curtain to their box is pulled back and lets in a cold draft.
“Dad?” He asks, thinking his family stepped out without his noticing.
“Hardly, sugar.” Emma enters wearing an ornate crystal gown. She sits in
Brian’s chair holding a pair of opera glasses. “I think you know the truth of
this little dream, Charles.”
Charles sits back and stares out at the rest of the theater. The patrons have
vanished and the stage is empty. He sobs, “Why can’t you leave me be, Emma. Why
do you keep barging in where you are not wanted?!”
The woman holds out the little glasses, “Because you have to see Charles.
You’ve been down here with the dead for a long time. Things are getting out of
hand. I told you that hole in your head was getting bigger.” She waves at the
empty seats and he sees shadows moving amongst the aisles. “What do you think
is keeping you company while you let that parasite ride your body?”
Charles shakes his head, feeling pain erupt at his temples. He covers his ears
and sinks back into his seat. “Go away, Emma. Leave me in peace. Please!” He
shuts his eyes. The sound outside his hands is muffled but he can still hear
Emma clearly.
She sighs, “If you won’t listen to me, then at least listen to your friends.
Let them pull you out of this before you can’t go back, Charles.”
He opens his eyes to see Angel standing in the box. She’s dressed like a fairy,
he thinks. Wearing a light pink shift dress, her wings flitter and sparkle.
“Sir. I’m so sorry for everything I did. I mean that.”
Charles waves a hand at her, “You apologized more than once and I believed you
before, Angel. Go away.”
She moves closer to him, and he sees her eyes are gray and bloody. “Charles,
please!” She shouts drawing his full attention. “I’m scared, alright! This
isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I should be with my family!” She cries and
lashes out at Charles, pushing him into the seat. “Wake up and let me go!”
She pushes him again, and the chair falls over. He tumbles on the floor
confused. When he gets up, he’s standing in the shadow of the Great Patriarch.
Tessa and Vincent hold hands beneath the towering being. Charles watches as
Tessa shouts up at their savior. He can’t hear her words but Vincent cowers
beside her.
Tessa notices Charles and cries out to him, but he can barely hear. He steps
slowly towards them but feels the weight of the Great Patriarch’s attention. He
looks up and tries to make out his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run so
far away.” He feels warmth on the back of his neck, imagines the first of their
kind is trying to reassure him with an embrace. He smiles at that and
continues. “Thank you for watching after my friends. I’m ready to go home now.”
Charles closes his eyes to blinding light.
He wakes up in the darkness of his own bed. His body feels sore, but he gets up
anyway. He’s wearing a thin pair of pajama bottoms. He gets up and heads for
the bathroom, intent on taking a shower. He sees his reflection in the mirror,
expecting the usual markings of the Great Patriarch.
He finds instead, his own face, cleanly shaven. Long hair brushing his
shoulders. He looks older he thinks, and he presses up against the mirror,
inspecting his face. “How long was I asleep?”
“Long enough to miss the funeral.”
Hank stands in the doorway. He’s wearing rubber gloves and holding a syringe.
“Are you all there, Charles?”
Charles nods and the man sighs before capping the needle and putting it away.
Charles swallows. His throat feels tight and hoarse, “How long… what happened?”
Hank comes inside to start the tub, “You shook up downtown. Then went
catatonic. Afterwards we learned from Raven that… She said they were…” he stops
and starts, sobbing. “She said they were about to get some more candy when they
were attacked. She was holding Lucas by the hand, but told him to hide while
she and Yuriko fought the men off. They were surrounded and she lost sight of
Lucas for a second. That’s when… it happened. She tried to contact you, but it
was too late.” Hank’s mind is full of guilt, “It’s all my fault this happened.”
Charles slips out of the pants. He’s trying to absorb everything slowly. He’s
sure if he reached out with his powers now he’d kill everyone in the palace.
Possibly the city, if he exerted himself with all the rage and sorrow that’s
turning in him now. So does the right thing, he thinks. He gets into the tub
and leans back, letting his mind acclimate to the facts. His son is dead. His
family is down by yet another member and even with the power of a living god,
he couldn’t do a damn thing to protect them. He concentrates on the sound of
the water filling the tub until Hank stops it.
The younger man looks more worried as Charles stays calm. “Charles are you
there?”
He nods his head, his eyes close, “Who else died that day. What did the Great
Patriarch do?”
“Angel, a few of Lila’s guards. Some soldiers from the army. Police officers.
The people in the buildings that fell.” He turns away and sobs, “And the Great
Patriarch punished me for causing you so much heartache.” He cries, “But I
deserved it. I know that now. He tore down Cerebro and called for an assembly
with the world powers. He told them he didn’t need machines to find the ones
responsible. He had Lucas preserved in the Great Hall. I’ve never seen anything
like it, the technology he’s using. He told us that you would return when you
were better. I had almost stopped believing him.”
Charles takes it all in. “And why are you in my room, now with that needle? I
don’t like needles, Hank.”
The younger man stands up, “It was to sedate you. He leaves sometimes but you
don’t come back. Not really. You were wild and so upset. If he weren’t
possessing you we had to keep you under. Just a little.” He hangs his head,
“I’m so sorry, Charles.”
Charles sighs. “My head feels like it’s about to explode, Henry. It may be best
if you weren’t here for that.”
Hank nods and starts to walk away.
“Where’s Logan,” he calls out before the man leaves.
Hank shrugs, “He took off after the funeral. He doesn’t really like the new
council members.”
Charles sits up, “What new Council members.”
Hank shrugs again looking confused. Charles risks looking at his mind. He sees
the man’s thoughts about the new Council members has been altered. He sees the
reality of it in a fog. “Darwin and Alex left so he had to replace them. Warren
Worthington the Third moved here, and denounced his father’s company. The Great
Patriarch was moved by his entreaty and gave him a new position.” He says by
rote, “And N’Dare is worthy, insightful, and a powerful influence.”
Charles sees what really happened. The Great Patriarch sent Darwin and Alex
away in a rage. They replaced to save face in front of the cameras.
Charles wipes Hank’s mind of the last several minutes, smiling tightly as he
dismisses his friend. “Leave me alone Hank. We’ll talk later.”
Charles stays in the tub. He has to work to do, he thinks. If he works, he
can’t stop long enough to think about Lucas. He can’t think about the last
thing Moira gave him in this world. About his son’s blossoming personality.
About the boy’s talent and curiosity. He can’t think about seeing his own eyes
look dead and cloudy, framed in a small face splashed in blood.
He cries out, and tries to focus. A part of him knows he’s undone much of his
work falling apart and taking his grief out on the city. The Great Patriarch
was only looking after things, he reasons. He had to clean up the whole mess
while Charles physically and mentally checked out. Placing N’Dare on the
council is a good thing, but he can’t imagine why the Great Patriarch would
hide this from him. Or why he gave Warren any position at all. He’s afraid to
go back to the Astral Plane now. Not with ghosts like Emma waiting to lay into
his mind. Instead he tries to focus on reconnaissance. He gets out of the tub
and wraps up in a towel before going back to the bed. He lays down and lets his
mind passively scan the others in the palace.
Sharon is dry. She hasn’t touched a bottle since before the funeral. The day
her grandchild died she was hungover and sleeping deeply in her room. She sits
now dressed in a plain black dress, handwriting checks to various shelters in
the city. Writing letters of apology to people who lost loved ones that day.
Raven and Yuriko are fighting in her room. Yuriko claws at Raven, but the blue
woman evades her, taking down her lover with a sweep of her legs. They wrestle
on the floor before Raven pins her. She sobs, and rests her head on the other
woman’s shoulder. Yuriko cries as well, withdrawing her claws and petting Raven
on the head.
Further out at the walls, Charles sees Lila and Vincent fielding questions from
a reporter. The reporter has a mind to tell the world that the Gray Palace is
falling apart. Vincent uses his influence to make the woman change her story.
She’ll go back to her newspaper and write about how strong the Great Patriarch
is in the face of tragedy.
Tessa is in the Great hall, standing over a glass casket. She feels Charles and
turns away, “You’re awake. But this isn’t how you need see him, Charles. I’ll
wait in here until you’re ready to come down in person.”
He flees her mind and looks for Logan but the man must be outside his range.
He listens to the noise of the people. The general public is split with so many
opinions. Some people are sadden to see the son of the Host lost in such a
violent manner. Some believe another world power is responsible for trying to
assassinate the Living God and want Utopia to declare war. Some believe the
Great Patriarch is a false prophet, lying to amass power in the first place.
They think it’s a good thing the Gray Palace is falling apart and hope the city
falls with him.
Charles is worried with this sect of his society. He follows the threads of
thoughts until he finds the root. There’s a group of homeless men and women in
one the shelters at the edge of town. They’re passing out flyers that tell
people to renounce the false god. There’s an invitation to hear the ‘Truth’
from a man called Max Xorn. ‘Go to the Morlocks’ it says.
Charles follows the thoughts of these people. He knows from Darwin’s patrols
that the Morlocks are mutants with visible mutations that live underground
outside of Utopia. They’ve branched out in various countries, often living in
abandoned metro tunnels. He follows the thoughts of the network. A messenger
leads him to a flunky, which leads him to the leader of the Morlocks. A woman
with one eye and plenty of battle scars is knocking on a shoddy wood door.
“Max!” She calls out. “Finish up with your whore and get going! You’ll miss
evening prayer again!”
Inside the room is two familiar minds. He takes over the easy one, an
impressionable young girl from Israel.
He opens her eyes to see Erik beneath him. The man’s eyes are shut tight. He
mechanically pistons his hips, thrusting inside the young woman riding him.
Charles is overwhelmed with being back with Erik. It not real, he reminds
himself. He’s not here at all. This is Magda’s body, the woman consents to
this. She’s almost twenty-one years old and is of sound mind. Mostly, he
thinks, she is just blinded by adoration for her ‘Max’. Charles tries not focus
on the strangeness of being in a body that welcomes the stretch of Erik’s cock.
A body that’s wet and writhing. The girl’s arms are thrown around Erik’s neck.
But it feels different… he gasps and the body he possesses lets out moan. It’s
not his voice, and Erik doesn’t seem to like hearing it. He reaches up to cover
the girl’s mouth. His other hand holds onto the girl hips. His eyes stay closed
and he frowns as chases his own orgasm.
Charles is barely aware of what he’s doing before it’s already done. He’s
pushed the girl’s mind down into a sleeping state and fully inhabits her body.
It’s a million times more sensitive to being full and stretched with Erik’s
cock. The man even idly reaches down to rub her clitoris, like the charming
lover he is. Charles falls over with the feeling, “Erik.” He doesn’t mean to
say anything, he thinks. But the man finally opens his eyes. He stares up with
a frown and looks hard into the girl’s eyes. He touches her again and Charles
clutches his neck.
Erik visibly brightens. He smiles at the girl, “Say it again.”
Charles tries not say anything but Erik flips them over. He squeezes the girl’s
neck and fucks into her body harder while looking into her eyes. Charles lets
the girl’s legs fall open wider, raises her legs up to urge Erik with the heels
of little feet.
Erik grins down at them, “Say it again. Say my name. I want to hear it.”
Charles stares up through his stolen eyes, mouth falling open and panting for
air. “Erik.” He whispers in voice. “Erik, please.”
Erik squeezes the girl’s neck once before pulling her closer, kissing her hard
on the mouth. He pulls away to thrust with more urgency. “Say it again. Say it
again,” he grips her by thighs holding her open as he stares down at her.
Charles leans up to lick his way into Erik’s mouth, he lets out another moan as
he’s washed over the foreign sensations of woman’s body. Erik kisses him back
before pinning him down and holding the girl’s neck. He asks again for the girl
to say his name, and Charles does so. “Yes, Erik.”
Erik comes with that, speeding up his thrusts before seizing up. He’s slow to
pull out. He moves up the girl’s body to hold her head still while he kisses
her.
Charles feels terrible for taking this moment from the young woman. For all he
knows, she could have changed her mind. This could be something she didn’t want
after all. He’s as bad as Erik he thinks. Raping this girl’s mind is worse than
anything Erik could do to her. Tears well up in the girl’s eyes and Erik wipes
them away.
He smiles down again, “It’s you. Say it’s you, little Mouse. Say it.”
Charles frowns. Wondering how the man can tell. Was the sex that different, he
wonders? He doesn’t want give up any ground to the man, but he projects his own
body over the girls, and looks up at Erik with an illusion of his own eyes.
Erik laughs, his body shaking as he traces the shape of Charles’s face.
“Charles.”
Charles can feel the body he inhabits straining with tension. The girl didn’t
come yet. He wiggles in Erik’s grasp and the man takes the hint, moving down to
rub her body without looking. He stays focused on the illusion of Charles.
Charles gasps, “I didn’t mean to continue.”
“Yes you did,” he bites at Charles’s neck. He rubs harder and Charles feels an
orgasm from the girl’s body. He lets his head fall to the mattress. Erik moves
to hover over him still grinning like he won something. Or got away with
murder. Charles is disgusted with the man. He’s disgusted with himself but
can’t seem to leave yet. He stays there, pretending essentially to be in Erik’s
arms.
Another knock on the door disrupts them and Erik shouts at the woman called
Callisto. He tells her to make his excuses, he’ll be around later. That spurs
Charles’s back to his question. “How did you know it was me?”
Erik smirks, “Magda only knows me as Max. She would never call me Erik, my
little Mouse. Not like that.” He licks at Charles’s mouth but the younger man
pushes him away to sit up.
“You are Max Xorn? The preacher of the Morlocks? What the hell are you doing?”
Erik and his infuriating smile is starting to get on Charles’s nerve. He slowly
answers with his own question. “What are you doing?” He leans over to kiss
Charles again, but Charles runs away. Like a coward, he jumps out of the girl’s
body, and treks back to his body in Utopia.
Charles lies in his own bed looking up at the canopy. He wipes tears from his
eyes. He’s weak, he thinks. He should have died before all of this started.
Then maybe his son would still be alive. And Erik would not have the
satisfaction of knowing Charles felt anything for him. It’s his worst nightmare
come true and his own doing.
What’s even more troubling is how near the other man is. “How in god’s name,”
he wonders out loud, “Did he get all the way to Kiev!” He sits up angry.
“Leading the damn Morlocks to conspire against me!” He jumps up and gets out of
the bed. Charles pulls on a robe and marches to the Great Hall. He finds Tessa
waiting there like she promised. She stands near the glass box holding his dead
son, but Charles doesn’t even look at it.
He stomps over to the throne instead and she follows him in surprise. “Charles.
Come here, we can face this together. You don’t have to grieve alone.” She
looks at him with big eyes but Charles sits up straight and looks backs at her
seriously.
“I’m not here to cry, Tessa.”
The woman frowns at him but reaches out with her hand. He ignores it to send
for a messenger to get the rest of the council.
He announces while Tessa looks on at him with worry. “We’re going to war.”
 
Chapter End Notes
     Warning for Dubcon because Magda was already having sex, but Charles
     stole her body and Erik didn't stop even when knew she wasn't there.
     That's not out of character for Evil!Erik but Charles should know
     better.
***** The Goal *****
Chapter Notes
     Erik's POV
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                  Eriks_(Formally_Krakow)_Poland,_March_1948
                                        
Emma screams and screams like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do in her life.
Erik is unimpressed.
She is fifteen, he thinks. That’s old enough for any girl on the planet to
start incubating babies. She has the distinct honor of housing the first phase
of Project X and instead of treating it like the scientific and genetic
breakthrough it is, she lies there, screaming. The sound is so piercing Erik
has to excuse himself from the operating table.
He walks away from the lab, deciding to go upstairs to the club. He can review
the results later with Whitehall. His presence is not really needed for this
part. Birthing babies is hardly an engineering feat.
He almost makes it when his Father calls him back.
“Erik! It’s a boy!”
Erik stops and rolls his eyes. Of course it’s a boy, he thinks. It’s a damn
clone.
The lights in the lab have been turned down when Erik reenters with his Father.
His Father jokes about the ‘virgin birth’ and Erik laughs along because the man
thinks she’s a virgin. Annaud is busy measuring fluid and bags of flesh and
slicing things up for petri dishes. Daniel hovers over Emma, his old wrinkled
hands patting her gently while she recovers. Her hair has started to come back
in wispy white curls. Daniel strokes her head and Erik scoffs at them both,
“Enough of that. Where is the little parasite?”
Emma’s mood in the last four months has been horrible and Erik blames the
project for it. They’ve never really gotten along but her foul mood has only
fed into his bad temper. They’ve been at each other’s throats all week. There
was a scheduled operation prepared for the birthing, but Emma went into labor
early. She blamed it on Erik for making her yell so much. Erik called her a
cunt and was kicked out before they prepared her. He should have stay outside,
he thinks. But Annaud dragged in back in before the screaming started. He told
Erik the baby was a ‘First of Its Kind’ and the little Red Prince should be
there to witness it.
Erik looks around for the so-called ‘first of its kind’. He expects to find
their bold new step in evolution crying on an exam table. Annaud smiles from
his microscope, “Subject C is in already in the vat, breathing perfectly fine.
Perfectly at rest.”
Emma struggles to sit up. She throws a tray tools at the old man, “Celeste! I
told you I named him! They’re not just lab rats for you to poke at!”
Erik is about to correct her but Whitehall beats him to it. “Calm down, my
dear.” He kisses her on the head. “You’ve done your job. There’s no maternal
obligation on your part. No need to name anything. The template is the primary
asset. These are just test subjects.”
Erik walks over to the vat and sees the healthy one is indeed fine. It looks
like a normal baby, he thinks. It’s a bit small, but it survived where the
other two didn’t. He sees smaller human babies in the labor camps sometimes.
Bawling monstrosities that get quieter and quieter before they die. He didn’t
hear the baby cry out, he notes. Maybe all their effort went to waste. Maybe
this is just a human baby. He stands closer to the vat and watches as the
newborn tries to suck on its thumb. There’s nothing outwardly remarkable about
this thing, he thinks. It looks a little like Charles. Big eyes, the same mouth
and nose. But he imagines Charles was a fat, healthy baby. This thing is like
an insect with wrinkled skin. He’s a little disgusted with it, honestly.
Whitehall is comforting Emma now, but as soon as she’s gone, he’ll cut up the
other fetuses. Erik would rather disappear before he’s forced to assist the old
man.
These clones are wrong, he thinks. He can’t help being loyal to the original.
He looks into the vat of blue-green water and stares at the viable subject.
“Why are we calling it Celeste?” He tosses over shoulder, “It’s a boy. They
should all be boys.” He’s just started learning about genetics from Annaud but
this much he’s certain of.
Emma has already gone to sleep but Whitehall comes over to explain. “They start
out as girls, little Red. Then at the right time we make sure they get the
extra kick they need to be proper little Xaviers.” He grins. “This little
bastard practically murdered the other two. He’s very strong, already. We’ll
have to examine our Charles again soon. I wonder if he presented in utero as
well. Perhaps we can get his mother on the table for a comparison.”
Erik shrugs. The medical part of the experiment has little interest for him.
He is interested in seeing Charles again. He didn’t understand this was the
purpose of stealing the little Blue Prince away last summer. He was even more
surprised that Annaud got Emma to incubate the project.
Father is busy congratulating everyone on a job well done. He tells Erik to
take Emma back up to her rooms to recover. Erik is supposed to be building the
girl her own suite, like his own. This means repurposing a whole floor of the
Hellfire Club and he’s not in a hurry to do so. The girl is particular about
her style, and it irritates Erik to have her dictate anything he does.
He’s slow to take her back up to her rooms, but they make it eventually. He
floats her gurney up to the elevator and down the halls. When he transfers her
to the bed, he covers her up and starts to leave.
“Is he going to kill Celeste?”
Erik sighs. He had hoped to escape without speaking to the girl.
He thinks about ignoring her and walking away, when he hears her sobbing. He
rolls his eyes again. He’s only eighteen he thinks, surely they could have
hired a midwife for all this? He wonders why he always draw the short straws
when it comes to the experiments. He knows his Father is already down there
with Annaud talking about ways to utilize and activate the little hybrid.
Whitehall is probably elbow deep in baby guts. All Erik wants to do is work on
the data for blocking brainwaves in his new hat. Specifically blocking Emma and
Essex. He’s thinking about visiting his little mouse prince on his own, but…
He stops thinking to look at Emma. She glares at him all sweaty and tired
looking on the bed. He feels the cool touch of her scanning his mind before she
bites out, “Stay away from my baby, Erik.”
Erik frowns. “I haven’t the slightest interest in the little worm. It’s the
others you should worry about. He sits down across from her and crosses his
legs. “Stay out of my head, Emma.”
She moans as she sits up, “I mean it, Erik. You stay away from my baby. The way
you’re thinking about that kid…”
“Shut up!” He snaps. Erik stands up and gets in her face, “It’s not your
concern! Charles is not your concern. You failed to be of any use and now
you’re just a fucking incubator! Keep your mouth shut about me and Char…” He
stops to fall on the floor, hands over his ears.
Cold, icy, lances of pain slice through his skull.
Emma doesn’t move again. Her voice echoes in his head, “Stay away from
Celeste!”
Desperate to get away, Erik uses his gift to topple her bed. She cries out from
under it and Erik gets up to walk around. “I’ll let Whitehall know you need his
assistance. He hears her crying from pain as he walks out the room. He thinks
he’d rather find Azazel now. Whitehall or someone else will see to her later.
If his Father asks, he’ll simply explain that she started it.
Erik goes up to his own room, first. There’s soft music playing on the radio
and Mama is laying on the couch.
She’s a handful on days like these. Erik feels increasingly annoyed with the
women in his life. First Emma and the hysterics over the birthing now Mama. He
cleans up the table in front of her, knowing she doesn’t know where to put away
the medicine. He checks her pulse and finds it even. He covers her up with a
blanket from his room before leaving his suite. Father should take better care,
he thinks. The man is excited about the project but that’s no reason to leave
Mama naked in her son’s living room. It’s just rude, he thinks. They can handle
their love affair upstairs without disrespecting his space.
It takes a while but he eventually finds Azazel lurking on the roof. The red
demon is perched upside down, tail latched on to the spire at top of the tower.
Erik tilts his head to try and make eye contact. “I need a favor, comrade. Can
you take me to check on the Subject?” The red man swings down, disappears in
front of Erik and reappears behind him. Erik is impatient, and in no mood for
the man’s theatrics. “I want to check on something before we move ahead.
Please, can you take me to him?”
The man bows deeply, “Little Red, Honorable Prince, Heir of the Seven Shining
Kingdoms…”
Erik forces a laugh. Azazel thinks he’s so funny. He shoves the man’s shoulder.
“Don’t be an ass. Just take me to check on the boy.”
“No,” says Azazel. “The Big Boss says no one but Whitehall or Annaud is
supposed to interfere with the boy’s life. I drop you, he see you, and POOF.
I’m the one in trouble. You stay put and follow their plans, okay.” He smirks
and disappears.
Erik growls at the empty space.
Fine, he thinks. He doesn’t need them anyway. He’s an adult now, damn it. He
can go see Charles by himself.
He climbs up to the top of the spire and concentrates. He’s careful to hold on
as he leans away from the spike and reaches out with one hand. The world’s
magnetosphere bends to his will. He can manipulate magnet fields enough to rip
apart whole cities. His military training has taught him to tear things apart,
but Annaud is always training him to utilize his powers for creation and
progress. He can make things as manipulating metals easily. Annaud theorizes
that if he hones his control he can move anything with a magnetic field, down
to the atomic level. He may be able to tear holes in time and space, and even…
Erik closes his eyes as he sticks out one foot, then another and looks down
cautiously. Levitating objects is one thing, he thinks. Practicing with his own
body is another. He opens his eyes and concentrates to keep his body even and
upright. Right, he thinks. Another skill to impress his Father. He thinks about
where to go next but remembers there’s no better compass in the world than his
powers. He points himself in the direction of the Pembroke Boarding School in
England and takes off.
It takes hours for him reach it, but he manages. He had to start flying lower
when the cold air chilled him to the bones. Then he had to duck and dodge
obstacles as he maintained a constant speed. It was miraculous and he’s never
felt anything like it.
He lands just out of sight, on top of one of the school buildings.
He’s self-satisfaction only lasts for a minute. Azazel appears behind him,
applauding softly. The ass.
“Congratulations, little Red. I knew you could do it one day. You almost beat
me here.”
Erik pulls his own hair, “You are such a fucking clown!”
Azazel shrugs, “Pagliacci, perhaps. The saddest clown.” He grins harder. “You
asked to come here, so I told Whitehall. He says it was good idea and come
himself.”
Erik grits his teeth. The men who work for his Father should start showing him
respect, he thinks. Instead they undermine whatever orders he gives them. He
officially joined the army last year and still they treat him like a kid. A
foundling that they tolerate for sake of their boss. Even Azazel, his dear
comrade.
Erik tries to calm his mind. He knows from experience that letting his anger
get the best of him will only embarrass him in the long run. He climbs over to
the edge of the building. “Where are they then? Which of these rooms belongs to
the Subject?”
Azazel hesitates telling him anything. The demon stands there, switching his
tail from side to side instead of answering.
In the end he doesn’t have to point Erik anywhere.
Below them, they see Charles running out of a building dressed in a blue and
white football uniform. He’s half the size of his classmates. Of course he’s
only about twelve years old. Erik sits on the roof and lets his legs dangle as
he watches the match. Charles is in the field near the goalie clearly being
ignored by his teammates as they run around the center, fighting for the ball.
Erik grins wide as he rips the cleats out of one kid’s shoe, causing the ball
to roll past him. The team scrambles to get back to it but Charles is the
nearest player. He hesitantly kicks it and sends the ball flying across the
field. Another teammate reaches it in time to knock the ball in their
opponent’s net. Everyone stands around looking surprised before they start
cheering.
Erik leans back and watches as the team decides to include Charles in the game.
If they only knew, he thinks.
Azazel taps him on the shoulder before the game can start back up. “Whitehall
is ready to go. Do you want a lift home, little Red or are you flying Air
Erik?”
Erik dismisses him with a wave, “I’m fine. Tell them I’m not bothering
anything. I just enjoy football matches.” He lies with a smile, certain the man
doesn’t really care.
Azazel shrugs before disappearing. It’s harmless enough, he thinks. Unless Emma
tells them something. But what’s there to tell? He kissed the boy once? He
remembers him? They’re friends? It’s nothing serious to report back to Annaud
or Whitehall. And why, he thinks, should they have the final say in the
Project.
Erik may not be a medical researcher, but he’s learning. His skills at creating
technology is far more valuable than anything the two glorified taxidermist can
come up with. He’s sure his father knows that. So if he wants to watch an
innocent football game between spoiled, human brats and his beloved then…
Erik frowns at the last thought. Then smiles until his face hurts. Is that what
he’s feeling? Honestly this whole time?
He watches as Charles kicks the ball and runs around after his team. Erik notes
the boy makes up for being small by being quick. He imagines his legs could be
really strong some day with more practice. Right now he’s a little elf in knee-
high socks and shorts. Erik snorts at the sight and makes himself more
comfortable on the ledge. To think, it might be love he feels. For a kid about
six years his junior. Father has pushed the whores from the club at him and
Azazel bought him a girl last year in Japan, but losing his virginity had
little spark. He always thought he should feel something more for the person
he’s with.
Like Mama and Father. They love each despite everything that happened. They
must to endure years of betrayal. But their love is unequal. Mama is a good
woman but she’s not powerful. It’s a mystery to her son how she turned the head
of such a superior mutant when she was still a young girl. Erik would argue
that Father is happy with her now, but only because she is so well trained.
Erik doesn’t want that for himself.
He watches as Charles surprises both the teams again, scoring a goal sneakily
from the edge of the field.
The boys all stand around stunned and Erik’s sure he’s the only one saw Charles
move forward. The telepath gets more cheers as the game comes to an end.
An old headmaster comes out with a whistles and tells the boys to go clean up.
Erik wonders if he can get a closer look. Now that he’s really named the
feeling, he can’t help smiling to himself.
He scans the boys for metal and follows the nails in Charles’s shoes. He climbs
down from the roof and sneaks across the building. He hovers outside a large
window and looks inside. They were outside the gym and showers. Growing up in a
ghetto and then then Hitler’s camps, Erik never went to a school like this. He
doubts many people get to see this much luxury after just rolling around in the
dirt. He can feel gold and silver fixtures inside the building. It makes him
want to spit, but he spots Charles walking the floor shirtless. He frowns as
the kids all line up to wash inside the spacious bathrooms. Two boys keep
following Charles. They look near Erik’s age, and they seem to be pestering the
smaller boy.
One kid flicks Charles’s hair. Another pushes him until he falls. Charles gets
up and calmly tells them something. Erik imagines he told them to piss off with
his soft, proper voice. He would laugh, he thinks. And the boys seem to laugh
at Charles then.
Charles smirks and raises a hand to his temples. The boys start screaming and
pointing at each other. Charles and the rest of their classmates stare on as
the bullies swat at their own bodies before running out of the gym. They burst
through the doors near beneath Erik’s hiding spot. He leaves Charles to listen
to the boys. One screams, “Spiders!” The other chokes out, “Maggots!” They keep
swatting and scratching at their own skin before they fall out on the ground
from their panic.
Erik raises a brow, tipping his head. “Well done,” he says quietly. The old
teacher from before comes out the door, dragging Charles by the ear. He’s
waving around a big stick and points to the boys on the ground. He tells
Charles to extend his hand.
Charles looks up at the man and sniffles before wiping his big blue eyes. He
looks even smaller half-way out the uniform. He hitches for breath, making his
chest cave in while he works up the nerve to take his punishment. The teacher
is melting before Erik’s eyes. Charles slowly presents his slender wrist, looks
up with his eyes wide and full of tears. The teacher groans before weakly
slapping his hand with the stick. He says something quickly and points back at
the gym. Charles runs off, escaping any real punishment.
Erik laughs from his rooftop.
He is in love, he thinks. Honestly, and truly in love with a liar. A deceitful
little sprite that looks like an angel.
For some reason this makes him happy. Charles is a vibrant force and will grow
up to be powerful mutant. Erik looks forward to the day this boy is finally at
his side.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Forgive I me, I don't play soccer. I just like the uniforms.
     Look at Daniel channeling B.D. Wong.
     And Erik, “Life finds a way and all that shit. I hate being a
     teenager.”
***** Metropolitan *****
                           Kiev,_Ukraine_April_1967
The Morlocks are more extensive than first reported. There’s a branch on every
continent, connected by networks of homeless, unemployed, uneducated and
unwanted. They are like a living organism just below the ground around all the
major metros. In Kiev they’ve branched out into an above ground colony.
Occupying a bombed factory sector, they barter and trade to make a living. The
reports are mostly peaceful, but there’s a troubling sect within the outcasts.
Politics are churning below ground and there’s whispers that say a rousing
preacher has the ears of some the most vulnerable members of society. Max Xorn
is quickly becoming a divisive figure, reportedly donning a mask as he preaches
mutant supremacy and urges his kind to denounce the false God of Utopia.
Charles balls up the latest account. He tried to keep out of Erik’s mind since
the last incident and now resorts to slowly gathering intelligence the old
fashion way. He tosses the paper in a bin and waits for his contact. He feels
the boy before he sees him. Everyone in the subway is busy, going to work,
going home. Shuttling along on their own agendas. But the boy is focused on
finding the ‘the living god’ and has grown scared. He’s about to turn away when
Charles drops his shielding. He lets just the boy see him and waves from his
bench.
The boy runs over to him immediately. He sits down and pretends to read from a
pamphlet. They agreed to keep things non-verbal before meeting.
“Everything alright, lad?” He asks, with genuine concern. A gentle scan of the
boy’s surface th oughts and he knows the boy recently ran away from his home.
His name is Shiro. His parents died ten years ago and left him to his uncle.
The man was paranoid and often spoke to himself. He killed himself after trying
to feed Shiro poison. The boy has been living in the tunnels here for almost a
year. He quickly became one of Max Xorn’s favorites. The problem is he believes
in the Great Patriarch and doesn’t want Max to lose his way. He’s genuinely
concerned for the man.
The boy practices to himself as if he were using a microphone. “Testing… Can
youhear me? I mean really?”
Charles smiles at him before making everyone in the station freeze. He looks
over to the boy. “Really.” He says out loud. “But it’s best to keep acting
natural. You don’t have to worry about being seen with me. No one is looking.”
He winks and lets everyone go.
The boy stares with his mouth agape before he catches himself. He turns to
Charles then turns away before projecting, “I can leadyouto Callisto’s. She’s
hosting him herein the underground. He has a room in the Brick City. There’s
going to be rally before dinner tonight. He’ll give a speech and everything.”
The boy nervously twists,“But there’s another telepath and a womanwho can see
the future… they might know about this already. They warn Max about things
before it happens. That’s how he got out of Albania.”
Charles nods, raising his finge rs to his temple for the show of it. “Don’t
worry about me. The Great Patriarch and I can take care of ourselves.” He
smiles, hoping he’s reassured the boy.
The boy ’s hopes and fears and tangled with reality and optimism. He believes
the Great Patriarch can fix a broken world. But he knows the Living God let the
Host ’s son die. Shiro watched the funeral from a television in the food court.
He’s afraid that Charles and the Great Patriarch aren ’t strong enough.
Charles yanks away from the boy’s mind. He stands up, “Let’s get going then.
I’d hate to miss dinner.”
Shiro stands up and tries to walk away nonchalantly. The commuters have mixed
thoughts about his act, but mostly they think he’s up to something. Charles
sees more than one person check their pockets when the boy passes them. Charles
can’t help smiling as he trails behind the boy.
They get to the mouth of a tunnel. A train pulls in and the passengers ignore
them as they slip past the yellow line. Shiro guides him to sliding door,
there’s not much room between them and the train. They hurry through it and the
boy guides Charles through a dark corridor. It opens in a surprising space,
full of light and strangely enough smelling of lilac.
Charles keeps invisible as a small woman comes in from behind a curtain. “They
you are,”she says. “I tried to find you earlier. The rally already started.
Brother Xorn is talking about the war.”
Charles rolls his eyes. Of course Erik is talking about the war, he thinks. The
man is in no position to really understand it, but he’s down here filling their
heads with lies. Charles follows Shiro as he goes down a series of halls and
cavernous abandoned infrastructure. They come out in one of the abandoned
factories. Half of it appears to be missing, probably from an attack by Erik or
Shaw in the war. There’s an open space that’s already crowded with followers.
Charles walks right up to the makeshift stage. Erik is wearing a white and red
kabuki mask. He gestures wildly with his long robes flaring out, speaking in a
deep voice. It’s almost comical, he thinks, the way the man looks like a
cartoon villain. Charles doesn’t dare get any nearer. The girl he violated
before is there, swooning over Erik’s words.
The older man continues after an applause, “And I call you all my brothers and
sisters. All of our kind, everyone on the planet. I survived being a lab rat
for the most unscrupulous human scum. I survived my family when they didn’t
want me anymore. I survived… heartache.” He looks back the girl, and one could
imagine a tender look on his face beneath the mask. He gently strokes her hair
before turning back to the audience. “And I came back stronger! Every time I’ve
been in hellfire! Every time I’ve been beaten down. You must all remember this,
brothers and sisters! No one can break you! They can steal your powers, but
they can’t take away what you are! Superior! Homo Superior!”
The crowd chants, hollering and whooping as they applaud Erik. Charles has half
a mind to wipe all of their minds and psionically attack Erik. It wouldn’t be
hard, but it’d be counterproductive. He’s here with an olive branch for now.
Erik pulls the woman close and they stand there accepting applause. She leans
up to kiss him on the neck before calling out to the people, “We have to fight
the conscription!   They want us to fightthe Fake God for them!   We cannot
stand idle while the governments that have stolen us, ripping the gifts from
our brothers and sisters, now demand we serve them in yet another war!” She’s
lying, as Charles knows she never had a mutation.
Charles scans the thoughts of the men, women, and children present. As far as
they know, Max Xorn and his darling young wife met while escaping a medical
research lab in Jerusalem. They ran to Greece where they first started
preaching. Then Albania. They’ve been skirting around Utopia afraid of the
Host’s ability. The people start chanting, “Down with the False God! Down with
Xavier!”
Max Xorn raises both hands to quiet the masses. “Charles Xavier is a powerful
mutant, brothers and sisters. I’ve said before. He is not the enemy. He is a
victim of engineering, like myself. Like my wife and many of you in my family.”
Charles gags as he listens to Erik so easily lie and manipulate the people.
“The tragic death of his son sheds light on how this world really works. The
so-called Living God did nothing to save that poor child. Can you imagine a God
that didn’t stay Abraham’s hand? Would you follow that God?”
The people shout, “No!” They grow restless, and move as one closer and closer
to the stage. Charles has had enough of this. He sees that Erik has learned how
to turn a crowd like Emma and Shaw. He doesn’t even need a magazine spread or a
billboard. A mask, a sad back story, and a pretty girl is enough to arm him
with a new regiment of powerful mutants.
“Our day in the sun will come, brothers and sisters. We will walk in the light,
unafraid, and untethered. We will show them the Real Peace!”
Aha, thinks Charles. The Real Pax movement is still alive. But where it urged
people in Shawland to accept humans, Erik has perverted it. He’s twisted the
former movement to serve his purpose, and many of the people here believe in
Mutant Supremacy, not peaceful coexistence.
Charles scans the minds again, searching for individual reasons.   Erik’s
right, he finds. About one out of ten of the mutants present has been
experimented on. There ’s a handful that can no longer express their abilities.
Many of them have one man’s name on their mind. General William Stryker.
The congregation starts to break up. The Morlock leader comes forward to urge
everyone to join her at dinner and prayer. The audience breaks up and moves out
of the building. Charles pushes slightly at Erik. He tells the man not to go
with the others. He suggests he go clean up instead.
Max excuses himself from dinner before retreating back to his room. Charles
follows him and shuts the door. The man pays him no attention so Charles stays
in the room. He watches as Erik carefully removes the mask before shucking out
of the rest of his costume. Erik is rail thin. Charles notes the scar on his
gut looks better. He looks better all around. Erik has like any religious
figurehead, been feeding off the kindness and goodwill of his followers.
The man is about to take off his pants and bathe with a bowl of water when
Charles drops his veil. Erik looks to him slowly, a smile creeping onto his
face. “Charles.” He says simply. The man seems unsurprised by the sight. It
makes Charles angry, after all he’s done to still be stared at like he’s
harmless. Like he didn’t kill this man before. Like he couldn’t end his life
now.
Charles grits his teeth, “You were expecting me, Erik?”
The man grins at him and walks over slowly. Charles is not the person he was
over a year ago. But he instinctively backs away. Erik walks him into the door
and pins Charles in, a hand on either side of the younger man’s head. “Here
again? No. I was on my way home to you actually.” He pauses to leer at Charles,
“This is a welcome surprised.”
Charles feels his face heat up as he recalls the last time. “You are not
welcomed in Utopia, Erik. Stay out or we…”
“We?” Erik licks his lips before leaning in close. “The Living God is with us
now? Was he there then?” The madman’s mind lights up with the memory of fucking
his wife after he realized Charles possessed her. Charles squirms but Erik only
backs away to raise a hand to his own mouth, “Were the two you there for the
whole experience?” He licks two of his fingers before sighing, “Did you both
enjoy it? The novelty of having me taste you that way…”
Charles gasps before getting his nerves back. He pushes the other man away and
walks further into the room. “You’re still disgusting Erik. And delusional! I
can’t believe you married that poor girl…”
Erik laughs, “Is that it? You’re jealous so you ran all the way to Kiev to
check on me yourself?” He stalks closer but Charles raises a hand. He keeps his
distance as he continues, “A marriage of convenience, Charles. Nothing properly
documented, just a way out of Israel with a warm body. You know I only care
about you.” His attempt to assure Charles that he’s still loyal makes the
younger man sick to his stomach.
Charles’s hand flies out and slaps Erik. The man is still insane, he thinks.
“The world was better off with you bleeding out in the streets. I told you I
would let you go long enough to see me take everything you cared about. It’s
done now, Erik. I’ve no reason to keep letting you live.” He huffs as he stalks
toward Erik. The metal washtub shakes and the exposed pipes overhead creak and
moan. Charles shoves Erik, “You are lying to these people. I only want to know
what’s put you up to this.”
Erik looks up at the pipes with a sad look upon his face. His eyes well up and
single tear falls down his cheek. “You took it? You kept it? How…” He looks
down at then Charles with menace written across his face. The mix of emotions
is hard to pull off but Charles feels simultaneously guilty and afraid. Erik
scowls at him, “Give it back.”
Charles scoffs, “You’re in no position to make demands.” He stands up
straighter, remembering who holds all the power now. “Now we can do this the
easy way, or I can just rip it out of your head.” He watches as Erik tenses up
with fear. It almost makes him smile to see the man finally afraid. He
continues, “Why are you leading these people against the Great Patriarch.
Wasn’t it the sum of all your dreams, to be like a God someday? You’ve changed
your tune since you fell from grace.”
He smirks at the last part and Erik narrows his eyes, “I wanted us to rule
together. To use the god’s power together. Not for you to become his puppet.
I’ve seen the broadcasts in the last months. It’s always Him at steering wheel,
Charles. He makes you… ugly and cruel. He’s using you and you don’t even see
it. It makes you any easy mark. Your family is an easy mark.”
Charles eyes widen, “Did you have something to do with my son’s death?” He
shoves the man and Erik falls to ground. Charles stands over him, full of rage
and despair. “TELL ME!”
Erik stays on the floor and keeps his eyes on the metal in the room. “I’m in no
position to lie am I? Take what you want, Charles. Look and see for yourself.
The both of you.”
Charles sneers, “You think I’m bluffing? Do you really think I won’t kill you
Erik?!”
Erik raises his hands and stares at them with the same sad look. “You promised
me suffering, Charles. I’ve suffered. I’ve felt powerless. I’ve been hungry.
I’ve let men fuck me for food and clothes. I’ve walk with bloody feet amongst
people who would happily kill me. If you wanted me dead, you could have done so
at any time. But you want me suffering instead. My poor, angry mouse.” He sits
up on his elbows to look Charles in the eye. “I don’t know why you insist on
punishing me when all I ever did was love you.”
Charles snaps and leaps onto the man, hitting Erik in the face as growls and
screams. He stops when he hears a quiet knock on the door. Erik is an unmoving
mess on the floor. His face is bloody. Dark red bruising blossoms around his
eyes and nose and mouth. The knock starts up again and Charles seeks out the
mind. He finds Shiro on the other side, concerned that they have killed each in
the last few moments.
“Go away, Shiro. And keep anyone else away. Tell the others he’s meditating.”
The boy panics on the other side of the door, “Did you kill him?”
“No…” Charles is careful not say anything else. The truth on the tip of his
tongue. Not yet, he thinks. But he will.
Charles gets up and leaves Erik unconscious on the floor. He sits on the shoddy
mattress and closes his eyes. “Please, help me. I don’t know what to do.”
The voice of the Great Patriarch is loud in his head. Charles receives an
impression of disappointment and anger. He keeps his eyes closed and starts to
retreat into the Astral Plane, but pulls back. He’s avoided it since he woke up
and started organizing a campaign against the Allied Forces. He’s afraid to go
back to there with his mind being haunted literally by the ghosts of his past.
Erik’s words echo in his memory, “Can you imagine a God that didn’t stay
Abraham’s hand.”
Charles looks at the man on floor before making up his mind. He gets up and
takes the tub of water, then upends the thing over Erik’s head. The man sits
up, sputtering and choking. Charles kneels down beside him to look him in the
eye. “I’m being attacked, Erik. On all fronts. Everyone wants to see me fail.”
He blinks until a tear falls from his eyes. “I need you, Erik. Tell me you
didn’t have anything to do with this. Tell me who set you up here? Help me,
Erik.” He’s practically in the other man’s lap, speaking while he roots around
in Erik’s memories.
The other man shakes his head before he starts laughing, “Take it, Charles.
Just take it and stop acting like you have to torture me for it. Or seduce me.
Just take it.” He sits up and puts his hands on Charles waist. The physical
reaction is instantaneous for them both.
Charles pulls away but Erik rocks up and he feels the man growing hard beneath
him. “Alright,” he says settling on Erik’s lap. “Alright. I can look.” He says
while grinding down. Erik looks jubilant to have him again. Charles closes his
eyes and lets his body rock. They’re both still clothed, but he’s certain he’s
never felt this before. He shuts out the anger and disapproval from the Great
Patriarch. The noise from the rabble of poor mutants in the vicinity. The sound
of his heart beating rapidly as he gives in and lets his body feel the way used
to. What he feels in Erik’s mind is lust, red angry hatred, a whirlpool of
conflicting desires.
With his eyes close he hears a loud ringing sound, white noise then crackles in
his ears. When Charles opens his eyes he’s in the red bed. On his back, his
cock out and Erik moving above him. The other man bites down on his neck, takes
out his own cock and grips them both with one hand. Charles reaches up to hold
Erik still at his neck, “Yes… god yes.”
Erik bites down harder, “You’re still mine, Charles. I missed you. I missed you
so much.” He moves his hand faster and Charles comes surprisingly fast. His
body feels heavy as he shakes with tremors. Erik licks at his mouth, so he
opens it and lets the other man kiss him.
Erik moans and brings him back to the present. He’s still in Erik’s lap and
there’s come spattered between them. Erik is still hard and now trying to get
Charles’s pants off. “No,” says Charles feeling weak and dazed. Charles is sent
to floor as Erik tries to get him naked. The telepath looks down between them
with disgust before struggling in earnest to get away. He pushes Erik away with
a rough shove and backs up to the door. The other man paws after him, but
Charles knocks him unconscious with a thought.
Charles sobs while at the door, “What am I doing?” He looks around the broken
little room. He cries, “Why am I here at all… What am I doing?” He slides down
the door and covers his face with his hands. The ever constant pain in his
skull has grown worst. He clutches his head and cries at his own weakness.
“Please just help me.”
 
***** Terror and Greatness *****
 
                            The_Astral_Plane,_1966
“Incredible…”
Seeing Hank again was a shock. But the other man was quick about following
along with Charles and Daniel’s plans. Lila had held onto Lucas while Daniel
disappeared with Azazel. Charles was uneasy once he actually saw the machine.
The parts were exposed, strange piping everywhere, and circuitry with tools
sticking out of them. Still, Hank went to Pembroke with him. They went to
Oxford together. They were friends long after they bonded as wunderkinds. So
having him nearby with something so big was a comfort. Charles had watched
Lucas stare around in awe of all the technology. He told his son to be brave,
that they were all going to be okay.
Daniel had returned wearing a lab coat and goggles. He gave them a manic thumbs
up and ran over to Hank, whispering something in his ear. Hank had frowned but
nodded, “Charles we’re almost ready.” He led Charles to a dais with a sturdy
chair in the center. “This is going so fast… Okay here goes.”
Charles had been fitted with a strange helmet hooked up to all the panels and
machinery. Charles had to sit down and hold the thing with both hands, it was
so heavy. Hank didn’t give them a countdown. It started unexpectedly and
Daniel’s real surprise from downstairs was the first thing Charles noticed.
“Dad?”
Charles waves his hand around in the gray mist, desperate to clear it up. “Is
that you?” He asks a familiar shape. His father comes closer and closer and
smiles at him. Charles is elated to see Brian_Xavier, no matter what form he’s
in now. He tries to touch his father, but the shape dissolves in the mist.
“I’ll be home soon, Charles.” His father’s voice echoes. “We’ll fix everything
together. Just like old times.”
Charles cries, “Dad… Is it really you? What’s happening?”
Another shadow falls over Charles, and this one grows larger and larger. “You
will make a fine Host, for the time being. Not just a consort, but a true
equal. You are marvelous, Charles Xavier.”
Charles frowns and tries to stare up at the shadow. “You are not my Dad,” he
accuses. “Who are you and what do you want?”
The presence in the mist is silent but the Astral Plane changes. They are in a
desert, surrounded by sand and bodies. Charles covers his face as the familiar
smell of decaying bodies left out in the sun makes him gag. He remember sights
like this from touring in North Africa. It was never pleasant then and the
memory of it now makes his stomach turn. But it’s not his memory. He looks in
the distance and sees pyramids. Not the famous ones in Giza, but smaller
cousins up the Nile. The dead are dressed like soldiers depicted in
hieroglyphs. This is certainly not one of Charles’s memories.
“This is my birthplace. Where I became first of our kind. The template for our
whole species. I fathered many sons and daughters over the last five thousand
years. I do not tolerate weakness, child. Are you as weak as my last host? Have
you the strength to really bring me into the world?”
Charles doesn’t know how to answer. He remembers vaguely the outside world.
There, Daniel is waiting with some kind of concoction he stole from Essex’s
lab. If bringing this creature into reality threatens his life or that of his
family, Daniel will put them both down. Charles weighs everything he wants with
the things he’s afraid of losing.
“If I agree to this… to being yours, in whatever capacity you want. Will you
promise me to protect my family?”
The shadow reappears over the desert and the landscape is cleared of the dead
bodies. Its replaced by a tribe of people, their tents all lit up with
firelight. People dance and sing and talk. It’s a homey looking tableau.
The presence from the mist reappears behind Charles. Charles turns to see his
father standing with his arms open. “I am En Saber Nur. The First One. The
Father of All. And I promise you, my child.” He smiles and walks up to Charles,
enveloping the smaller man in his arms. “I will protect you. I will protect our
family for the good of the whole world.”
Charles breaks down and starts crying. He throws his arms around the man’s
neck, “Please help me. Please. I want to be strong. I have to stop them all…
They’ve taken everything. He killed my wife. He took my son. Please. Please
help me.” He sobs in the man’s ear.
En Saber Nur holds him tighter, “Then accept me, Charles. It can be painful,
but I need you to accept me. Let me in close to you, child.” He pulls away to
look Charles in the eyes. Brian had brown eyes, but this doppelganger has red
eyes. Charles is curious and raises his hand to trace the man’s face and the
creature smiles at him for it. “You are not afraid. I know that, my brave
little soldier. A real warrior makes the best of any circumstance. You fight on
in any way you can. I admire that, Charles. I can help you win. Do you want
that?” He asks with a gentle smile.
Charles is so used to having everything stolen from him. So used to having no
choice. Used to placating and acting to get what he wants. This is refreshing,
he thinks. This is incredible, feeling the love he remembered for the short
time he had a father enveloping his mind. He cherishes the feeling and buries
his face in the man’s neck. With a small nod, he gives his consent.
Together they seek out the minds of all the mutants under Shaw’s rule. The
force of bringing the great being out of Astral Plane is amplified by Cerebro.
The building is being ripped to shreds and all the metal is melting or rattling
as Charles loses control of the stolen gift.
“Gently, child.”
“No.”
Charles sees the building is falling apart and is happy to cause its demise. He
sends for Azazel and lets him evacuate the building, first taking Hank, Daniel,
Lila, and Lucas. Hank tries to refuse, claiming the machine needs to be
monitored. Charles knocks him unconscious and the devil taps his friend and
transport him to Westchester.
Charles searches the world for his sister and finds in her in the arms of
another woman in Japan. Erik’s reported traitor has fallen hard for his little
sister and they are both surprised to find the demonic teleporter in their
room. Charles gently puts them to sleep as well, and sends them home. Now that
everyone he cares about… ah but there is Logan. The bursts into the room
chasing the smell of sulfur. He looks surprised to see the girls gone and more
surprised when Azazel appears above him and takes him back to Sharon’s mansion
as well.
Charles smiles as the being inside him helps to protect his family.
“Now,” he thinks. “They all need to die.”
“Agreed.”
Together they find the mind of former President Shaw. He’s surrounded by
supporters in Transylvania. Their thoughts are centered on murdering Erik’s
beloved, then holding a public execution and for Shaw’s heir. Charles and En
Sabur Nur shake the castle housing the conspirators. Shaw falls to ground,
absorbing the impact and gaining power. Until Charles holds him place, freezes
his ability then turns it inwards. The man’s insides explode. The organs in his
gut shake apart, his bones crack. He thrashes on the floor, holding his head as
his brain shakes apart in his skull.
He’s so elated that for a moment he feels the mind of every sentient, living
soul on the planet. The moment is too much, and Charles cries out in pain. But
The First One helps him reign in his powers and concentrate. He focuses on
those minds that are close to Shaw and Erik and shuts them all down,
instantaneously. He falters around the mind of Victor Creed and the Great Being
stops him from trying.
“He is an immortal, child. It will be difficult to negate the power inherit
within him.”
Charles frowns, “Help me, then. Help me erase him completely. He needs to be
punished for what he did to my sister.”
Charles feels a nudge in his own mind, an idea of how to permanently erase the
man’s mind. They do so quickly and Creed is left a confused heap, still locked
up in a cell beneath Fort Ironclad.
Charles is thankful to see his revenge finally carried out. The minds of all
his enemies have either been wiped or destroyed. Erik is… not where he was
left. En Sabar Nur tries to nudge him elsewhere. “I can deal with this pain for
you, my child. You don’t have to carry another burden.”
Charles pushes on, seeking out Erik’s mind. He explains, “This is important. I
want him to die. I need him to die, but not until he’s been punished. I want
the world to bring him low, just like he did me. I want him to suffer for his
sins and then I want to put metal blade in his heart and stand by as it stops
for good.”
Charles feels amusement from the other being possessing his body. “My son,
that’s all possible. You are my family now, and we will take care of each
other.”
Charles is sent back to the Astral Plane while the other moves around in his
body. The sensation of being forced out of his own mind is painful. It leaves
tears as a part of him struggles to remain with his corporal body. A gentle
shove is enough to fall him back into the sand.
He’s lays there, looking up at misty sky and waits.
“Charles?”
Charles sits up, recognizing the voice. “Tessa?”
She stands there in a dark cloak, a hood drawn up over her head. She smiles at
him before running over to him. He sits up in time to catch her and they tumble
in the sand. She sits on his lap smiling, “Charles. It’s you. You saved me.”
Charles shakes his head. “No. I’m not really driving the bus. There’s someone
you should meet…”
“Excuse me,” says another voice. They both look over. A short distance away a
gray-skinned man with black lips, a bald head, and tattoos stumbles in the
sand. “Excuse me. I just woke up I… I think I’m lost.” He stands up and looks
around at all the sand. “Can you show me how to get to Detroit?”
Charles and Tessa erupt with laughter. Charles chokes on humor and sand as he
and his old friend tries to stand up. Tessa brushes herself off addresses the
newcomer. “What’s your name, friend? How did you get here?”
The man shrugs, “I can’t remem… wait. No! My name,” he grins at them both, “My
name is Vincent!”
Charles walks up to Vincent and hugs the man. “Welcome, brother. Everything is
going to be okay from now on.” He pulls back and looks the man in the eye. “You
are not alone. Our Father…” he laughs, “The Great Patriarch walks the Earth and
we are his cherished sons and daughters.” He smiles and Vincent smiles with
him. He looks back at Tessa to see her frowning. “What’s wrong?”
The woman shakes her head, “You’ve got to get out of here Charles. You have
stay away from this place. It can go bad, so quickly.” She hurries over to
them. “I’ve been here for a long time. I’ve been the living dead. You can’t
stay here, Charles. No matter how strong you are. You have to keep out.”
Charles raises an eyebrow and takes pity on her, “Don’t worry, Tessa. This
isn’t the same thing. I’m going to get you both the help you need. We are going
to stick together, and no force on earth will be able stop us.”
Vincent looks especially confused, “Stop us from what? I mean… what exactly are
we doing?”
Charles looks between them both, feeling their doubt seep into mind. “We are,”
he starts off unsure, “We are architects.” He finds his voice as he takes in
their surroundings. The mist rises from the world around and they are projected
in space, somewhere over the earth. “We are the builders. Like the ancient
Egyptians. The Mesopotamians. The great delta civilizations across the planet.
We will help a Living God create a new world. The best of all possible worlds.
Peace for all mankind. Mutants and humans.” He grins as the world turns slowly
beneath them, parts of it light up and they see in red the minds of mutants and
in white minds of Humans. Charles reaches out and touches the world, sends the
illusion spinning before laughing.
Tessa pulls him away and breaks down the scenery. They’re all standing in what
appears to be Count Nefaria’s castle. A sitting room, with a grand piano in
front a balcony. Tessa wraps her arms around herself, “This is where I go when
I want to feel safe. It’s the last time I felt in control. I had power and
dominion. I was doing good work. I had the attention of Sebastian Shaw and
never once had to do anything really evil.” She sits at the piano, “What is it
you want to do, Charles?”
Vincent stares around the space in blank wonder. He moves to sit with her and
idly presses keys, “It sounds like he wants to take over the world. Don’t you
have run for President or something first?” He looks at Charles, “I didn’t ask.
Are you a President or something?”
Charles is not at ease with their doubt and suspicion. “No. I’m no one
important. I’m a soldier. Captain Charles Xavier. Allied Forces, Tactical Army.
I’m a strategist. I lead people into people…” He stops himself. “And I’m a
father. My son’s name is Lucas. He’s getting very tall. He smiles like his
mother.” Charles smiles and wipes away an errant tear. “I just want to save my
family. I don’t want to be king of world.”
Vincent laughs and starts playing the piano with surprising gusto. “Then that
leaves me! I’ll take the job, if you’re not up to it, Charlie.” He leers at
Tessa. “You can be First Lady. We can get you a tiara or something.” He smiles
looking back down at the keyboard. “Or we can be like the Brits.” He looks at
Charles, “You guys have room full of men in white wigs making up all the laws
right? We can buy some wigs!”
Tessa frowns at the man but Charles thinks he’s a genius. “That’s right! We can
help each other! Council the Living God, to keep this from getting out of
control!” He runs over to them excitedly and kneels beside Tessa. He looks up
into the woman’s eyes, ignoring the shadows that spill from her hood. “If
you’re worried I’ll take this too far, then help me. Both of you can stay and
help me. Please?” He asks making his eyes big, “Please keep me grounded.
Whisper ‘Memento Mori’ in my ear?”
Tessa smiles down at him sadly, “If I ever have to do that Charles, it’s too
late. Remember that, my friend.”
He nods, agreeing for her peace of mind. “You’ll see. You’ll both see. This is
the best thing that could happen to the world. I believe it. I believe in The
First One.”
Vincent goes still, “En Saber Nur.” He looks over to Charles, “En Saber Nur?”
The landscape falls away and they’re surrounding by darkness. The only light
seems to come from a hole far above their heads. Vincent starts crying and
Tessa takes the man in her arms. Charles shushes them both, “It’s alright.” He
looks at the top of the hole. He come for us all soon. He’ll save us all.
You’ll see, my friends. I believe.”
When Charles next opens his eyes in the physical world, he laid out in his own
bed. The sheets he bought with Moira are on the bed, and the pillow beneath his
head still smells like his late wife. He sobs before sitting up, feeling dizzy
and achy. A dull thrumming, pain pounds away at his temples. He gets up on
wobbly legs to go the bathroom. The first thing he sees is his reflection. He’s
shocked by the discoloration of his mouth and eyes.
He stares at himself for a long moment before his father’s voice rings out in
his head. “This is temporary, child. You’ll be your own beautiful self soon
enough.”The other being is full of humor and fondness. Charles grins at his
reflection and reveals the shark like teeth. He flinches at the sight, “You’ll
get used to it, Charles.”
Charles moves to the tub, suddenly craving a warm bath. “I’m at home,” he says
intelligently.
“Yes, and so are all the others. I kept my promise, Charles. But you have to
leave here soon. The last week has been hectic for the world. We need a base
for our followers to come together. You mother’s lovely home would fill up far
too soon.”
Charles steps in the water, feeling the soreness in his muscles fade away. The
headache persists but he assumes it’ll fade with time. “Mother would love to
house our mission. Have you met Sharon?”
Charles gets a warm, tolerant feeling from the Great Being, “Your mother is a
merely human. A weak and indolent one at that. But… she has certain qualities.
I can see how she’s influenced your strength, my son.”
Charles leans back in the tub, “And the others?” He asks aloud. “My son and
sister?”
The god doesn’t answer, he leaves Charles with the impression of Cheshire cat,
grinning while fading in the darkness.
The bathroom door slams open and Charles is surprised to see Raven.
“Is it you?” She asks. She stands in the doorway, naked and wild-eyed.
Charles blushes and covers himself with one hand while raising his other hand
to his eyes. “Raven! Go put some bloody clothes on!”
He can’t see her, but she screams out. She runs over to the tub and throws her
arms around his neck. “You fucking psychopath! It’s really you! Brilliant,
dorky you!” She squeezes him harder and feels how much stronger she’s grown.
Charles coughs in her grasp but doesn’t push her away.
“Raven.” He says sadly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.
I tried to come home. I did my best…”
“You best was good enough, Chuck.” Charles looks at the doorway and sees Logan
leaning there. The big hairy man looks at the siblings with a warm smile
plastered on his scruffy face. “She would’a went barging into Shawland armed to
teeth if I didn’t stop her. I’m glad you kept us all from making a big a
mistake, and rescued your own sweet self this time.”
He walks over to the tub and Charles feels like his face couldn’t get any more
red, “A little decorum, sir. I’m in the bath.”
Raven sits up and pinches Logan, “After all he’s been through this is probably
uncomfortable, you lumber jack. Out!” She steers him away from tub and Logan
smirks and walks backward out the door.
Charles folds up around the rim of tub, still hiding himself from his sister.
“Thanks. I’m alright now. I’m not really a prude you know. How many times did I
go skinny dipping in the pond?”
Raven stands up and he averts his eyes, “Enough times to be over seeing me in
my own skin. Honestly, Charles.” She splashes him with the bath water before
going to the door. “I’m glad it’s you. We were scared you might not come back.
You friends are here waiting for your orders. I’ll bring Lucas and Sharon up to
you when you’re ready.”
“How is he,” he asks with fresh tears welling up his eyes. “Is he alright after
everything? They didn’t hurt him in the lab did they?”
Raven changes shape, appearing to wear a white dress and thigh-high boots. She
smiles at softly, “He as good at coping with this as you are… he’s a fighter
Charles. He’s going to be okay.”
Charles breaks down and really cries then. His sister knows enough to give him
some space and leaves the bathroom.
Charles stays in the water alone for another hour or so before the door cracks
open. He sits up and sees a little mop of brown hair peeking in.
“Lucas!” He sits up, “Wait just there! I’ll get a robe and come to you.” He
doesn’t get to do anything. His son runs into the bathroom, like his aunt, and
hugs his neck.
“Daddy! I missed you so much! I had to stay with Ms. Xavier and she is not
fun!” He pouts before burying his head in Charles’s shoulder. “I miss Mommy
too, but the Great Patriarch said she was in Heaven. He said you were visiting
her but you would come back to me.” He sniffles, “And he told the truth. You
are back!”
Charles smiles, “I missed you, too. Oh my little darling…” He rubs circles in
his son’s back, marveling at how much he’s grown. “I missed you so much. With
every fiber of my being, I missed you. And Mommy misses you too. But…” He pulls
away to look his son in the eye. “She is very proud of you. We are both so
proud of you for being such a good boy! I’m so happy to see you again, Lucas…”
He sobs into his son’s hair, giving him a kiss at the top of his head. “But go
into the other room. I need to put some clothes on before Ms. Xavier comes in
here, too. That would be embarrassing.”
His son laughs, and the boy’s voice lights up in his ears like tinkling bells.
Charles commits it to memory, to call for any ‘bad’ day he might have in the
future. He son is an angel, he thinks. He watches the boy tip toe on bare feet
back out the bathroom, then gently close the door.
Charles leans back in the tub scrubs a hand across his face. “I’m finally home.
Thank you.” He sighs and lets another shuddering sob out. “Thank you so much.”
***** Glass Houses *****
Chapter Notes
     Erik's Pov
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                            Kiev,_Ukraine_April_1967
 
The world is blank and empty one moment and the next he’s shocked back into
consciousness.
“What right did he have to refuse?”
Erik looks around the room, certain he’s hearing a projection. He’s lived with
a telepath for most of his life and can tell the difference between his own
thoughts and planted ones. Most of the time, he amends. With anyone but
Charles.
Think of the devil… the other man is still there, still pressed against the
door. Erik sits up properly and eyes him. The younger man doesn’t seem all
there. He’s mumbling to himself in an odd voice, hunched over his knees and
hiding his face. Erik approaches him cautiously.
“What right did he have to refuse?”
Erik stops and looks around the room. He can guess at the third party. “Can you
show yourself, living god? Or is throwing your voice the extent of your all-
mighty powers.” He kneels down in front of the younger man. When there’s no
answer, he lifts Charles’s head.
Erik falls back in shock. He’s seen the younger man’s changed appearance on
television, but in person it’s more… real. He doesn’t like it at all.
“Hypocrite.”
“Fuck you,” he bites out. “What right do you have to possess him like this?”
Charles’s head tilts, but it’s the Great Patriarch that looks Erik in the eye.
“I am The First One. You preach against me amongst the weak and feeble. You
tell them I am not worthy.”
Erik stumbles backwards, “You are not real!” He blusters even as he doubts
himself. “Jean-Jac…. No,” he shakes his head remembering the truth, “Phaedar.
He told me all your secrets. You are old, and perhaps powerful… but not a God.
Not really!”
Erik thinks about the knife he’s hiding under the mattress, the swords in the
corner, the old mallet he keeps for cracking nuts under the bed. It’s all
useless to him without his powers. He stays in place shaking as the body of
Charles Xavier stands up and stalks over to him. The overall effect is
intimidating even with his pants still undone. Perhaps even more so. Erik pulls
his own clothing back together. He has no intention of getting intimate with
this creature.
“You think Phaedar has any real knowledge of The First One? He is an old
experimenter, and his only interest is in his craft. He would have let this
child die to start again. He is not worthy.” The living god hisses in Erik’s
face. “It was my true sons and daughters that brought you to this place. The
Clan works against my ascension in this realm.” The red sclera of the eyes is
so off-putting Erik has to look away.
He stares at the floor as he defends his former patrons, “They didn’t bring me
here. They healed me and left me to die in Jerusalem.” Truthfully, they told
him to keep a low profile, and Annaud said he’d contact Erik when the time was
right. After being assaulted and having his shoes stolen the first time, he
gave up on waiting. He sneers at the false god, “Surely you saw that much with
Charles.” He looks up to smirk, “Or didn’t he bring you along when he sought me
out?”
An invisible force lashes out and pushes Erik to the floor. He crawls back to
this bed and stays there, his hand under the mattress. The false god laughs at
him. “He certainly did. We enjoyed your suffering together.” Erik’s mask floats
up from the bundle of robes on the bed. Erik snatches it out of the air puts it
back. The god smiles at him, “He had hoped you would die by the hand of rapists
and murderers. As you deserve.”
Erik’s mind is barraged with his own memories. Being pissed on by strangers,
fighting for a scrap of moldy bread, selling himself for a coat that winter. He
pulls his own hair to shake the images loose, and the creature before him
laughs. Erik ignores the stinging in his eyes. He will not cry, he thinks. His
Father made sure to beat that out of him a long time ago.
The fake god tilts Charles head as he listens to Erik’s thoughts, “But you
survived, Erik. You’re stronger than my Host gives you credit for. Stronger
than you ever believed yourself to be.”
Erik swallows his fear, “I’ve always know I was strong. I was like a god!
Connected to every atom in this world! You are just a parasite. I know all
about you. We studied you for years. Phaedar says…”
A strange light sparks from Charles’s hand and Erik moves a little too late. A
beam of energy sears the skin on his shoulder and he yelps indignantly in
response.
The bitten off cry amuses the living god. He smiles with sharp teeth and Erik
finally grips for the knife. It’s of little comfort, but he holds it with his
good arm and scrambles to get to the door.
“Quiet, boy.” The Charles imposter raises his hand, “If you know all about me,
then you should know the main reason my children seek me out. Without my Host
body in their possession they have no access to my blood, the key to Phaedar’s
regeneration.” The eerie smile gets wider, “It’s my technology they use to heal
themselves. Without me, they are at a loss. But they’ve betrayed me in the last
thousand years.”
Erik is so afraid he’s slow to process anything. He breathes roughly against
the door, “Charles didn’t seek me out here…” He frowns, “You did. What do you
want?”
“To return the favor.” The fake god walks forward, and Erik feels frozen to the
spot. “If you hadn’t given this worthy vessel the chance, I wouldn’t be here.”
He laughs, “If you had not pushed him to the edge of insanity, I would still be
holed up in that decrepit hypnotist.”
Between one blink and the next the God’s appearance changes. It’s Charles.
Sweet, beautiful Charles standing in front of him. Speaking with his own voice,
“The blood of the Host can heal any mutant not long dead.”
Erik scowls, “Then why didn’t you bring back the boy?” It’s a talking point for
many of his rallies. The Living God could have saved a fellow mutant, a child,
the son of his Host. But he didn’t. Erik looks at the being through narrowed
eyes. He doesn’t care if the child lives or dies. But he’s suspicious of anyone
who causes Charles pain. Especially if he didn’t order it.
The fake Charles smiles at him, tip-toeing to speak in his ear. There’s static
in the air around them as he whispers, “Haven’t I already?”
He projects the Great Hall of the Gray Palace. Erik saw the funeral on
television, all the black-wearing mourners trailing behind the Living God as
they paid their respects. This is not the funeral, but after the boy was laid
to rest. Erik frowns at the sight as Hank McCoy seals the in his casket. He has
a computer monitoring the giant slab of marble and glass. He looks frustrated
but he stands up, “Vitals are stable.” He marches off and leaves the God to
look down at the boy, not just preserved but healing.
“The child is but sleeping. And His father is mourning,” says the fake god.
Charles’s voice goes from prep school to menace as hovers over Erik. “The world
is going to burn for this. The humans are especially going to pay. Don’t you
want to see that, Magneto?” He backs away and licks his lip. “Don’t you want to
be whole as the worthy prepare to take this world?”
Erik eyes the man’s lips. “What exactly do I have to do to be considered
worthy?”
Charles’s hands come up to his face, fingers stroke his hair before settling
near his neck. It’s an uncomfortable position for Erik. He’s always been on the
other side of this threat. “I’ve already found many of my true heirs, but some
of the most powerful ones still elude me. They’re blocking me with your
wonderful technology aren’t they?” He smiles as his thumb strokes the
prominence in Erik’s throat. “If you should hear from them again… I’d
appreciate it if you told me.”
He backs up and leaves Erik looking dumbfounded against the door. “That’s all.”
He breathes in fresh air, feeling sick to his stomach of all sudden. “And what
do I get for doing that?”
The false god throws his hand up and waves his fingers, summoning the knife
from under the bed. Erik is terrified but stays put. The god opens his left
hand and cuts across in a quick slash. The blood that pools forth is dark
indigo. Hardly human at all. Erik frowns at the sight and the god steps forward
again, holding that out. “Drink. Heal your injuries. I assure you, this is
better than the diluted fare you’ve been subjected to under your old,” he
grins, “Dr. Annaud.”
Erik shakes his head, wary of the any promises from drinking blood. He lived
under Mister Sinister long enough to know better. “I’ll pass. There’s a kid
here with healing abilities. He owes me a favor.”
Charles’s face is suddenly alien to Erik, the strange markings and
discoloration reappearing. He steps back and holds his hand to his chest. “Suit
yourself, boy.”
Between one blink and the next Charles has disappeared. And thankfully taken
the living god with him.
Erik’s hand is shaking and he tries to control it while turning the doorknob.
He opens the door and falls out of his room, forgetting his mask and robes. He
doesn’t care for the moment. Let the others see him, he thinks. He just doesn’t
want to go back in that room.
 
It’s Shiro of all people who finds him.
“Sir!” The boy shouts. Being one of the few to have seen his face. The boy
kneels down beside him.
Erik imagines he’s a sight. Bloody and bruised again. He motions to the door,
“Go fetch my mask. And my swords. I need them.”
The child nods before hurrying inside. He gets them quickly and helps Erik to
adjust the mask over his head. “Sir are you alright? I… ah. I heard voices. But
Ms. Magda wasn’t in there. She’s at the dinner table with Ms. Callisto. They
were just talking about you. They told the others you didn’t feel well.”
“Perhaps I need a shave,” he grins under the mask. “I don’t feel like myself
with a beard anymore. I think I’m in need of some fresh air.” He stands up on
shaking legs, his knees knocking together. He rather shoot himself before he
admits his nerves were rattled. He distracts himself instead. “A trip to Greece
sounds good this time of year. What do you think? Would you like to come with
me and Magda?”
The boy eagerly nods his head, “Are you…” He stops to look around like expects
to be caught. He’s one of Erik’s favorite. The boy is quiet and stealthy. His
ability to set himself aflame is impressive. He has a talent for sucking cock
as well. Erik prefers him to the other urchins that clamor for his attention.
It’s almost like the old days, he thinks. He steels himself to present a
stronger image before addressing the boy again.
Erik waves away any questions the boy has, “I want you to go into town.
Remember that big house with the old man?”
The boy nods his head. Erik dragged him along to his last check-in with
Worthington. The boy had asked if they were going stay and live there. Erik had
laughed in his face and fucked him that night while Magda was in prayer. The
boy is really loyal, he thinks. There’s not a deceptive bone in his body.
Erik pats the kid on the shoulder, “I want you to go to that house with a
message for me. Tell the old man to come down here and meet with me. It’s very
important.”
Erik watches as the boy nods and runs away. He stays just outside his room for
a long time. It’s gotten quite dark outside when Magda returns.
“There you are,” she says smiling, “I thought you were laying down or
something. Is it your stomach again?”
Erik smirks beneath the mask. He’s lied about having an upset stomach so much,
it’s almost comforting to tell the truth. “My head hurts actually. I fell on
some bricks on my way to the room. I think I just lost a fight with the
factory.” He laughs at his own elaboration.
Her eyes land on the swords, “Why are those out?” He shrugs and she picks them
up first, putting them back in their place. When she comes back he’s hunched
over and groaning. She rushes him into the room, and he hesitates for a second
before letting her settle him on the bed.
The woman removes his mask and tuts over him. She almost sounds like Mama, he
thinks. But he tosses the thought. Comparing the girl to Mama really does to an
upset stomach.
“I’m fine”, he says she tugs at his beard. “I’ve had worst. No floor can take
me out, woman.”
She laughs and color rises to her cheeks. It makes her look younger and more
girly. She’s been playing the heroine in their little show for the last couple
months. She delights in telling people that she had dangerous mutant power. So
the government shut her down and stole her name. She’s a natural liar and Erik
has a soft spot for manipulative actors. One may have killed him before and
left him bleeding out. His own beloved burned down his home, his country, his
very existence. But he sees a brighter future himself, now.
She kneels down to help him out of his clothes. She frowns at his pants. He’s
still damp from the water and she must notice the cum stains but doesn’t say
anything. She never does. Instead she helps him undress. Up close she notes his
shoulder with a quirk of her eyebrow. “I suppose the floor burnt you as well,
Max.”
He grins broadly at her, not offering any explanation. She shakes her head at
him, in a Mama-like fashion. It almost makes him feels bad.
The woman lays him down. “I’ll go fetch some warm water and we’ll get cleaned
up for bed.” She rubs his knobby knee before looking for the washtub. It’s
still on the floor, turned over where Charles left. She doesn’t ask anything
about the room and leaves, closing the door and locking it from the outside
with their shared key.
Erik lays back and thinks of the future. Most of the ceiling is damaged. The
pipes in the middle of the room run the building. They used to pump cool water
through the factory. A hole above his head reveals installation. Magda’s argued
before that it’s probably back in asbestos and they should move the bed. Erik
decline. He likes how the pink fluff peaks out at him. It reminds him of cotton
candy.
Speaking of food, he thinks. He hasn’t eaten since this morning. Charles kept
him from the evening meal. Probably a bowl of porridge or stew, but heartier
stuff since he became Max Xorn.
He waits for his bride to return and is surprised instead to see Shiro. The boy
didn’t use a key, he used a friend. Erik sits up while a group of urchins
surround his bed. “Kitty, I told you to never do that.”
The girl is only eight years old and looks pleased with herself. She holds up
three fingers, “I moved three people today!   Three!”
Erik puts her hand down and looks at the third person. Bohdan is quiet like
Shiro. But he doesn’t suck cock or do anything interesting like walking through
walls. He does have the ability to heal minor injuries and emits a soft glowing
light. The people underground call him an angel but his severe appearance keeps
him in hiding. The boy has red skin and thick mane of violet hair. He face is
half human boy, a normal cupid bow mouth and then an extraordinary broad
leonine nose. Complete with whiskers and big yellow eyes. It almost looks like
a mask. Erik likes the look but the boy is afraid to go anywhere near humans.
It annoys the hell out of him.
Shiro points to his shoulder, “Can you heal that and his face? He has important
work to do and can’t do it all beat up.”
Kitty climbs up to the bed and pulls at his hair until he turns to look at her.
She squints at him, “What happened to your eye? And your nose? And your mouth?”
She pulls away her hand. It’s a little tacky with drying blood. He’d almost
forgotten he had his head beat on the floor. She adds, “And your hair’s hurt
too!”
Bohdan shuffles from foot to foot, or paw to paw rather. He doesn’t look Erik
in the eye. “Were you fighting, Brother Xorn?”
Shiro hushes him, “It’s his business. You have one job to do.” He shoves a
finger in the smaller boy’s chest. He looks at Erik with an obedient smile.
“First this, and I’ll go run that errand you asked me to sir.” He’s so
desperate to please, it makes Erik’s teeth ache.
He sighs heavily, “Alright you little gang, go on.” He sits back and waits for
the boy’s healing hand. Bohdan hesitates, shuffling closer at an awkward pace
with his hand outstretched. Kitty tires of him and pushes Erik forward. The
boy’s hand collides with his head.
Erik’s is engulfed in a soft light. He skin feels like it’s under cool, running
water. When the boy backs away, Erik looks down and sees his shoulder is
healed. He imagines his face is clear as well. The boy has tried a handful of
time to heal his gut wound, improving its appearance and his mobility. But even
now, after the sixth try, Erik still feels a dull thrumming pain in middle. And
a particular urge to satisfy himself. Especially after losing Charles again.
Erik smiles at the children. He tries to look open and grateful, “Thank you
all. Especially you, Bohdan.” The boy flusters from the compliment. He accepts
a hug from Kitty before the girl gets off the bed. “Now I need you all to do me
another favor.”
They wait eagerly to hear him speak, their little mouths hanging open in
anticipation.
“You,” he points to Kitty, “and Bohdan will go find Magda. She went to the well
to get some water. She might already be heating it. Split up and find her. Tell
her, I’ve changed my mind. But I am hungry. Tell her to go to Destiny to trade
our old water bowl for some hamburgers. I want each of you to have one as
well.” He smiles and the try to hurry off. Kitty stops before phasing out the
door. “What about Shiro?”
Erik lays back down, “He can sit with me until she gets back.” He looks up at
the boy who’s already started blushing. “Do you mind? You can run the errand
tomorrow.”
The boy licks his lips before waving his friends off, “Go on, you two. Do like
he asks!”
With the children gone, Shiro happily climbs on top of Erik’s lap. With the
chores he gave Magda to run, the woman will be gone for almost an hour. That’s
enough time, he thinks.
He’s right, of course.
Nearly an hour later Magda tries to open the locked door, but Erik’s already
locked it with their dead bolt from the inside. He hears her shuffling around
outside. Serves her right, he thinks. She’s so gullible sometimes it hurts. He
sighs and rolls off of Shiro. The boy is in deep sleep. His body is marked from
the neck down. Erik gets up to open the door.
He curtly tells his wife to give them a few minutes.
He’s already had long day, he thinks. He deserves a rest
 
Chapter End Notes
     I'm going to start posting the links to the series chapters in
     chronological order in Tumblr next week, if anyone interested.
***** A Voice Within Me Keeps Repeating *****
                         Gray_City,_Utopia_April_1967
 
Charles wakes up to the drawn curtains of his bed. He doesn’t know what day or
time it is. He feels like he was sent to time out by the Great Patriarch. He
was pushed down, kept somewhere dark and quiet. Even the wraiths that torment
him in the Astral Plane couldn’t reach him. His body feels weak, heavy, and
sluggish. There is a peek of light coming in from the left side of the bed.  
He sits up to close it but something snaps at his hand.
He falls back as the muzzle of a big brown dog peaks at him. The dog barks and
another head joins it.
Charles calls out, “Help… I think someone’s dog is loose. Help!” He’s not
afraid, he tells himself. He’s just cautious. He’s not a dog reader, after all.
The curtains on the right are pulled back and the dogs disappear. He hears them
run around the bed, their paws clacking against the wood floor. He looks up at
his intruder and the invasive dogs. Logan looks unchanged. He’s chewing a cigar
and wearing a torn leather jacket. In the light, Charles can see the dogs are
both a breed he’s never seen before. His knowledge of dogs is limited, but
learning first thing in the morning or rather just after waking from purgatory,
is not on his to-do list. He rather find out what’s going on. He is about to
ask when both of the dogs bark at him.
Logan blows a puff of smoke at them, “Heel mutts.”
They obediently sit at his feet as Charles stares wide-eyed at them all.
“You’re back.”
Logan sits heavily on the bed. “Well, home is where you left your lighter,
Chuck.” He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out his silver lighter. “I
don’t leave treasure like this just lying around.” He snaps it open and close
before shoving it in his coat’s breast pocket. “Don’t I get a welcome home kiss
or something?”
Charles feels a mix of volatile emotions erupt at once. None of which make him
feel like kissing the man. Instead he throws his pillow. Logan sits through the
mild attack. The lighter dog barks and darker one growls.
Charles pretends not to flinch when they bare their teeth. “What are they
exactly? Labradors?”
Logan lets out a whistle and both dogs jump up onto the bed. The black and
brown one isn’t shy about climbing over and laying halfway across Charles’s
legs. Logan pets the brown one on the head as she thumps her long tail on the
pillows. “These are Doberman pinschers. That’s Night and this good girl is
Day.” He pats the dog on the stomach. “Raven I found them in a lab when we were
looking for you.”
The dog that is happily grinning up at Charles from his legs, barks. Charles
smiles at her, “Those are mine, thank you.” He pulls away, but she just follows
and plops down on his lap. “I always thought Dobermans had tall pointy ears and
short tails… I mean they did in the army.”
Logan growls, “Fuck that.” He pulls out his cigar to wave it in Charles’s face.
“Some asshat breeding dogs decided to cut their ears and tails to make them
‘serviceable’. People still do it even when they don’t have to, just for the
fucking aesthetic.” He chomps down on his cigar again. Charles knows the
smoking like Logan’s security blanket. The man seems very upset about all this.
“We found these two before they were cut up. But they were already being
injected with all kind of shit. We took them back to New York to get them
checked out. McCoy said their DNA had been altered.”
“Mutant dogs?” Charles looks at the innocent canines. They hardly deserved that
kind of abuse. He feels the name of their tormentor before Logan says anything.
“Another of Trask’s labs.”
The man grunts in the affirmative.
Charles feels ready to get out of bed. He already has long list of things to
do. But first, there’s the Great Patriarch to deal with. “How long was I out
this time? What day is it?”
Logan shrugs. “It’s the 28th of April. You were out for over a week. N’Dare had
a big kerfuffle with the Great Sugar Daddy on live TV. That’s why I chuffed
back early.” He leans over and purses his lips, waiting for kiss hello. When
Charles gives him nothing he snorts and pulls away. “Fine, bitch at me about
it.”
The dog whines from Charles’s lap.
“Not you.”
Charles throws up his blankets and gets out of the bed from the left. He goes
to the bathroom and a glance at the mirror shows about a week’s worth of
stubble. He scrubs at his face before running a bath. Night and Day come in and
Logan follows after.
The other man sits on the toilet lid and watches as Charles moves around. “Slow
down, Chuck. We need to talk.”
“Talk about what,” he asks. “About you abandoning me and running off to god
knows where. And that!” He points to where now both dogs sitting just inside
the doorway. “Why are you out there playing with animals when my whole life is
falling apart?!” He feels he’s on the verge breaking down. His last memory is
of being with Erik. Laying under him. About to let the madman fuck him. Charles
chokes on his shame and falls to his knees.
Logan stays the dogs with a gesture and joins Charles on the floor. He doesn’t
say anything, but Charles feels his mind. The man has left himself open to
Charles. “Look,” he projects. “Look for yourself Charles, okay. Take it.”
It echoes Erik last words to him too much. He shakes his head, “No I can’t yet.
Please just tell me. What was so important you had to leave me here?” He looks
up with watery eyes and the other man’s face caves in.
Logan reaches out to pull him in for a hug. He gently rubs circles in his back
and rocks them back and forth while the younger man cries in his shoulder. He
doesn’t stop as he explains himself. “I don’t like him, Chuck. That other guy…
he’s not you. He’s not what I remember about you.” His eyebrows furrow in
frustration. “I can’t explain it. You are different with this thing in you,
Charles.” He holds the telepath’s head up. “And it breaks my heart to see the
changes he makes in you.”
Charles yanks away and scowls at the man. “What changes? Nothing has changed.
I’m still weak. I’m still vulnerable. I still fail at everything! Lucas is
dead…” he bows his head and Logan pulls him forward again. “I couldn’t save
him. I couldn’t save Moira. I lose everyone. Even my poor darling boy.”
“And then I left…”
Charles lets out whine, “Yes.”
Logan strokes his big hands through Charles’s hair. “I’m sorry, Chuck. I didn’t
mean to just check out on you. I’m here now, okay? I’m not leaving again.” He
promises with a watery smile. “I can’t promise you’ll never lose anyone again
‘cause that’s life, Charles. But I can promise to be there for you.”
He stays on the floor until Charles is ready to face the world.
 
An hour later he stands at Charles’s side in the Great Hall. The dogs look
imposing enough, even with floppy ears and tails wagging. Logan prattles on
about animal mutilation and even pulls aside a camera to rant to some reporter.
Charles sits on the throne, quieting people who all rush him with questions. A
handful splintering off to address Logan about the dogs. Charles tires of the
media circus. Most just want to know what happened with N’Dare. He repeatedly
tells them nothing is wrong and she’ll return soon.
He learned from the rest of the others that morning that N’Dare refused The
Great Patriarch’s request to bring her daughter to Utopia. They argued until
the earth goddess stormed away from The Great Hall. After all the death and
mayhem of the Wakening, Utopia’s population fell. But since N’dare has been
present, a flood of both mutant and human immigrants from North and West Africa
has started to replenish them. Charles would hate to see her followers leave
with her, if she decides to return home.
A Libyan reporter moves to the front. He clutches his camera and bows before
addressing Charles. “Thank you, for seeing us here in your home Host Xavier.”
The young man is nervous. Charles can see him sweating beneath his collar.
“This is not my home,” he corrects. “This is the seat of power for The First
One. I am happy to share this space with his sons and daughters.”
“I am not his son,” corrects the young man with a guarded smile. “I am merely
human.”
Charles stands up to approach the young reporter. “There is no such thing as
merely human. You are all remarkable. And you, sir, are exceptional. The Great
Patriarch and I both believe that.” He gives the young man a big smile.
The young man preens under the attention. “Thank you Host. That is a most
generous thing to say.” He smiles brightly at Charles.   “You won’t remember me
but I met you when the Mama N’Dare led a convoy after the siege in Tunisia. I
was only fourteen at the time.”
Charles laughs, “Of course I remember you Aaron Ibrahim.” He steps off the
throne’s dais to hug the young man. He pulls away to kiss the young man on the
forehead. “You,” he says pointing a finger, “kept taking my camera. You had a
good eye, even then. I’m glad to see you using your talent for good, now.”
The other reporters all laugh and the young man pulls Charles closer. “My
grandfather still talks about you. He says, what happened that drunken white
boy? He was such a terrible dancer!” He laughs, “You left quite the impression
on my family.”
A tall woman with blue braids in her hair yells out, “Don’t say he does good
work, Host! I have it on good authority that he uses his powers for evil,
especially if there’s free beer involved!” The crowd of photographers and
journalists laugh, still snapping away photos and rolling camera film.
Charles laughs, “He wasn’t a naughty kid, but already a very dedicated
photojournalist.” His eyes are brimming with tears, one sliding slowing down
his cheeks while the cameras flash not two feet away from them. “I wish I still
had the pictures. They were very precious to me.” Charles shares his happiness
in looking at the photos with his family, not the discovery of them with Erik
smugly sitting with him. “My wife was especially fond of the one of me brushing
my teeth.”
The young man wipes his eyes. “Thank you for that sir, I’m glad I could do that
for you.”
They hug again and the crowd ‘ahhhs’ while crushing in to take the perfect shot
of the moment.
Charles figures it’s enough to take their minds off of N’Dare. Besides he’d
like a chance to catch up with the young man.
Aaron pats Charles on the back while they embrace and Logan beats the cameras
back. As everyone settle down again, Charles tries to address the media, but
Aaron interrupts him.
“Excuse me, sir. If you would allow one question for my paper?” He smiles, and
his open inquisitive nature is still a beautiful thing to behold, Charles
thinks. So he nods.
“How long are you going to hold the Mama N’Dare prisoner?” His face is suddenly
stern and serious, the boy from the campaign entirely erased from his features.
“Are you silently calling for tribute from the nations you wish to attack in
her absence? How long before another war starts under the Great Patriarch?” He
looks Charles in the eye, his expression angry now.
Charles is shocked to hear any of this. Camera flash bulbs explode nearby
despite Logan. The dogs bark at reporters trying to get closer. Charles just
stands there agape. “I have… that’s not what is going on,” he stutters.
“What are the tributes?” Aaron is the only one still near him. He’s unafraid of
Logan’s claws and the barking dogs, determined to have his answers. “Answer me!
Why was N’Dare taken this morning to Fort Ironclad? You have her imprisoned
with former Shaw supporters and dissenters of your monarchy.”
“This is not a monarchy,” Charles says automatically. “There will be elections.
We will step down from power.” He has said this many times over the last year.
Other reporters start to speak over Aaron, asking questions they are prohibited
from in their Palace contracts. Charles feels lost and retreats to the throne.
“No…” he says under his breath. “What have you done?”
Lila and some other guards join Logan. They forcefully kick the crowd of
journalists out of the Great Hall. Aaron walks out with his back to the crowd,
still focusing on Charles. He calls out of the crowd. “I remember when you were
a good man, Xavier. You can be that person again. Renounce the False God of the
Apocalypse!”
Logan and Lila follow the mob of media professionals as they’re ushered out of
the Palace.
Charles sits alone in the Great Hall apart from Night and Day who circle the
throne in a protective fashion.
 
Charles turns inwards. He closes his eyes and focuses on finding his other
advisors. Tessa told him this morning that the issue was settled. Warren and
Vincent brushed off his initial worry, both pushing their own agendas to the
forefront of the meeting. One would think they would say something about the
arrest of a fellow councilman.
“TESSA!”
“Calm down, Charles. I’m in the library,” he can feel her smirking physically.
“How goes the inquisition?”
“Why is N’Dare under Ironclad?”
He feels a cloudy fog descend on her mind. She doesn’t answer him, and their
connection is broken forcibly.
Charles grunts in frustration. He stands up from the throne, hardly paying any
attention to the dogs trailing behind him. He marches through the hall and
towards the main ballroom. There he finds Vincent playing the piano. The other
man is dressed up in tuxedo. He asked this morning if he could host a group of
mutant entertainers. He’s been pushing for the arts as a healthy diversion for
all the people displaced by the Wakening. One of the last reports sent in from
Darwin and Havok was that the shelters where filling up with alcohol and drug
addicts. Charles has been happy to see Vincent focus on meeting a real need for
the people.
But now, he’s angry to see the man playing at the keyboard. Vincent looks up
and grins. “Charlie-o! Hope you got a nice suit. I was thinking we could
improvise a song and dance number at the end…”
Charles storms over and grabs the man by his lapels. “Don’t! Why you all
blocking me out!” He shakes the former Host. “What the hell is going on,
Vincent.”
The man takes the attack with a blank face. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about, Charles. You talk to Big Papa about this?”
Charles backs away. He’s screams out in frustration. He feels Warren flying
around just outside, so he bursts through the doors and yells up at the man.
Warren quickly falls to earth, landing in front of Charles with a smile on his
face. Charles feels the pain in his head thrumming with renewed gusto. He
suspects he was in more than just time-out. He’s being punished. Or casts aside
by the Great Patriarch. He never meant to lose favor with his protector. He’s
not even sure of what his initial reasoning was for tracking Erik down. But he
feels so much shame for doing so, he knows everything that happens now is his
punishment.
Warren ducks down to kiss him on the cheek, “You’re even more lovely all
blushed.” He’s been trying to woo Charles again. The telepath doesn’t have time
to deal with the man’s dick.
“Can you feel me?” He rolls his eyes, “I mean. I’m trying to reach out to all
of you, but you’re not answering. I know where you are and how you feel, but
you’re not answering!”
The man offers his arm like a gentleman, and Charles refuses. He stands his
ground ignoring the way Warren eyes the lawn. The man tells him, “We should
take a walk. You’d feel better.” He offers his arm again, this time with his
face set seriously.
Charles stands there and crosses his arms. “I’d feel better if I knew what was
going on.” He narrows his eyes at the winged man. “And why are you the only one
who knows anything?”
Warren mimics his defensive posture, “Because that’s how you wanted it. Or
rather the other you. The Great Patriarch would prefer it if you didn’t
interfere with his plans. He knows you adore that woman, but she’s been arguing
for dissolvent of centralized power in Utopia. She’s becoming dangerous,
Charles.”
“So you all had her buried under real criminals?!”
“Hardly.” Warren looks away, “Tessa and Vince tried to reach middle ground, but
The First One knew better. Letting N’Dare do as she please now is a slippery
slope Charles. She’s practically worshipped in North Africa. They call her
daughter, a four year child, a goddess. She is a threat to our legitimacy not
only Utopia, but the world.” He looks Charles in the eye and smiles. “I agreed
with The First One that she should be sent away for the time. Just until things
have quiet down. She’ll return when she’s… easier to manage.”
Charles can’t believe what he’s hearing. The Great Patriarch is undermining him
and hurting his friends. “And you agree with all this, so he left your mind
alone.”
Warren spreads his wings, steps away from Charles. Before he takes off he says,
“I left my father and his company to be with you Charles. I’m on your side. But
this is what’s best for everyone.” He flies away and Charles curses his form as
he disappears over the Palace.
He heads back to his rooms and slams the door. He sits on the floor and crosses
his legs before projecting himself.
Falling into the Astral Plane, he sees the great, mysterious shadow.
He’s had enough of that, he thinks.
“Show yourself, you giant shit!”
The shadow slowly dissolves like falling gray ash around him. Charles is left
in the mist but he can feel the presence of The First One still there. He’s
almost afraid to turn around, knowing how the great being feels about
disrespect. But Charles feels violated. He wants to lash at the thing that’s
failed him this time.
He steels himself and turns around. The body of Brian Xavier stands there, but
Charles refuses to find comfort in it this time. “How could you do this to
N’Dare? She is one the purest souls I’ve ever met, and you treat her like an
enemy. She didn’t make us ask for ‘tribute’. You did. She didn’t order the
curfew, she didn’t shake the world apart. That was you and me.” He points a
finger at himself, “I killed all those innocent people trying to bring you into
the world. Chasing my own revenge. That is why I promised to step down from
power. You promised to help me make a better world out of the ashes, but we
both agreed!” He steps forward to the being in the eye. “We agreed to step
down. Tell me you didn’t lie to me. That you’re not just using me,” he voice
breaks as he continues. “Are you Father? Tell me!”
En Saber Nur sighs and looks at him with all the force an omnipotent being can
put into being disappointed. “Oh my little Star.” He holds his out his hand,
“My little Jewel. My Chosen One.” He smiles sadly and Charles accepts his hand.
He falls into the man’s chest and sobs on his shoulder. The Great Patriarch
runs his fingers through Charles’s hair. “It was not my intention to harm you.
But what is done, was for the greater good.”
Charles lets the thing holds him, but he’s still angry. He looks him in the
eye. “Please. I gave you everything I am to protect my family, and you
promised…” His eyes fill up with new tears, “You promised everything would be
fine.”
He keeps his head on the man’s chest, listening to a strong heartbeat. It lulls
him, as the strong hands keeps him close. He doesn’t object to the feel of
those hands on him as he dozes off.
He wakes up back in the real world with the Night and Day hovering over him.
Logan looks down at him from over the bed. “Chuck are you alright?”
Charles smiles and stretches slowly. He forgets why he was so upset in the
first place, but he’s had a pleasant dream. He smiles at the man and playfully
kicks out a foot. “Why are you still wearing clothes,” he grins up at Logan’s
frowning face.
The larger man sits down, turns Charles’s head from side to side. His grip
tickles behind Charles’s ears and the younger man laughs. Logan’s frown only
deepens. “I found you on the floor an hour ago, Charles. You were bleeding out
your ears. Hank wants to get you to the hospital.”
Charles hears him, but he doesn’t hear him. “Hospital?” He tries to sit up but
a heavy hand pushes him back down.
“Charles,” he frowns, “I sent Lila to Ironclad. N’Dare was found dead in her
cell.”
Charles hears him, but he doesn’t hear him.
 
***** And Torment Won't Be Through *****
Chapter Notes
     Erik's POV
                            Athens,_Greece_May_1967
 
Two weeks ago, Max Xorn invited his ‘benefactor’ to the factory city. He spoke
to the masses about all the legitimate work Warren had promised them. Warren
Worthington, Jr was happy to play along. Some random idiot asked after
Callisto’s whereabouts but Magda told the crowd that she had already moved
forward, to their new home. Shelter above ground where they could be fed and
clothed. They could live in a real commune that was self-reliant. Just like the
city they built.
Callisto’s crowd of followers numbered in the thousands, but on that day there
was a crowd of eight hundred. They peacefully agreed to join their leader in
the commune. Some stayed behind to pass the word around to other Morlocks.
Two weeks ago Max Xorn faithfully fulfilled his contract with Worthington
industries.
Today he and wife stand on a sandy Aegean beach. He’s wearing only a pair of
shorts and wide brim hat. She’s barefoot in a loose, flowing shift dress.
Together they watch a ship sail away with nearly five hundred collared mutant
passengers. A part of him is disgusted with himself for compromising his belief
in Mutant superiority, but it’s for the greater good. In the end he’ll free the
ones still useful and explain that Warren betrayed him and his wife as well. He
knows that the gullible saps that freely walked on board a slave ship will
believe him again.
Once the ship disappears on the horizon they turn back to their Villa. It’s
almost time for breakfast and Erik knows how much Shiro likes French toast.
He’s planning to make some and feed the boy before sending him on his next
assignment for the Brotherhood. He’ll have to fly back to Kiev and give Destiny
a message, but she probably already knows what he wants.
When they enter the villa Magda kisses him and pads off to their bedroom to
take a shower. He sets to work on his task, eager to get his day rolling. He
expects to find Shiro already in the kitchen.
He’s shocked to see Charles there instead.
The young man stands over a stove, humming quietly to himself as he stirs a
pot. Erik smiles at the sight. Charles used to make them breakfast like this in
Prague. He suspects the younger man fed him after the letting the cat eat at
the counter but that doesn’t matter. What matters is Charles or something
possessing Charles is here now.
He clears his throat expecting some reaction. The telepath fetches a bowl and
spoons out cooked oatmeal. He serves it to the table and patiently waits for
Erik to take a seat. So he does. Before eating, he greets his cook. “This is a
surprise.”
Charles smiles, “I’m certain it is.” It’s his own voice, his own sweet face.
But Erik knows it’s not Charles. The false god continues, “I see that betraying
your own kind is fine so long as you profit from it, Magneto. I can’t say I
like seeing this weakness in you.”
Erik doesn’t miss a beat before he responds, “I’m sorry to hear about the Earth
Goddess. I understand she was close to Charles.”
The creature inhabiting the younger man bares its teeth and Erik pretends to be
unafraid. “This is not the first time I’ve attracted a Host with so many
suitors.” He moves to stand behind Erik’s chair, “All others wish to distract
him from his true purpose.” He leans down to whisper in Erik’s ear. “I am a
jealous god.”
Erik leans away from the voice and the eerie feeling of the world being not
right.
The god laughs at him and stands up straight. He then sits across from Erik and
grins. “This form has quite the effect on you. You’re all red.”
“And you’re a liar,” Erik volleys. “You’re lying to Utopia about your real
purpose. You’re lying to Charles. And I know from personal experience that he
hates being lied to. Despite being the consummate actor himself. Tell me, is my
beloved aware that we’re speaking like this?” He’s half hoping the man is but
he knows better. Charles is nowhere near any of this.
“Beloved?” The creature tilts Charles’s head like a bird. “You really are
delusional.” He laughs again Erik feels his blood boiling with hate but he’s in
no position to do anything.
Erik looks to living room from across the open bar in the kitchen, “My wife is
just in the shower. Could you speed this up? I’d hate to upset her with your
holy presence.”
Charles leans in smiling again with all those sharp teeth, “Your wife, now? You
could have a widow.”
Chills run Erik’s spine, “You’d kill me now? Why? I haven’t even led you to the
Akkabas yet.”
“Ah!” The god backs away, “So you do agree. I was starting to wonder. Well, not
really. I have locked down the Host’s ability to reach you. You’ll never feel
him brushing against your mind again. But I will still follow you, Magneto. You
can take comfort in knowing you are never alone.”
The god vanishes before his eyes and Erik is left with a turning stomach. He
stands up and runs to the sink. He vomits whatever was left from his dinner
last night and slides down to the floor. Magda eventually returns from the
bedroom wrapped in her bathrobe. She looks at him on the floor. “Why,” she
starts but stops to shake her head. “Never mind. Look at this.” She hands him a
piece of paper. She backs away from him covering her nose.
Erik recognizes Shiro’s graceful, calligraphic style. It reads:
Dear Sir,
I am grateful for the time we’ve had together. I am sorry for leaving this
morning without saying goodbye. I want you to know how important you and Ms.
Magda are to me.
But I believe the The First One has a purpose for me in this new world. I hope
to make you proud.
Forever yours,
Shiro Yoshida
 
Erik balls the paper up and laughs. “He came to take the boy?!”
Magda stands there looking at him quizzically, “I don’t understand. Where’s
Shiro? Does this have something to do Worthington?” She kneels down to look him
the eye before a greedy smile spreads on her face. “How much did we get for
him?”
Erik slaps her across the face. She cries out in surprise as he sits up to grab
a handful of her hair. He drags her up and pushes her to the bedroom. “Go get
dressed. Wear something that old man would like. You’re the one entertaining
him tonight.”
She looks at him with wide eyes as he shuts the door.
Erik goes back to the kitchen and picks up the phone. He usually wouldn’t do
something so easy to trace, but he has no choice now without his powers. And it
serves his purpose anyway. He dials his contact quickly and someone answers
after the second ring.
He searches for his pack of cigarettes and finds nothing. He scowls before
speaking, “Starsmore?”
“Lehnsherr? This better be important.”
Erik gets up to walk around the bar still searching for his cigarettes.
“Nothing really. Just your decrepit old ancestor sneaking around in the body of
my fiancé. I’m a little put out, to be honest.”
“I thought you were married?”
“Shut up,” he says angry to be reminded of how far the sham has gone. “He wants
me to lead him to you. He’s probably listening in right now…”
“And you called!”
“Well he’s a telepath not a computer. He can’t trace the call.”
“You imbecile, the First One can manipulate technology as well! You’ve led him
straight to me!”
“Oh,” Erik sighs. “Sorry, I suppose. You’re probably overdo for a little family
reunion. Try not to sound so scared.”
“He’s not interested in having us all over Easter dinner, you asshole!”
“No?” Erik looks in cabinet with the plates and smiles in triumph. His lighter
and cigarettes are there for some reason. “Listen, it’s been nice chatting with
you but I have to go.”
“Erik! I will see you burn for this asshole! That girl, that boy, all of them!
I’ll…”
The line cuts off Erik doesn’t hear the rest of it. He sighs again, finding his
lighter is out of fluid.
He spends the rest of day with Magda and Mr. Worthington. They discovered he
was a lecherous old man back in Tel Aviv. He’s just not interested in Erik’s
ass. Instead the old man smiles and paws at Magda and Callisto while they sit
outside the pool. The gray-haired pervert told the women it was pool party.
Neither of the girls can swim.
Erik is fine with sitting shirtless on a lounge chair. He can safely assume
that he’s given up one of the lower houses of Akkaba to the false god. Perhaps
it will sate his appetite for now and the being won’t make any more
appearances. He smiles to himself hoping there’s a reward in his future. Maybe
some alone time with Charles…
“Stop!” He hears a loud smack from across the pool.
Erik opens an eye in time to see Warren trying his best to control Callisto.
But she’s stronger than the old man and could still win a fight with him hand
to hand. Erik rolls his eyes and reaches for a remote by his leg. With press of
button the woman’s body seizes and she sits back down.
Without his powers, the collars Erik helped manufacture are clunky and
unattractive. They mar the woman’s overall appearance. Her tattoos and scars
are plentiful and her skin is dark olive, her long black hair is pinned up. She
looks like a model for Andy Warhol, completely other yet unmistakably
beautiful. But the collar clashes with the whole thing. And where she fills out
her tiny white bikini, Magda looks quite drab. She looks like a waifish young
girl, wearing her brown bikini like a broomstick. He’s almost embarrassed to
have brought her along.
His wife shies away from the old man’s touch and looks to Erik with her big sad
eyes. He scoffs at her and closes his eyes again. He’s working on a new tan. He
hates how pale he’s gotten living underground for so long.
He leaves Magda for a ‘sleepover’ and goes home to the rented villa. Warren
spared no expense making sure Max Xorn was comfortable on the beach. It’s a
shame, he thinks as he gets ready bed, that he has the place to himself yet no
one to entertain him. The false god made sure of that when he absconded with
his boy.
Erik lies in the clean sheets of his large bed. Finally, he thinks to himself.
He’s back where he belongs. Not out on the street. Not in an alleyway or
shelter. He didn’t have to kill anyone to get to this point. He’s playing both
sides of the board and he intends to topple all the pieces. He feels the false
god brush his mind for his nightly inspection. Erik makes sure to think of the
lewdest thing he’s ever done with Charles’s body. He likes to think it keeps
the being away.
However, he feels a pinch in his head tonight.
“Unworthy.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he says to the air.
“Shall I cleanse you of your evil thoughts, Magneto? How best to erase these
filthy impulses? Perhaps a view from the other side?”
Erik laughs at the voice in his head, “I’ve been fucked before, your highness.
I’m not a fragile little flower when it comes to sex. I can take it.” He almost
dares the being to appear. Excitement thrums under his skin, thinking Charles
could finally take him. He cock is getting hard, for the moment he doesn’t care
whose driving Charles’s body.
“You are pitiful. Baseness and weakness follows the hungry. You’ve been hungry
all your life haven’t you boy?”
Erik lays back and takes his cock in his hand, starts pumping to the voice in
his head. “That’s right,” he laughs. “Now tell me I’m naughty.” He’s not sure
where the bravado to tease a god comes from, but he keeps going, “Why don’t you
come here and teach me a lesson? I’m sure Charles has always wanted to.”
“No, Charles is repulsed by you in every way.”
One sentence and his cock starts flagging. Erik sits up to growl at the air,
“You’re just jealous! What he and I had was transcended! Even your possession
can’t be as intimate as we were together. We know each other’s souls. You are
just a parasite!”   He’s screaming to an empty room and doesn’t care. “Leave
him and let him come home to me, where he belongs! You have no right to keep us
apart!”
“Even your Father knew better, Erik. The man that took a girl from her
recital…”
“Shut. Up.”
“You remember the truth don’t you, Erik? What your Father did? The little
crystal girl showed you a long time ago. Did you think it was false memory?
Here, I’ll help you recall it.”
“No…” Erik tries to get out bed, but an invisible forces knocks him back down.
He feels pin to the spot. His eyes close and he’s no longer in own bed.
He opens them to the face of a little girl. He recognizes his mother’s eyes in
the mirror. No, he thinks. This was a prank, a joke on Emma’s part. Years ago
because they hated each other, they tried to hurt each other with their
talents. She gave him this memory. It’s not real, he tells himself. It’s not
real.
Edie smiles at her reflection. He knows this is shortly after her thirteenth
birthday. She’s small for her age, but she’s already been praised for her
talent as pianist. Some people call her Krakow’s Mozart. She’s going to perform
tonight at the Fine Arts Academy for a showing of artwork by the students and
professors. She’s especially excited because Leon Wyczółkowski has promised to
paint her portrait. Her grandmother has taken special care with hair, setting
her natural curls up in a very grown up bun. Her father and her mysterious
patron bought her a new dress and she’s so happy to be dressed in real silk
like a real woman.
Her grandmother kisses her on the head after she finishes her hair. She starts
to leave but her father tuts at her appearance from the doorway. “She can’t go
out like that, Mama! Rouge, powder, she must be a fine lady tonight before the
count arrives. We’ll show him you are ready for an international debut!”
She smiles and sits back down but her grandmother curses about men in sheep’s
clothing. She didn’t like the foreign count at the edge of town. And she made
sure everyone knew. But little Edie is full of hope for her future.
The rest of evening goes by in a blur. She plays for the artists and the
patrons while they walk the galleries. She sits for a photo with Leon who makes
a date for her first portrait sitting. She stays for almost two hours, playing
requested pieces and sometimes having ‘precious’ conversations with the adults.
Her papa tells her they all like how smart she is, but they still think of her
as child. It’s the patron, he says she really has to impress. The man in
question arrives late to the party.
Erik fights the memory he sees his Father, looking even younger. He’s dressed
like royalty and arrives with a large entourage. He makes a bee-line for little
Edie at the piano. He flatters her for her gift even though he hasn’t heard her
play tonight. She offers her hand and he kisses it before talking over her head
to other adults.
Edie was angry to be ignored by her patron. She knew it was a show for the
artists but it was her night. She started playing, a little rudely to get their
attention back. She had it, and the man called Schmidt stayed with her at the
bench. By midnight, the party started breaking up. Edie’s father had exchanged
pleasantries with all the rich aristocrats and politicians and artists. He
offered her services to some of them and exchanged contacts. It was all very
boring, but before everyone could leave, Schmidt made an announcement.
He got down on one knee and presented a velvet box to Edie. The people started
whispering and gossiping eying the girl and her father. A collective sigh of
relief was uttered when Schmidt opened the box, revealing a pair of diamond
earrings. “To honor our future enterprises, young lady. You are astonishing,”
he say before looking her father. “This little Princess was born to play piano.
I’m sure we are all thankful for the gift you shared with us tonight.” He takes
her hand and kisses it before standing up to shake her father’s hand.
The crowd applauds Edie and her father pats his child on the back, proud of
her.
They leave the Academy as the others do, heading for their little family wagon
when Schmidt calls them to his own covered carriage.
“Please allow me to escort you two home, Fredric. It’s the least I could do.
Janos! Take the man’s horse and cart back to his home. They’ll ride with me.”
A young Janos, no older eight or nine hops down from the top of the carriage by
the groom.
Edie enjoys most of ride, even though her Papa and Schmidt are talking about
the war again. She looks out the window and watches the moon instead. She’s
shocked to feel the head of her father slump over. “Papa!” She looks to her
patron for help, “What’s wrong with him! Did he have a heart attack!”
The man leans over and listens to her papa’s heart. He backs away with a smile
on his face, “I think he’s just sleeping my dear. Perhaps he had too much to
drink.”
She slumps in her seat. “Thank goodness. Grandma will give him such earful when
we get home.”
“Well,” he smiles as pushes her Papa over to his own seat. He takes his place
and sits by Edie. “Maybe we could save him the embarrassment. My house isn’t
far. We can stay there tonight and in the morning, I’ll give you another
present.” He reaches in his pocket. “Chocolate, my dear?”
Erik shakes and shakes in the bed, trying to wake himself up. He knows how this
goes. He buried the memories of his mother’s screaming in his head after Emma
first showed him. He knew at the time she was capable of planting suggestions
and false memories. She gave him this particular nightmare to sow doubt in his
head. He hated her for it so much that when it came to her own night of
screaming under Shaw in her new rooms, he played Mozart as loud as possible
throughout the Hellfire club.
He opens his eyes and sees that hours have gone by. He’s a sweating mess in the
center of the bed. Erik sits up, desperately wanting a cool drink of water.
He goes back into the kitchen and is surprised to see Charles at the table.
“Hello again, Magneto.” The man’s skin is almost gray, his eyes red, and lips
darker than before. “Are you ready to make yourself worthy in my eyes?”
Erik goes to the sink and drinks straight from the faucet. He drinks and drinks
until he can’t breathe. When rises from the sink he slumps against the counter.
“What do I have to do now, oh great and powerful, Oz.”
The not-Charles raises an eyebrow and considers him a long moment, as if he
didn’t already have something in mind. Finally he stops and scrutinizes Erik.
“I want you to assassinate someone. Publicly. As brutally as possible.”
Erik laughs, “Are you going to give me a nice sniper rifle, hm?” He stands up
straight and raises his hands, “I’m not going to attack anyone just to get
caught. I don’t trust you to bail me out. Charles will have me killed if he
sees me doing anything like that. Or will you hide it from him like you did
with the Morlocks?”
The false god comes forward, and it feels like he’s taking up all the air
around Erik. Erik chokes as the crackle of something in the air steals his
breathe away. He doesn’t have time to wonder about it as Charles’s head gets
closer and suddenly kisses him on the lips.
Erik nearly blacks out as pain shoots through his skull and down his spine. It
feels as if every nerve in his body was set aflame. He backs away the being as
the feeling escalates. He sees red behind his eyes before really does pass out.
When he wakes up again, he’s on the floor of the kitchen. The first thing he
sees, is the kitchen sink. It’s warped and melted, like a Dali painting. In the
palm of his hand is a small bronze coin with a set of scales drawn in the
center.
***** Yuletide *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                         London,_England_December_1952
The house is a complete mess.
Charles feels bad about the extra work the men and women working for his family
will have to do. He helps out around the grounds and makes Raven and Hank clear
up around the kitchen.
When Sharon Xavier says, “Everyone is invited,” everyone comes. And they bring
friends. And friends of friends. This was the biggest Christmas party he’s ever
seen in Graymalkin. He was hardly expecting it. There were clowns for god’s
sake. By the end of the night, Sharon had probably had an entire acrobat troupe
in her bed, Raven was planning to run away with the circus, and one of the
butlers had been stabbed in the shoulder. It was an accident of course, but
even that didn’t damper the party.
Charles concentrates on cleaning up outside. He’s fishing debris out of the
pool, struggling with what appears to be a garter belt wrapped around a melon.
He stops to go find a longer pole from the shed. He’s more than little
surprised when he turns and bumps into his stepbrother.
Cain has filled out over the years. He’s been deployed with the Allied Forces
and Freed Europe for the last five years. Charles’s lips curl up as he takes in
the behemoth and the various muscles on top of muscles. “Cain,” he says
finally. “You haven’t missed any meals.”
The man laughs and slaps Charles on the back. It’s hard enough to knock all the
air out of the smaller man. “Merry Christmas, squirt.” He manhandles Charles
until the sixteen year old is upright again. “Cut that shit out. Before you get
me in trouble again.”
He starts to walk away and that makes Charles nervous. “Wait! The house is
mess.”
“Fuck if I care. I’m going to bed.” Cain ignores him and keeps on toward the
manor.
Charles wrings his hand. He options are few, he thinks. He can let this man in
his home or he can stop him now. He is the master of the house with Kurt gone.
Whatever guilt Sharon has about Cain’s upbringing can’t stop Charles from
throwing the brute out.
He puts his hands down, then screams, “You are not welcomed in this house,
Marko!” He throws whatever influence he can at his stepbrother. Cain stops, and
turns to Charles with a miserable look on his face.
“Still messing around in people’s head? My dad didn’t deserve the shit you put
on our family. You fell down some stupid stairs and split up the whole family!”
He starts heading for Charles again, but stops just a breath away.
Charles has to concentrate to keep ahold of his stepbrother. He backs away a
safe distance. “I was pushed, you Neanderthal. You and your father nearly
killed me! Neither of you are welcomed around my family. State your business,
Cain. Then leave.”
Cain growls at him, fighting his hold but staying put. “Don’t think you can
keep me like this, Charlie. One good punch and BAM!” He grins, “You’re down. Do
you want to keep me angry all day are you going to let me go see my sister?”
“She’s my sister and she doesn’t want to see you!” Charles remember how his
little sister held him in the hospital after stairs incident. She disowned the
Markos and swore to protect Charles. He imagines her coming outside now,
throwing her tiny body between her brothers and being pummeled by Cain’s fist.
The thought sets Charles’s teeth on edge. He screams, “No one wants you here!”
Cain’s goes very still. Instead of talking back, he gasps and gurgles.   Red
streaks break out in his eyes as they roll back and the heavy body of Cain
Marko falls to the grass.
Charles stares at his stepbrother in shock. “Get up.”
Cain doesn’t move.
The sun is shining, the sky is blue and it’s a perfectly beautiful day. Charles
looks around with his arms wrapped around his body. He says again, with command
in his voice, “GET UP!”
“Charles!”
The telepath hears his mother voice and wants to hide. So he does. He hides
himself and the body not ten feet away. He keeps them both from perception
until Sharon walks away. Hank comes outside after her, asking for Charles.
Charles pushes to his friend, “Hank… I’ve done something. I need your help.”
His friend is used to having Charles piggyback in his mind. He simply nods and
tells Sharon that Charles probably took a car into town for cleaning supplies.
Sharon agrees. Charles can feel her hangover thrumming in her skull. She’s
planning to go to bed and stay there until all this daylight business is over
with. Charles stays hidden while Hank, blessedly tall and long limbed picks up
the pole from where he left it.
“What’s wrong,” says Hank.
Charles sniffles and turns his back on the body. “It was accident. I don’t know
what to do. I didn’t mean to, Hank. I swear it!” Charles may dabble in idle
mischief with his powers but he’d never hurt anyone. At least he always thought
that. He didn’t think he was strong enough to do anything. But here his
stepbrother is bleeding out, his mind gone. Charles is scared. How could he do
something like this, how could he be capable of doing something like this?
Questions and guilt batter his mind but Hank grounds him to reality.
“Whatever it is, Charles. No one knows and no one needs to know. It can be just
between you and me. Like that girl in Amsterdam.” He smirks.
Charles makes himself visible and runs to his friend. He sobs on Hank’s
shoulder. The other boy is two years younger but nearly a head taller already.
He’s a good height, Charles thinks. Not like him. Guilty, murderous runt that
he is. He so caught up in his own misery he doesn’t see the old man in the yard
until it’s too late.
The old man sees him, and looks straight at Cain’s body on the ground. Charles
is baffled because he’s still hiding Cain.
He moves away from Hank and the other boy seems frozen in the spot.
The old man walks over to Charles, drawing out a pencil and yellow notepad. He
hums to himself before saying, “Subject is overstimulated.”
A snap of flash and smoke appears. Charles gapes as a living devil inspects
Cain’s body. “Oh my god,” he says to himself, “I’m going to hell!” Some nascent
catholic belief has him terrified that he is seeing the real devil about to
drag his stepbrother’s corpse off to hell.
The old man laughs before approaching Charles. “Our Charles is certainly a
treasure. Now, if you would,” he extends his hand to Charles. Charles feels
like this is all familiar and strange. For a moment he thinks he’s still in
bed, maybe thrashing to a nightmare. But the old man sighs at and Charles
thinks it would be rude not accept. A pair of devils in his yard, and he
refuses them courtesy? Sharon would be appalled. So he hesitantly extends his
hand.
As soon as the older man grips him, he falls to the ground. From this angle he
can see Cain’s dog tags sticking out from under his body. He squints at the
sight for a second before his eyelids feel all too heavy.
 
When he next opens his eyes there’s too much light. Too much sound. Too much
everything. He shuts his eyes to block out the strong light, but there’s
nothing he can do about the noise or the aches in his body.
“Please,” he says hoarsely. “It hurts.”
“I’m sorry,” says a strange voice. The noise in room dims down, the light
fades. Charles cracks his eyes and winces to the sight of his own reflection.
He’s strapped down. Or up rather. He’s suspended at angle, several feet above a
strange solution. The floor below him opens up into a pool of red and purple
water.
“No! Help!” He cries out. He’s not afraid of the water, but he is terrified of
the situation in general. Especially the part where he’s naked, as he
distinctly remembers dressing this morning. He tries to reach for someone with
his powers but no one answers. He feels closed off in his mind. His vision
clears and he sees the old man from earlier and a young_man_with_white_hair and
an curious look on his face. The room is large and filled with machinery and
tools. The pool dominates the center of it. The young man moves to a table to
fill a syringe.
“Don’t touch that,” says the old man. He chastens the young man who looks up at
Charles with queer expression on his face. When Charles doesn’t say anything
the young man frowns.   Charles glares at both of them but before he can demand
answers the old man notices him. “Subject is recovering! A dip will do!” He
belly laughs and slaps the other man on the shoulder, “In a pinch they say!”
“You’re not funny,” says the sour faced young man with white hair. Charles
feels like he’s heard that voice before. The man who apologized for the lights
is moving around, dimming things and checking Charles for discomfort.   He
comes closer and looks Charles in the eye, a soft smile curling his thin mouth.
“It’s all right,” he explains. “Just a bath to help you recover. Were you upset
about something?”
Charles starts to confess. Surely, he thinks, this is some kind hell. Being
interrogated by lovely strangers while old men laugh at him. Wasn’t there a
devil, he wonders. Wasn’t he going to hell for his crimes? This must be it, he
thinks. Where men who commit step-fratricide are sent, he thinks. All this
thinking is not helping, he thinks finally. He settles for speaking.
“Am I dead?”
The lovely man smiles gently at him, “Hardly. You’re just dreaming, Charles.”
Charles looks down at the liquid below. It’s started to bubble and Charles
flinches, “I’m having a nightmare about baths?”
The man laughs and reaches up with his hand. He brushes his fingers lightly
across Charles lips down his chin. “Would you like another dip, Charles?”
The stranger’s eyes dart from Charles’s mouth to his eyes. Ah, thinks Charles,
apparently still thinking about things. This man thinks Charles is pretty. He
can work with that if he’s in hell. Maybe the telepath can charm all the devils
here. Perhaps rise up on Jacob’s ladder from the bowls of hell to the softest,
fluffiest heaven. That would be wonderful. And completely unreal. Charles then
reasons he may be drugged or impaired now. But why would the Satan need him
doped?
“There’s no need to be frightened, you were asleep and we had to be sure you
wouldn’t drown. I’ve been in there recently, it’s perfectly alright.” The young
man runs a hand through his hair, “If a bit bleaching.”
“Little Red,” says the old man with a warning in his voice. “That’s enough of
you interacting with the subject. We have three hours left before the other one
proceeds with the wiping. I no longer require your assistance, you’re free to
go.”
Charles is confused by everything they’re saying. His head aches but the young
man seems less frightening than the old one. “My head hurts,” he explains.
“Could you let me down from here, please? I have to go home. My mother would
worry,” he lies unsure if Sharon is aware he’s not home.
The man considers him with an eager expression before looking back at the old
man. “I can go in with him, sir. Just a little while. The snow queen is going
to erase everything later.”
“Snow queen?” Charles frowns, “I don’t understand… is there going to be Turkish
delight or something?”
The man with the nice smile backs away before addressing the old man, “Why
doesn’t he ever remember? I’m on television all the time now. He should have
seen me… he should know me.” The old man is about to argue but Charles has had
enough of being a spectator.
“I want to go home! Now!” He looks between the two men. “I don’t care who you
are or what you’re doing. I did something horrible and I have to… I have to
tell someone.” He starts crying. “I killed my stepbrother. I didn’t mean to,
but I did and now I’m in hell or something.”
“Honestly Charles,” says the nice, young man. He bops Charles on the nose with
a finger. “I thought you were an academic. Hell? You think this room is what
Hell looks like?” He moves to a table and presses several buttons before
pulling a lever.
Charles revises his earlier hysterical notions. He is not in hell. He is in the
secret laboratory of a mad scientist and some kind television actor. Superman
is going to save him. Though, given his most recent crime, he was probably left
in the clutches of these shady characters. He’s surprised when the slab he’s
strapped to moves. It hovers over the solid ground and evens out to stand him
straight. His feet touch the floor and he’s suddenly annoyed that the young man
is actually quite tall. The man gestures with his hand, like he’s conducting a
symphony. The straps that held him down open and leave him in a graceful arcs.
He starts to sink to the floor but the man catches him.
“Are you an angel?” he asks. The man is very handsome and fair. Charles is not
above exploiting an advantage. The man stares at his face before helping
Charles to stand.
“You still think that?” The man stands there, holding him and staring at
Charles. Charles endures the man petting him, softly running fingers through
his hair.
The old man clears his throat and rushes over to separate them. “Enough of that
Red, go find your little sister and bring her back.” He looks at Charles with a
smile, “It’s time for some tea, young man.”
Charles stands there, feeling cold without the larger man holding him. He wraps
his arms around himself and notices he’s still nude. “Where are my clothes?”
The old man shucks off his own lab coat and holds it out to Charles. Charles
takes it quickly and wraps it tight around his body. The old man stands back
and points to an exam table, “If you would join me here, please. That’s a good
boy.”
Charles shakes his head, “No. I want to go home. Where are we? What happened to
Cain? I killed… I killed my stepbrother and I have to…”
The old man laughs. “You don’t need to concern yourself. He’s with the Nazi
bastard. Everything is fine. Your control slipped a little. I call it a growth
spurt. I’m quite happy with it, actually.” He gives Charles a warm smile, “You
are such a wonder, my little monkey.”
The old man walks ahead to the table, expecting Charles to follow him. Charles
stays put, “I’m not a damn monkey! I want to know what’s going on! Who the hell
are you?! Why am I here?!”
The old man stops smiling to look down at his himself and pat his pockets, “Do
you mind, I left my notes in the coat. Be a dear, and hand them to me.”
Charles frowns but feels in the pockets of the coat. There is indeed a yellow
notebook and pencil in one. He looks at the man before opening the notebook.
The first page is a drawing of a mountains. Then several sketches of caves and
weird architecture. Charles looks up at the old man, “Are you an artist?” He
flips the page and finds writing he doesn’t understand. Pages and pages of it.
And halfway in, there’s a sketch of a small child.
“Project is going according to plan, if a bit slow,” says the old man. “You
won’t remember this, but I want you to know how proud I am.”
Charles feels frustrated, “I don’t even know your name. Why the fuck should I
care if you’re proud of me!”
“Language,” chides the old man. “You have it in you to be more evolved,
Charles. You mustn’t let fear drive you to acting like an animal. Even when you
face incredible odds. Be the better man, Charles.”
The old man gives up on trying to get Charles to the table.
Instead he comes back and holds out his hand, “My notes, please.”
Charles offers them but the old man quickly reaches out and takes him by the
hand. Charles falls to his knees, his vision darkens and the old man standing
over him grabs him by the shoulders. Charles can’t speak or move but the old
man is smiling at him.
The last thing he sees is the angel man returning to the room with a young
woman.
 
Charles wakes up to the smell of grass.
Opening his eyes he sees the world is dark. The moon is out and he’s under
trees. He sits up to take in his surroundings and he recognizes this bit of
forest. It’s the land just outside of Graymalkin. He and Raven play hide and
seek here.
He tries to stand up and finds it odd that his body is sore. He feels like he’s
survived falling down a mountain. There are sores and scrapes all over his arms
and legs. The wind changes and the smell of decay overwhelms his senses. God,
he thinks, someone must have killed a bear or stag. Curiosity leads him to the
end of the treeline.
There in the open field between the forest and the property, lies a body. He
starts walking towards it when he notices something glinting in the moonlight.
He leans down and picks up a pair of dog tags.
A feeling of dread sinks in his gut. Charles looks back out at the body, “…no.”
The tags read, “Marko. Cain.”
Charles can’t recall how he got out here, but he knows with every fiber of his
being that the body up ahead is his brother and that he killed him. Charles’s
eyes well up with tears and he tries to think of a way around this.
When he finally comes up with a solution he limps back to the house and goes to
his room, unnoticed by everyone.
The next morning he hears screaming and crying downstairs. A brief glance at
the minds of his maids and grounds men confirms that Cain was discovered.
Charles turns on his side in the bed and waits.
Sharon and Hank come into the room. There’s two maids behind them trying to
quiet Raven as she cries and kicks at her nanny. Sharon moves to Charles’s
bedside, her eyes red as she tells him the news. “Your brother’s dead. Mr.
Grants found him outside this morning. He didn’t even make it home.” She sobs,
and leans on Charles.
He projects an illusion for Sharon and Hank. They see boy who’s just lost
family, crying on his mother’s shoulder.
Not the murderer covered in bruises, clutching a stolen chain.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry for the long wait I was distracted.
     [really distracted]
***** Dog House *****
                           Gray_City,_Utopia_May_1967
                                        
Logan covered for Charles for almost two days.
Outside the Gray Palace there was riot and outrage. People calling the Great
Patriarch a tyrant and a liar. Logan didn’t let Charles slip back into the
Astral Plane. Hank has been hovering over him since Logan ordered his condition
to stay secret. The burly man guarded Charles’s rooms, only allowing Tessa,
Vincent and Lila to see Charles.
Warren was growled at by Night and Day, so he decided not push his luck.
Charles was slow to recover but after those first two days his memory came
back.
With everything he’s been through with Erik and Shaw’s regime, the telepath has
been violated time and time again. But the betrayal he felt when Logan
explained for tenth time that his friend was dead, left Charles mute and cold.
The first few days after he came back to senses were hard.   He didn’t sleep,
fearing The First One would possess him. He didn’t eat or drink. He sat in the
middle of his too-large bed and stared at nothing.
Charles had believed. He had faith. He wanted to do the right thing with his
whole heart and now, he fears he was wrong. Something cracks in him after the
first week. Tessa came to tell him The Earth Goddess was taken home, her
funeral was being televised. She helped him up to his den, where Logan mounted
the largest TV he could find months ago.
Charles sat down on the floor and looked up at the screen. Tessa and Logan sat
nearby to watch as well.
They watched a little white-haired girl who cried as it rained on her mother’s
grave. Charles then made up his mind. He would fix the fractured nation on his
own. The Great Patriarch was no longer welcomed in Utopia.
The pain in his skull erupted like a fire but Charles resisted the power of The
First One.
“How dare you defy me, child.”
“How dare you,” he says aloud while Tessa looked on in horror. “How dare you
betray me like this?”
“You think I would kill the ‘Mother’? You think I would benefit from having
someone so strong fall from this world.”
Tessa heard the First One’s voice as well and held on to Charles. She told
Logan to go fetch Vincent.
“Why should I believe you now? You tried to hurt me! You pressed me down, and
you stole from me. I can’t forgive that, En Saber Nur. I can’t let you use me
again.” He sobbed but Tessa was there, rocking with him on the floor. He felt
her reaching out with her powers to hold him up against The First One’s
strength.
But The First One sunk away, “I would never hurt you. You are my Chosen. I
would sooner destroy my own self, before I harmed you. Believe me, child.”
“I am not a child!”
Logan and Vincent entered just as The Great Patriarch was leaving. Charles was
surprised to feel love and affection pushed through their link.
They weathered the few days of media speculation and public protest outside the
palace. Darwin and Alex helmed an official investigation that they were keeping
under wraps.
 
Until today, as one of Lila’s guards was assaulted by a group of almost a
hundred men. The woman tried not to hurt them, but fearing for her life she
used her ability to breathe fire. She killed several men while the others ran
away screaming. Her name is Wyvern and she was one of the girls Shaw pushed on
Erik years ago.
Charles has seen her memories of being treated like a novelty toy. She has deep
purple skin and scales on her forearms and shins. Erik delighted in her
mutation but tossed her aside when he ran out of ways to test her fireproof
skin. Even though she explained she felt pain from his experiments, she
appeared unmarred so he thought nothing of it. Charles has come across a
handful of other women within Lila’s service with similar memories. He keeps
them close, feeling a kinship with fellow victims of Erik’s twisted attention.
But not so close. They are an everyday reminder of the trauma he faced before
and while he shares their pain, they would never understand his own shame.
However, Wyvern’s attack must be addressed publically, so that means having her
near now.
Wyvern and Logan stand behind him now in the Great Hall. A select few reporters
including Aaron Ibrahim wait for them to start. Charles has had the throne
removed and stands at a simple podium.
“Thank you for coming today,” he begins. “I know you have many questions but
first I’d like to say few words about my friend. N’Dare was a beacon of hope. A
healer, a leader, and a mother. She was easily the most important figure for
world justice and peace I have ever met. Losing her is…”
“How can you stand there and tell us this,” Aaron stands up from his seat in
the front row. “How can you eulogize someone you had a hand in murdering?!”
The other reporters stand up as well. Some of them shouting and calling Charles
a murderer while others dedicate themselves to recording the spectacle.
Charles has always been a fine actor. Appearing weak now would not help his
position as a world leader. Appearing unemotional would make him look guilty.
Charles stands up straighter and looks over the crowd, he projects his own
grief until they settle down. He’s learned from The First One that the common
rabble often need a gentle hand, embracing them with love is better than
letting them think he’s the enemy.
He comes from behind the podium, “I did not kill my friend.” He tells them all,
but he’s looking at Aaron. “I did not kill the woman who blessed my injuries,
who gave me council. The godmother of my son… a champion of peace. I did not
kill N’Dare.” He scans their minds. They are not completely swayed. Most of
them believe he had nothing personal against her, but they think the new regime
in Utopia did. He holds his hand out for Wyvern to join him.
“This woman is a guard with the Gray Palace security. She was coming into work
today when she was attacked. The people outside these walls are angry, and they
have every right to be so. But she did not deserve their vitriol. The twelve
men who died as she tried to defend herself, did not deserve to die either.
This is all product of misdirection and miscommunication. My detractors would
have you believe that this is tyranny. That the Great Patriarch plans to drive
the world into chaos while he takes absolute power.”
Charles motions to behind the podium.
“The throne is gone. The seat of power is retired. The only governance here is
to help guide the world to a better state in the future. Elections will be
organized in the coming months. I will not run for office. I will stay on board
as an advisor until the government is transitioned and solidified. This has
always been our intention, as N’Dare knew well. I had hoped…” he looks away to
wipe a stray tear from his eye, “That she would consider running for office
herself.”
The cameras explode and Aaron steps forward before Logan raises a hand to stop
him from coming nearer. He looks between Charles and Logan with confusion
written on his face, “What are you saying Xavier? You were going to make Mama
the President of Utopia.”
Charles shakes his head, “A nominee yes, but it would have been up to the
citizens. After an intense investigation…” he looks to Logan hoping the man
won’t challenge his decision in public, “We have come to the conclusion that
she was secreted to Fort Ironclad by traitors, murdered by a foreign influence.
No one within Utopia has anything to gain from her death.” The crowd murmurs
and speculate so he has to be clearer, “We believe this was an act of
assassination by the Allied Forces of Freed Europe and North America. We demand
that representatives come forward immediately to address this. Including
N’Dare’s own cousin, General Adina Arlington.”
He steps back as the crowd goes frantic, asking question and taking pictures.
Charles retreats behind the podium again, “Until that time, there will be a new
curfew in Utopia. Movement is restricted to official citizens. Please
understand this is only temporary as the Palace investigates the situation
further. We will not tolerate the machinations of men and women who
deliberately set fire to the world. We will not tolerate another war in Europe
or anywhere else. We will put a stop this immediately, for all our sakes. That
is all.”
He turns away and briskly leaves the hall with Wyvern in tow. Logan and few of
the guards usher the reporters out of the palace.
Wyvern is on his arm sobbing while he leads her to the sitting room where the
council often meets.
He sits her down near Vincent and moves over to bar. Charles is surprised to
find his mother behind it already, reaching in a mini fridge. She comes up with
some fruit and a soda water. He can tell she’s still sober, and has started
making virgin cocktails to ease her mind.
He kisses her on the cheek as she smiles sadly at him and sits down, determined
to stay out of the way.
Warren clears his throat to start the meeting. “I think we can all agree this
going badly.”
Vincent has a hand on Wyvern’s shoulder, pushing back her uniform to inspect
her injuries. They had thrown rocks and cans at her while she walked to work.
She wasn’t really harmed until they started pushing her and throwing bricks.
Her shoulder is bruised and bloody. There must not have been time to get her
medical attention.
Vincent tuts over the woman as he treats her, “I don’t know why you care. You
were in on it! En Saber Nur set all of us up. And you played along while we
were being manipulated.”
Vincent is rarely so coherent. Everyone listens as he turns his full attention
to Warren. “You are not a real councilman. We didn’t ask you to be here, he
did. Only to use you against Charles. I know how the monster works. I spent
years with him whispering in my ear while I was frozen. I was harvested and
milked like a fucking cow while he promised to make things better for me. It
was lie. He is always a lie!”
He huffs before turning back to the woman and Charles and Tessa share a look
over his head. Tessa reaches out gently, “You never speak of your time as Host,
Vincent. We all thought you were sleeping because of Essex’s virus. Was that
not the case?”
Charles walks over and kneels in front of the man, drawing his attention, “Tell
us. What do you remember Vincent.”
“Bullshit,” interrupts Warren. “He’s a babbling loon half the time. He doesn’t
remember. Now The First One spoke to me personally, he gave me a token to show
his favor! I am a real member of this council!”
Vincent stands up and almost knocks Charles over. “You are snake in grass!
You’re hoping to get a piece of Charles’s ass at the end of the day, but he’s
still not that into cocks, you fucking bird!”
Warren’s wings spread out in a burst and he takes off in the small space. He
hovers over Vincent and Charles, “He deserves better than you two invalids!”
“Invalids!” Screams Tessa as she stands up beside Vincent.
Charles moves between all three of them. He raises his hand and shushes
everyone until they stop snarling and snapping at each other. Warren settles on
the ground and Charles speaks to him first. “I believed in him, too. But the
purpose of this council isn’t to raise me up, Warren.” He looks Tessa in the
eye. “It’s to keep me grounded.”
Her eyebrows knit as she nods and whispers, “Memento Mori.”
Vincent looks between them and grins, “It works! You’re alive again!”
Charles gives each of his friends a pat on the shoulder. “Adina will be here in
few hours.” He turns back to Warren, “I want you to escort her and the other
officials to the Great Hall. I’m going to rest while I can. We have a long day
ahead of us, Warren. We can’t afford to be fighting each other. There’s too
much at stake, you understand?”
The man nods weakly before leaving the room.
Charles leaves as but not before hearing Sharon input. “Wear the blue suit,
baby. It brings out those eyes I gave you. I’ll send Ambrose up to dress you.”
Charles rolls his eyes. He despises Ambrose. The man or woman is a malevolent
mutant fashion diva determined to keep Charles poked with sewing needles. The
worst part is the man or woman switches pronouns and Charles never knows, even
with telepathy what to call him or her. Also she or he is terribly attractive
and completely distracting when she or he isn’t insulting Charles’s taste in
clothes or calling Sharon the only class in the family. Ambrose worships Mrs.
Xavier.
 
He makes it back to his room to find Night and Day up on the bed. “No!” He
shouts, “You two are starting to shed. Down, now.”
They always seem to understand whatever he says. They’re quick to get down,
though they whine as they leave the room altogether. Charles flops down on the
floor beside the bed. He toes off his shoes and before rubbing his temples. His
head is thumping from what Hank called elevated pressure. More blood going to
his brain to accommodate hosting another presence. Even though The Great
Patriarch is quiet, he’s hardly gone. Charles still feels like his standing in
the other’s shadow. He eyes his nightstand where Hank left several pain
bottles. Hank is hardly privy to all the drugs he’s was subjected to in Berlin.
Charles does have some favorites now. He sits up and finds a bottle with little
white and yellow pills. Side-effects include drowsiness, dizziness and dry
mouth. He pops two in his mouth and swallows them dry before laying on the bed.
“You are still starting a war, Chuck.”
Charles doesn’t move. He listens as the Canadian lumberjack moves around the
room. “Come to bed and rub my neck, darling. I have an awful headache.”
Logan laughs before he sits on the bed. All the weight of the metal in his body
makes him heavier. “You know I want to see Stryker pay for what he did to me
and the other mutants. If you sister hadn’t gotten me back out in time, I
wouldn’t be here. I owe her. I owe you. But I’m not a soldier anymore, Charles.
I’m not sticking around to fight in The Old Moldy One’s war.” He leans over and
uses his broad hands to deeply rub into the smaller man’s shoulder. “Fuck, you
are tense.”
Charles barks out a laugh, “Well at least you’re here.” He stretches out, then
turns over to give the man access to his back. “At least I don’t have to pay
for this service.”
Logan moves around behind him, taking off his shoes before climbing on the bed
and straddling Charles’s legs. “Service with a smile, Chuck.”
Charles moans as the man’s hands dip under his shirt collar. They knead the
skin and muscle perfectly. Charles feels a hundred times better already. The
pain in his head easing as his blood redirects. “Oh that’s good timing.”
“Hm,” says the older man. He lifts up and pulls the back of Charles’s shirt up.
“How ‘bout that lower back? We need to get you get naked. Maybe some oil.
Candles. The whole shebang. Hell, I oughta charge ya.”
Charles grins into his pillow then sits up on his elbows. He looks back at the
other man, “I have about one hour before Ambrose storms in here with the
pincushion of doom. Do you think we could do something else to help me relax?”
He tries to sit up when he gets an idea.
He lays back on stomach and closes his eyes.
Logan moves around behind, getting undressed and digging through the
nightstand. He returns with a flop on the bed and slaps Charles on the legs.
“Hey, come on. No sleeping on the job, bub. This particular activity is going
to require you to wear less and move more.”
Charles sighs softly and turns his head, “Or.”
“Or what?” Logan leans over him, “Or you just going to lie there and think of
England?”
Charles smiles before biting his lip and going still again. “Or you can wake me
up like a princess in a fairy tale. Undress me and kiss me awake. Go on.”
“That’s not my kind of kinky, Chuck.” He slaps Charles hard on the ass, “But
I’ll try anything once. Okay Sleeping Beauty?” He doesn’t question Charles’s
motives, he just does as he was told. He starts by flipping Charles over.
Charles tries to maintain a straight face as the other pokes and prods at him.
He lets out a laugh as a thick finger pokes him in the ribs.
“Stop it,” he giggles. “I’m supposed to be sleeping!”
“Well,” says Logan before poking him again, “I’m just making sure. I guess
you’re fairest in the land, huh bub. Slim picking around here, I guess.”
Charles slaps the other man on the shoulder before laughing out loud again.
“Stop!”
“Don’t blame me for the commentary. People say all kind shit when they think
you’re sleeping. Besides, unconscious princesses shouldn’t hit so hard.” He
pinches Charles but even that tickles enough to send the man into a laughing
fit.
Charles closes his eyes tight, “I am not a princess!”
“Talking in your sleep is a turn off,” says Logan. He opens Charles’s shirt and
pulls the man up as he gets it off. He drops Charles on the bed with a bounce
and the younger laughs and wiggles again. “Might be snorer.” He undoes
Charles’s belt and tosses it to the side before unbuttoning his slacks and
pulling them off with a yank.
Charles is left in his briefs with his arms over his head. He licks and bites
at his mouth in anticipation but Logan doesn’t do more than knead the skin over
his hips. The big capable hands move up to his sides and chest. It feels so
good, Charles almost nods off for real. He almost shocked to feel the scrape of
stubble on his chest as the other man licks and bites at him. The talented
hands move down to play with waistband of his underwear before pulling them
off. Then all the touching stops and Charles is left alone.
Charles cracks open an eye to see Logan kneeling over, pumping his thick cock
in his hand. Charles gasps at the sight and tries to sit up, suddenly desperate
to get the thing in his mouth.
Logan pushes him back down. “I thought you were sleeping, Aurora?”
Charles lays down but can’t close his eyes again. He spreads his own legs
waiting for the man to do anything at this point, “Who’s Aurora?”
Logan rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop preparing himself. He pours some of
their oil on his fingers before leaning down on one arm. He finds Charles’s
hole with muscle memory and gently pumps one finger in and out. He adds another
when Charles closes his eyes. Then another when the younger man turns his head,
exposing his neck.
The larger man leans up to bite at his neck as twists and scissors three thick
fingers inside of Charles. They haven’t been intimate since Charles woke up.
They’ve had so many problems in the last few months, and Logan is nothing like
Erik. He doesn’t take what isn’t freely given. He’s patient and careful,
especially with their size different. He doesn’t like bruising Charles. He
waits and waits for the younger man to want him first. Now he bites and sucks
careful to avoid anywhere that will show later.
He pulls his fingers out and deftly cleans them on the bed before kissing
Charles on the chin, then the cheek. He avoids his mouth as spreads the younger
man’s legs further and lines their bodies together.
Charles tries to stay still, but he’s writhing at this point. “Please. Wake me
up, Logan. Please.”
The older man leans in capture his mouth in a deep kiss. Charles moans into
before raises his hand to Logan’s head. He wraps his legs around the broader
man urging him forward.
When Logan finally enters him and starts to move, Charles cries out and closes
his eyes. He moves his hips to meet the man’s thrust, before kicking him with
his heels. “Come on, Logan. I’m not made out of glass. Come on,” he says
breathlessly.
The older man chuckles before biting down on his shoulder. “Alright you little
minx. You get what you asked for.”
Charles smiles up at him, “And you always deliver.”
They laugh before Logan changes his pace and his angle. He drives into Charles
again and again. The younger man can’t help closing his eyes. He never can when
he’s really into it. He cries out and scratches at Logan’s back as they both
finish quickly. The heavier man is mindful of crushing Charles and moves over
to the side, spooning him instead.
Charles hums to himself while Logan nips and kisses at his neck.
Neither of them are thinking about the procession of diplomats marching towards
the Gray Palace.
Charles feels a strange and distant satisfaction in the back of his thoughts
and chalks it up to being well fucked.
***** The Bent Bullet *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                          Gray_City,_Utopia_May_1967
                                        
The Host of The First One tried not to doze but didn’t succeed.
He wakes up with a start when all the curtains are pulled back, exposing his
bed to noonday light. Ambrose stands over him with a look of disgust plastered
on his or her face. “Honey, no. I really didn’t know he was such a bear. How am
I going to get you decent when you look like you were scraped with Brillo
pads!”
Charles takes in his naked appearance. At first he thinks it’s not so bad. Then
he realizes he’s very naked. “Ambrose!” He screams he covers himself with what
appears to be Logan’s hand. “Get out!”
Logan barely stirs behind him. He peeks at the spectacle for a moment, and once
he’s sure no one is in danger, he rolls over. Leaving Charles exposed again.
Ambrose waves his or her hands at them and retreats to the other room. “I’m
going to set up for your fitting. You have twenty minutes, Professor!”
Charles is about to get up when the flamboyant mutant returns, “And don’t
forget! We’re doing hair and makeup today so say goodbye to all that peach fuzz
and that dust mop you pretend is a haircut. I’m doing Raven first, so you have
time to scrub thoroughly. Don’t make me come in there!” He or she waves a
finger before slamming the doors shut.
Charles stands up on sore legs, his thighs burning and a definite ache in
backside. Logan, the bastard, smiles as he hobbles away. “Don’t blame me when
she comes back insisting you use an enema!”
Charles stops, “I don’t… She? Is Ambrose a woman?”
Logan raises an eyebrow. “You can’t tell?” He sniffs the air rather rudely,
Charles thinks. “She’s a shapeshifter, like Raven. But she can only do two
human bodies and animals. I can usually smell the difference in pheromones.
Today, Ambrose is definitely a she.” He leans over and pulls a light and cigar.
“She’s a little turned on at moment.” He starts smoking in the bed, completely
unconcerned with his own nudity.
 
The hour between his lunchtime fitting and the official meeting with the
diplomats fly by. Charles passes Ambrose’s inspection and is given a gray suit.
Before the creative fashionista lets him go, she insists that he gets a
haircut.
“I had long hair this morning, on camera. Shouldn’t I leave it alone until
later?” Even though he protest, he submits to her draping him with cloth
covered in rubber duck print. Her name is written in shiny beading on the
front.
Ambrose clucks at the telepath and pushes him onto stool. Charles is surprised
when a pair of scissors appear in front of his face. His hair hacked away with
efficiency. Ambrose stands away to squint at him from one eye, then the other.
She gives Charles a big smile before patting herself on the back. “I’m so good
at this.” She disappears in flurry, leaving him alone.
Logan comes out of the bedroom. At least he’s half-dressed before he gets back
to his post, thinks Charles. The man whistles. “Sharp. You almost look your
age, Xavier.”
Charlesgoes to a mirror to check and nods along. “It’s the not the worst
haircut I’ve ever had.”
Logan chuckles, “You mean like when you mommy puts a bowl over your head?”
Charles’s face drops. There are some serious, and unfortunate memories of that
exact thing happening to him for almost a decade. He looks the burly man in the
eye and says, “Shut. Up.”
Logan laughs at his childhood trauma so Charles gives up waiting on the man.
 
He seeks out Raven who should already be in the Great Hall. Instead he finds a
large crowd of diplomats being settled in improvised seating. Charles stands to
the side, unseen for the moment.
Warren ushers General Arlington to the front row, bows and leaves her and her
assistants there. Beside her is a few other Generals from the Allied Forces.
Two from Freed Europe and one American. The American is General Chester
Phillips, the man who recruited Steve Rogers for the American super soldier
program. He’s also the man who had the good judgement to shut the program down
after Rogers came out virtually perfect.
Charles scans them all for any thoughts of betrayal. They are all suspicious of
The Great Patriarch’s motives. Chester is on high alert. He’s brought along
armed guards and almost dares Charles to say anything about the invisible
mutant sniper he has waiting in the wings.
Charles draws the man’s attention and points up to the balcony where his guard
is posted. “There’s no need for so much precaution, General Phillips.”The old
man looks up in time to see his ‘invisible’ guard appear to pass out. “He’s
alright, but that’s hardly the way to start our talks.”
The man only huffs and crosses his arms.
Arlington’s eyes glow red as she waits. Charles can hear thunder in the
distance. He’s never seen the full force of her mutation, but knows like her
cousin she can heal people and manipulate nature. She sits on the edge of her
seat, ready to defend herself. Being named in the death of N’Dare has unsettled
her and she intends to clear her name while putting Captain Xavier back in his
place.
Charles notes that General Stryker is late. It’s not a secret that he’s been
investigating the man and the head of Trask Industries for their crimes against
mutants worldwide. They were both called here before the press conference and
he knows they are in Utopia.
He blankets the city with his powers, but stretching so far hurts while he’s
still actively trying to block the Great Patriarch’s link. He focuses on his
allies instead. “Tessa,” he projects, “Any sign of Stryker or Trask?”
“I feel one of their drivers. They rounding up to the front of the Palace now.
Darwin and Havok are out there to check them for security.”
Charles frowns, “I can’t extend my powers very far…”
“I know. But I can’t feel either of them. They must be blocking telepathy.”
Charles makes a fist punches the wall, growling. “Those two fucking criminals.”
“Charles.”
“I know,” he collects himself. “I’m going out there. I’ll check them both
myself.”
 
He marches away from the Great Hall and heads for the gates. Warren spots him
and follows. “Charles!” The winged man catches him before he’s out the door.
“Where are you going? You need to be inside.”
Charles pulls away, “I need to make sure those two bastards aren’t planning
something. I’m going to read them before we start the inquisition.” Charles
tries to leave again but the angelic man stops him. He pushes Charles up
against the large palace doors.   Charles panics about being groped in public
and lashes out, “What’s wrong with you!” He knees the other man in the crotch.
Warren falls away but he’s hardly hurt. “Charles you need to stay inside!”
Charles ignores him as he opens the door, determined to see Trask and Stryker
for himself.
He sees Trask getting out of the back of his car. Darwin leans down to frisk
the man before moving onto to Stryker who’s already standing to the side. The
men all begin walking to the Palace entrance, flanked by guards with Darwin and
Alex leading the way. Charles means to intercept them but Warren yanks on his
hand and pulls him back.
“Charles,” the man says just before a gunshot rings out.
Two more shots echoes in the air and Charles stares at the expansive courtyard.
He pulls away from Warren to look around, “Who did that! Where are the shots
coming from?!”
Darwin and Alex run over to him, covering his head and pushing him down. Darwin
draws a gun and looks to the roof, “Up there! I heard it come from up there!”
The crowd around Trask and Stryker have raced for cover. They all rush inside
the Palace’s grand foyer. Charles tries getting back outside to scan for the
threat but Darwin pushes him to the ground, holding his head, “Charles you were
shot!”
Alex checks his head and corrects his boyfriend, “No he’s just grazed.”
Charles doesn’t feel any pain and barely acknowledges the tacky feel of blood
running down his face. “We have to get back out there and find out who did
this!”
Alex applies pressure to his wound. His good eye surveys the room, “Someone
with them was hit! Hey what’s going on over there?”
Charles gets up to see to the crowd. People are pouring into the room from all
over the Palace. Hank rushes in with his medical team. The crowd separates
enough for Charles to make out the small body of Bolivar Trask being strapped
to a gurney. Stryker still lies on the floor, his skin gray and half his face
missing.
Charles covers his mouth. He’s not sorry for that man dying or Trask’s
injuries, but this interferes with his plans to bring them all to justice.
Worst, it will make him look all the more suspicious to the world.
This has all gotten out of control.
“Then take back control.”
“I’m not speaking to you,” he says aloud while Alex looks at him with puzzled
expression. He ignores his friend and tries to keep blocking the Great
Patriarch.
“Look around you, child. This is not something they are equipped to understand.
You have to take the situation and mold it to your own purposes. You’ve done it
before.”
“No,” says Charles still resisting.
“I can help you. Lay your burden on my shoulders, my Shining Starlight. We can
do anything together. But we must act as one, Charles. I am not your enemy.”
“I can’t do that. I won’t do that to so many innocent people!” Alex looks truly
worried now and leans away. He waves for Darwin to come back but the man has
taken Warren outside to scout for the shooter.
“We can fix this together with but a nudge in the right direction. Stay them,
Charles. If your friend saves that man’s life, we’ll be back to square one.  
Make them all quiet and still as we rearrange the chaos to fit our purpose.”
“And from the ashes,” Charles recalls some of The First One’s earliest words to
him. “We will build a better world.”
“Yes, my child. Help me ascend, truly. Stand at my side, Charles. Where you
belong.”
Charles fights with himself, indecision and suspicion war inside him. He
doesn’t think he can trust the voice in his head anymore, but what choice does
he have? If Trask and Stryker are dead, then two of his greatest detractors are
downed in his own home with plenty of witnesses to point the finger at him.
But… and there is a but. They are not the only victims. “Someone shot at me?”
“And they failed, as they may have done with the small one.”
Charles leans away from Alex. “We can use that. Someone shot at me. Someone
tried to kill us. This isn’t Utopia’s doing.”
“Exactly, child. We are under attack. We must protect ourselves. Do what must
be done.”
Charles raises his fingers to his temples, the pain in his head feels even
greater. His_eyes_burn as he concentrates on saving his position in Utopia.
Everyone in the Gray Palace freezes.
 
Charles stands up to take it all in. He walks over to where Stryker lays with
his head torn apart. There were three gun shots. Was there three different
guns, he wonders? How could one shot tear the man’s face off and another merely
scrape his head. It must have been different guns, he reasons. He steps over
the frozen bodies of Hank’s subordinates. Trasks lies still, bleeding heavily
from his throat as the people around him are unable to stop the bleeding.
Charles bites his lips before leaning down to move Hank’s hand. This wound is
small and concentrated. Blood pours over his fingers and the small tycoon goes
gray from exsanguination.
He walks calmly to the doors that lead to the Great Hall. They’re already held
open by the people that were running out to deal with the commotion. Military
officers and guards with their guns bared. Mutants ready to use their powers to
defend their Generals.
He walks right up Arlington and sifts through her mind. Her last thoughts were
of Charles. She thought he was in danger, and ran to answer with her own
strength even as her assistant tried to hold her back.
“This one is like just like all of her kin, Charles. She has a mind for justice
that is admirable. Let her believe that she is in the right, and has served her
duty.”
Charles rewrites her mind. When she wakes, she’ll remember being outside and
witnessing the attack. She’ll remember coming inside, concerned for Charles
after he fainted from his injuries.
He examines the other Generals and gives them similar memories. They will think
they saw the shooting, witnessed it firsthand as someone attempted to
assassinate the Host. He even throws in additional gunfire. They were all
targeted by the enemy. Whoever did the shooting meant to take attack all the
world powers.
Charles lays down on the floor and crosses his hands over his chest.
“Warren has apprehended the shooters. See for yourself Charles.”
Charles sees through the eyes of bystanders outside. Warren flies down from the
roof of the Palace. He’s carrying a small boy and rifle. “Shiro!” Charles
almost sits up in surprise.
The Great Patriarch sighs, “I cannot see his thoughts, Charles. He must be
guarded by that technology. We shall have to interrogate him after it’s
removed.”
Charles grits his teeth before agreeing. “He’s just a child. He wouldn’t do
something like this without Erik’s approval.”
“You think that broken man had something to do with this? I do not feel him
anywhere. You stripped him of his powers. He’s a wanted man in Utopia. He could
not come here to do this damage. But the ones who saved him, Charles. My own
faithless children, they would do this to possess me again, you know that.”
Charles opens his eyes. He forces Alex and one of the doctors attending Trask
to stand up and come to his side. They walk like zombies as they position
themselves around him. Charles lays head in Alex’s lap. He closes his eyes.
“We will wake them and let the pieces fall where they may.”
Charles worries. “Darwin and Warren aren’t edited. Darwin is hard to rewrite
and Warren…”
“No child,” corrects the Great Patriarch. “I will take care of it. Sleep, and
wake up when this is over.”
 
Charles wakes up in hospital bed. Surrounded by a team of doctors. Raven is
speaking to Aaron Ibrahim in the doorway.
“He’s recovering. Eyewitness account from the Generals say he was shot first.
Then the entire group was fired on. Charles is lucky Darwin was there. If not
for his quick reflexes, my brother would have been much like General Stryker.”
Aaron nods while looking into the room. He sees Charles is awake and motions
with his pen. “May I speak to him?”
Raven turns to see her brother up and smiles at him. “No. We’ll release an
official statement through the council later. Tessa and Vincent are preparing a
statement for broadcast in thirty minutes. Thank you for being so patient.” She
reaches out to shake his hand and he takes it.
“I’m sorry for doubting his intentions. The man I remembered from my childhood
was a like a big brother. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.” He
pulls her in for a hug, “And I’m sorry for bringing so much ire to your
doorstep so soon after you lost.”
Charles feels like his heart has climbed up to his throat. He doesn’t say
anything as Aaron leaves and Raven comes to his side. She tells the doctors to
clear out as she sits by her brother.
Charles lets a few tears fall down his face, “I remember when Cain died,” he
says. “I remember thinking before that all I wanted was to see him dead and
then after he was gone, I cried.”
Raven wipes the tears from his face and leans down to kiss him on the cheek.
“You have a big heart Charles. You’re empathetic even with the people who don’t
deserve it. I love and hate that about you. Things were getting really scary
there. What happened to the Great Oz?”
Charles smirks, “He hates when you all call him that.”
“Whatever,” she smiles and tucks his sheet up. “Why didn’t he take the reins
and put everything back in order?”
Charles feels the Cheshire cat smile of satisfaction in the back of his mind.
The pain in his head feels better. He smiles up at his beautiful sister.
“Because he respects me. He didn’t want to take over after I withdrew my
consent.” He smiles tightly as he lies, “And he would never hurt me just to
seize power. He really loves me, Raven.”
She frowns a little but pats him on the hand, “Okay. I guess that’s… fine.” She
sighs and he feels her doubting his judgement. He pushes her away to a
distraction. Raven gets up to kiss on the head again, “I’m going to check on
Alex and Darwin. Darwin must have taken a bullet for you in the head, but Hank
is sure he’ll get up soon. He’s hard to put down, our Captain Muñoz.”
“Don’t I know it?” Says Charles.
She leaves and Charles and retreats to the Astral Plane.
He stands in the shadow of the Great Patriarch but this time it shrinks and
shrinks and until they are eye to eye.
“Well done, my child.” Says the voice of his father.
Charles keeps his distance, circling the other man. “I’m not your child, En
Saber Nur. I’m your co-conspirator now. What did you do to Darwin?”
“He will recover in time.   It’s not important.”
“And Warren?” He stops just in front of the man wearing his father’s face.
“What about the Angel?”
“He tried to stop me from going outside. He knew about the attack.” Charles
crosses his arms and steps up to the Great Patriarch now that they are of
almost equal height. “Tell me what you’ve done. Make me understand how any of
this is for the betterment of the world.” He stays very calm. His want to
believe buoys him in dangerous waters. His hope keeps his faith floating but
his doubt is like a shark, waiting for something to sink. Waiting for him to be
vulnerable.
The First One is still wearing the face of Brian Xavier. He smiles at Charles
before stepping forward to kiss the young man on the head.
Charles snatches away, “I mean it. Show me your real face and tell me truth,
Father. Before I give up on all of this.”
The visage of the man before ripples until he’s left facing a strange warrior.
Tall, gray-skinned, red-eyed and dark lips. His hair is long and pulled up to
the top of his head. He smirks, with the dark lips, a peak of violet tongue
licks out before he really smiles with large sharp teeth. The face of a young
mutant from a time that didn’t understand what he was. He’s shared his
beginnings with Charles before. But this is the first time Charles has so
clearly seen him.
“En Saber Nur.” The telepath reaches out and to touch the man’s face and is
surprised to find it soft and yielding. He’s not made of stone. He’s not cold
and hard.
The Great Patriarch takes his hand, holds it between his own palms and presses
it to his naked chest. Charles feels a strong heart beating below his fingers.
“I would have you see me,” says The First One. “For what I really am, Charles
Xavier. I see you clearly. Do you want to know me, my Shining Star?”
Charles stares wide eye. He doesn’t answer but he lets the other man pull him
forward.
The First One lays another gentle kiss to top of his head, “Wake up, child.
Wake up and trust my judgement from now on.”
Charles looks up in a daze, “But...” He’s not even sure what he’s arguing for.
“But I have to think about things or I’ll get carried away. Things will get out
of hand if I do whatever want, whenever I want. I can’t just let…”
The First One surprises him with another kiss, but this time taking his mouth.
“You will be by side, Charles. Now wake up, and prepare a place for us in the
world.”
 
When Charles wakes up, he vaguely recalls being comforted by the great shadow.
He sighs, feeling guilty about all his questioning and doubt. The First One
would never hurt him, he thinks. He looks around to see he’s been moved to his
room back in the Gray Palace.   He has no idea how much time has passed.
He gets up and goes to the bathroom, absently thinking about the comfort of his
bath ritual. He happens by the large mirror and is shock to see the glass
breaking in one corner. He reaches out to touch it, and it freezes. Frost
crawls up and shatters the mirror. The bathroom itself seems to melt away and
Charles finds himself back in the grand theater. The large puppets dance on the
stage and the seats are filled with shadows.
“I don’t even know where to start with you, sugar.”
Charles looks down to see Emma in her crystalline form, wrapped in metal
piping. She doesn’t struggle in her seat but she looks up at him sadly.
“I told you it was time to remember, my little cuckoo.”
“Remember what,” he backs away from her but the shadows in the crowd turn to
him. He moves closer to her, afraid what’s in the dark and she smiles at him.
“The little red hen, Charles. You have to remember your whole story. Before he
takes it from you.”
 
Chapter End Notes
     Yes almost to the halfway mark.
***** Scoped *****
Chapter Notes
     Erik's POV
                          Gray_City,_Utopia_May_1967
 
Hiding his faceamong the people is easy. Erik went unnoticed all throughout
Utopia. Magda still hasn’t connected his face to his real name and the people
pay no attention to the man with the red beard.
After the attack they retreat to Mama’s house in a stolen car. Charles has some
kind of sign outside of it, declaring it will be made a landmark to the Gray
Lady. Erik rips the sign down before opening the gate. He smiles as he
stretches his powers around the familiar metal. He parks the car up the
driveway and marches towards the house. The man doesn’t stop to see if his wife
is behind him. Knowing her, she’s struggling to get all their things out the
car. The former General leaves her behind and marches through the broken down
house. He rebuilt most of it after the coup but never returned with Charles. It
seems it was damaged again in the destruction from the telepath waking up his
false god.
Erik climbs up the dusty staircase and goes back to what he thinks of as his
own room. The room he shared with Charles during those happy months of easy
domesticity. He looks at the unmade bed and sees the ghost of Charles lying
there, sleeping like nothing has changed.
“Max!”
The vision vanishes and Erik rolls his eyes. Magda comes up toting two bags
over her shoulder and drops them on the floor. She’s wearing a backpack with
their supplies and toting the heavy gun bag like a baby. He starts to laugh at
her efforts, but she tosses the bag near the bed.
“You could have helped me with some of this shit! You walked right pass me and
the car! You fucking…”
Erik grabs her neck and pushes her out of the room. “Language,” he says as he
stands in the doorway. “I didn’t ask you to get anything. I didn’t ask you to
come up here. These are my rooms. You can find space elsewhere.”
Her mouth frowns up at him but she doesn’t argue.
Then, with smirk on his face, Erik lifts the bags from the floor with his
powers and deposits them in the room. He watches her try to think of something
to say before shoving her by the face and closing the door.
He sighs thinking of what he’s been reduced to. He watched on the news as that
feathered minion carried away his favorite urchin. If he had known the false
god meant to deprive him of his one relief, then he would have put up more of a
fight. Or swapped Shiro for Magda.
Erik heads for the bathroom. There’s a hole in the roof and the tub looks
rusty. Water stains on the floor hint at the collapse of the house’s plumbing.
He feels through the house and easily repairs the damage. He waves a hand and
the rust on the tub falls away. He runs a bath while checking under the sink.
There he finds his old razor and a large box where Charles kept his things.
Erik sinks to floor and puts the box in his lap.
Opening it he huffs out a laugh. The first thing he sees is the doctored photo
of that human woman. He delights in the hole in her neck for moment before he
remembers Charles kept this handy to look at every day.   He crumples it one
hand and throws it to the side.
There’s a small vintage hair brush Edie gave them. Silver and engraved little
starlings, a few strands of brown hair still caught on the bristles. Erik lifts
it to his face and inhales. He’s not sure but it may still smell like Charles.
He puts it on the side of tub for safe keeping. He picks up a disposable razor,
then a razor blade.   Odd, he thinks. Charles knew there wouldn’t be another
can opener incident. Perhaps this was harmless. Then Erik smiles to himself.
Knowing Charles, it was probably a plan B. There’s an old toothbrush. A half
empty bottle of aftershave. A little tub of vanilla scented lotion. Concealer?
Erik recalls one morning where Charles refused to go down with apparent marks
high on his neck. He didn’t want to ‘flaunt’ them in front of Mama. Erik
smiles. The little box carries the everyday smells that he associates with
Charles.
Erik inhales sharply and reminds his body that he doesn’t shed tears lightly.
Certainly not over the familiar scents his beloved left behind. He closes the
box and puts it on the side of the tub. He changes his mind about the bath.
Getting up is less of a chore with his injuries healed, but he is getting
older. His knee creaks as he stands at the sink. He splashes his face with
lukewarm water and heads back to the bedroom.
He sits in the alcove Charles favored and rests his head on the cool glass.
Does Charles remember this place with any fondness, he wonders. The younger man
had adored Mama. That was apparent. His acting was saved for Erik and Shaw. But
Erik doesn’t believe the telepath worked that garden and dusted the library to
manipulate his mother. He was good boy, as Mama would say. He must have loved
her. And with that, Erik had believed he’d seen an opening. One day, he always
thought. Charles would look at Erik and see that he had all best of Edie
Lehnsherr, only he was stronger, capable, commanding. Worthy to be by Charles’s
side. He thought Charles would eventually look at him and love him too.
Instead he was shot in the gut and left bleeding. After being forced to cut off
her head…
Erik folds over on himself, feeling a phantom pain in his middle. He
straightens up long enough to talk himself down. Remind himself of his new
mission.
Already he’s closer to Charles. They’re not separated by borders anymore.
Charles is less than ten miles away. With the false god’s protection, he would
never see Erik. No one in Utopia gives him a second glance. Whatever veil he’s
wearing could easily get him into the government eyesore they call a Palace. He
could find out where Charles sleeps.
The thought puts a smile on his face. He dozes off in the window seat and later
wakes to find Magda making herself comfortable in the room.
She’s cleaning up and tucking things away, making the bed with new sheets. She
doesn’t look at him as he stares at her.
She doesn’t see him before he launches himself at her and pins her to the bed.
“I told you go find another room!” He slaps her across the face before grabbing
her hair and shaking her head. Perhaps he’ll shake some sense into the girl, he
thinks. “Why are you defying me?!”
“Max, please!” She tries to pull away, “I didn’t do anything. I thought you
were uncomfortable over there. You’re still in your suit! You should sleep in
the bed.”
He sits up long enough to give her a breath of air. Her breathing calms, so he
grabs her by the throat and shakes her again.
“MAX!”
“That,” he whispers in her ear, “Is not my name. It means nothing to me. You
mean nothing to me.”
“Max, please,” she cries. “I’m… pregnant.”
Erik lets go and stares down at her before laughing in her face. “Mazel tov!”
He laughs harder and gets off the bed. He looks back at her puzzled face. God,
he thinks. That just makes it funnier. He laughs until his sides hurt but he
opens the door and bows as if she were a princess.
She gets up, trembling on unsteady legs. Holding her arms around her middle.
When she reaches him, she raises her hands to his face, “Max. This doesn’t have
to change anything. I can still help you and the cause. We can bring down the
false god. We can save everyone. Together.” She smiles up at him and he smiles
back. Though he supposes for different reasons.
The girl wipes away her tears and looks at him expectantly with big cow eyes.
He can’t help laughing in her face again.
She backs away, “I mean it, Max. We can leave the baby with some family of
mine. We can raise it together later when the work is done. I’m not leaving
you.” She looks in his eyes and strokes back his hair.
Hatefully he bites hard on her wrist. She snatches away so he laughs again.
It’s easy to shove the thin girl out the door, though this time, he thinks he
does notice a little more weight on her hips. He looks into her eyes as he
explains, “I’ll have to get old Worthington a card. Who knew he still had it in
him.”
She gapes at him and shakes her head, “Don’t say that, Max. I’m with you! I’m
yours! He’s too…” Her voice cracks as she shakes and trembles in the hallway.
“He’s too old. It’s your baby. You can’t deny that!”
Erik merely smiles this time as he closes the door slowly. “Of course I can. I
had a vasectomy ten years ago. It doesn’t just grow back, my love.” He laughs
again and finally shuts the door.
She cries out in the hall way and that puts a bigger smile on his face. It’s
like having Emma around when they were teenagers again. Young girls are so
emotional and easy to rile.
The good laugh pulls him out of his morose mood. He settles on the bed she made
and kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat. A nap, he thinks, would do
wonders. He checks the ring of metal she wears on her finger and finds her out
in the car. He disables the engine in case she gets any ideas. Just to be sure.
 
The morning light surprises him and he has to squint as he sits up. Someone’s
pulled up the curtains and let all the light in. He scowls thinking of Magda
before he gets up and notices the light on in the next room. He groans as his
thirty-seven year old bones protest sleeping in the suit all night. He walks
towards the bathroom feeling every bit of his age.
There he finds Charles sitting on the edge of tub, looking at the worn
photograph. His hair is wet and he’s wearing only a thin red shirt.
Erik starts to speak, but chokes on his own tongue.
Charles looks up, his eyes full of knowing and red lips pulled in a smug smile
as he sits up. His neck is marked in dark red bruises. The shirt is only
buttoned at the center, just above his navel. He stretches his back and pulls
his arms up, showing off the naked skin from the waist down. There’s bite marks
on his thighs and fingerprints on his hips. His naked cock lies half hard in
his nestle of curls. Erik stops breathing from the sight of him, before he
remembers.
Realization must be written on his face because the Not Charles laughs at him.
“Oh to wake up every morning with that look on your face. We would love that.”
“Shut the hell up,” says Erik. He turns away but can’t keep his eyes off his
beloved. His Beloved, he thinks. Whoever had their hands on Charles is going to
die. Erik is going relish taking their life with as much violence as possible.
The false god settles with his hands in Charles’s hair, scrubbing the thick,
wet locks back. “We’re supposed to be in the shower. We have another few
minutes if he doesn’t come right back.”
“Who!” Demands Erik. “Who the fuck would you let touch him like that!”
The man’s head tilts to side and he stares at Erik like he heard something
ridiculous. “What right do I have to refuse? This is not my body. This is my
Host. My little beauty attracts so much attention. Who am I tell him no. When
he has such impulses and cravings… mmm.” He hums and lets his hands down,
slowly dragging down his neck before placing them in his naked lap.   “I’ve
advise him before to let the wild man go. He may be careful with the vessel,”
he looks Erik in the eye. “And very satisfying. But hardly the appropriate
image for a consort.”
Erik watches the man as he leans over to poke around in the box. The false god
pulls out the hair brush and starts brushing Charles’s hair back. “No,” Erik
objects. He reaches back and finds a towel. He holds it out meekly while the
god looks at him. “His hair breaks when it when it’s wet. Dry it first.”
The god smiles at him slowly before accepting the towel. He quickly goes over
his head before resuming the brush strokes. “As I was saying. The wild man is
hardly an appropriate consort. I would prefer someone more sleek and gentle.
Though my little Starlight shies away from the feminine touch now.” He glares
at Erik, “You ruined that for him.”
Erik flinches at the accusation. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Charles is
an upstanding, righteous bastard. He’s naïve and idealistic at the best of
times. His only real vice is whoring.” Erik laughs as he looks away. “He’s
insatiable, our Charles.”
“My Charles,” corrects the false god. “Is a man with a big heart. He gives and
gives his love freely. But you’ve stolen his ability to love himself. To
cherish the intimacy he once found so easily with strangers. Now I have to
contend with the wild man and that deceitful angel.” He rolls his eyes.
“Because you have broken his ability to really enjoy himself.”
Erik narrows his eyes, “He enjoyed himself with me. He pretended sometimes but
I felt him when he came, I held him as he trembled.” He steps forward and looms
over the body of his possessed love. “I was there, when you weren’t. We made
love and he enjoyed every second of it.
The false god stops brushing to look up at Erik with wide eyes. He stands up
and steps forward. He reaches out and captures Erik’s mouth in a deep kiss.
Erik pulls away but the god ignores him and kisses him again. It goes on and on
until Erik hears the water running. He turns around and finds Charles brushing
his teeth. The image before him steps away and smirks before it vanishes.
The man at the sink spits before he sits up to wipe his mouth with a towel. “My
apologies, my horseman. I thought you were going to be awhile.” He turns around
and rests against the sink. “Our Charles certainly preferred you fucking the
air than actually using his body. He is quite the actor, our Charles.” He
smirks and the look is all wrong on Charles’s face.
Erik strikes out but is held back by an unseen force. The false god steps
forward, his hand clutching the air while all the air in Erik’s body comes
choking out. He coughs as he’s pushed against the wall.
“I’m going to forgive your transgression, Black Horse. You haven’t been broken
in yet. But this is your only warning. Don’t defy me when I can replace you so
easily.” He lets go and steps back. “Perhaps the wild man would make a better
Black Horse? And our Charles,” he says as bends over to pick up the hair brush,
“Already thinks he’s a good ride.”
Erik is left in the empty bathroom with the echoes of Charles’s laugh bouncing
on the tile.
He knocks over the box and breaks the mirror with his fist before putting his
shoes and coat back on. He storms out of the room and finds Magda stands at
foot of the stairway looking concerned for him.
“I thought I heard voices?”
He rolls his eyes before answering her, “Pack all this shit and put it in the
car!”
He stomps down the stairs and stalks past her. She barely has time to get out
of his way. “Where are you going? Why are we leaving?”
He stops at the doors, “I’m going for a walk. You are staying here. When I come
back be ready to move on. Or you can stay here and give birth to Warren
Worthington the fourth out in the garden!” He slams the door and ignores the
sound of her crying again. He walks off to about halfway in the yard before he
extends his hands and levitates over the walls. He can see the Palace in the
distance and hovers over the shambles of the city until he gets close enough to
walk.
The false god hasn’t said outright that he’s shielding Erik from view. So the
man remains cautious about being seen in public. This used to be his own city.
His name on the signs and his image engraved on a giant statue. He sees the
foundation of his monument still stands but all that’s left of his figure is a
bust lying face down in a weed covered park. He’s not happy about that.
Erik moves quickly to the Palace but stops just outside the large walls of the
property.
There’s a procession of media filtering in the gates. People with cameras just
outside their cars, reporters broadcasting in front of vans. Erik waits to take
advantage of one them. His beard has grown out so he wonders if anyone would
recognize him without the veil. Still, he thinks, it’s better to be wary.   He
snatches the hat off a bystander as he walks towards the crowd. He keeps his
head down and his collar up. He uses his powers to summon a spare camera from
one of the cars and places it front of his face.
He starts snapping away, walking towards the gate.
He’s hyper aware of what appears to guards behind a kiosk checking ID cards
just inside the gate. He keeps walking and taking pictures, hoping to be swept
up with others.
It’s a shock when he almost bumps into a familiar, tall purple woman in
uniform.
“You,” says Wyvern. She grabs his shoulder and points to his coat. Erik is
about to throw the camera in her face and run for it but the woman merely rolls
her eyes. “The press passes are not a joke. Wear it all times or you will be
turned away.” She looks at him without really seeing, he realizes. She doesn’t
look him in the eye or call him by name.
Erik lets the woman push him towards the Palace entrance. He keeps help smiling
behind the camera lens. He takes photos all the while, deliriously happy to be
so close Charles.
Soldiers, guards, police, and officials all mill around. There’s several desk
in the big entrance hall, a sign indicating that ‘press should report to the
Great Hall for the official statements of council’. Erik doesn’t give a damn
about the council. He’s seen them on television.
Instead he uses his powers to seek out familiar metals in the palace. Nothing
of his was carried over to this place. It’s close to where the Hellfire Club
lies in ruins. There’s some recycled metal in here, but nothing he knows
personally. Not until he feels the hairbrush. The silver in it sings out to him
and Erik follows.
Then smile he wore as he first impulsively came into the building drops from
his face.
He stops in an empty hall, several feet from where he feels the hair brush.
This is a trap, he thinks. The false god left a few bread crumbs and like a
moron, a desperate, hungry moron, he followed. He starts to turn around when he
feels the heat of hands upon the hair brush.
Charles, he thinks. Or if not Charles, the so-called First One.
Erik rallies all his discipline. He can control himself, he thinks. He can go
back to that house and mousy human woman and wait. But the hands on hair brush
stroke the handle. Fingers caress the engraved back. Erik stands still letting
the feeling of warmth wash over him with his eyes closed.
He opens his eyes and unthinkingly turns toward the brush.
He scoffs at the unlocked doors and the lack of security. The room is an
antechamber or den and looks well lived in. Then there’s one set of doors
leading to what he presumes is the bedroom. He can tell they’re unlocked as
well. He shudders when he opens the door easily and finds his beloved on the
floor. The younger man is just outside the bathroom, still wearing that red
shirt.
Erik closes and locks the doors behind him before he approaches. He leans down
and nervously reaches out. Charles is sweating, breathing heavily while he’s
unconscious. He looks like he’s having a nightmare. Erik strokes back his hair,
not daring to really touch the man yet.
Charles stirs but only to cry out a little. He sobs and tears run down the side
of his face.
Erik feels his body burning like it used to in the telepath’s presence. He
hasn’t been so aroused in a long, long time he thinks. He licks his own lips
before bending over to lay a kiss on Charles’s head.
***** Contracts *****
                           The_Astral_Plane_May_1967
                                        
It was the hairbrush, he thinks.
It looked so familiar, it threw him back to another time. Charles’s physical
body fell to the ground and his consciousness was thrown out. He ran from his
body. From thinking. From knowing.
 
“Daddy!”
Charles sees himself as a child in the reflection of his father’s shiny copper
bookends. He can’t remember ever being so small.
“Daddy!” Says the little face again, “May I please use your desk?”
His father looks young, even with the gray in his hair. He smiles gently at
Charles and sits back from the desk. “Sure you can, darling. Come on up here
and sit on my lap. Do you need anything?”
Charles marvels at how chubby his hands are. They carry a composition book and
several crayons. “I’m already Very Prepared.
“Indeed you are.” His father gives him an indulgent look, “But you may also use
my pen.”
“Wow,” says the little voice full of wonder. His father gives him his gold pen
with an ‘X’ engraved on the handle. “Thank you Daddy. I have very Important
Work. I have to write a book and make monies.”
Brian laughs and the adult trapped in the memory feels his heart catch on
longing. Brian kisses his son on the head, “I think it’s better to write
because you enjoy it. Not because you hope to profit from it later on.”
“Oh,” says the boy. “That’s not what mummy says.” He smiles when he hears his
father laugh again. “Can you help me hold the pen and write the words?”
“Yes, I of course.”
“I’ll draw all the pictures! I have red and blue and green and black and…
what’s this one called?”
“Gray.”
“I have gray too!”
“I see that, darling. Now what are we writing.”
“Um…” The little boy shoves his chubby thumb into mouth. Charles can’t remember
the last time he sucked his thumb. It must have been before his father died.
Thankfully he stopped before his permanent teeth came in.
“Perhaps a bedtime story.”
“I’m not sleepy!”
“We’ll read it later when you are, Charles.” Brian looks happy to be spending
time with Charles. This must be before the Mutant Rights rallies, he reasons.
His father was so busy before he died that he barely noticed Charles. “What do
you want to say in words?”
“Words. Words…. Hm.” The little hands open the notebook. “I like dogs!”
“Charles…”
“Can we have a dog?” Ah, but Charles has always liked sneaking in a request
when thinks someone’s guard is down.
“Mother says no. But do you want to write about dogs.”
Charles crosses his arms and he notes how round and pudgy his arms are. He must
have been a fat baby. Lucas grew to be quite big after the escape, but slimmed
back down by the time he started running. The comparison leaves an ache
Charles’s chest. “No… I saw a chicken!”
“A chicken? Here?”
“Yes, I saw Nanny Cooke with a chicken and she gave it to Mr. Hawkins! It was
outside eating in Mummy’s ‘For Show Not For Picking’ Flowers!”
Brian sighs and slumps in the chair, “That’s why we can’t have dog.” He raises
an eyebrow and Charles can see himself in the man. “What happened to the
chicken?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Hawkins says he’s sleeping.”
“He? Was it a rooster?”
“No, Daddy. It was a chicken.”
 
It’s a bizarre turn in his memories, he thinks. Like a stop sign that keeps him
from going further back. Charles opens his eyes and finds himself staring at
Erik, a little in awe.
It’s not like the man is completely repulsive.
He’s tall and handsome. There are mornings where the man hovers over, framed in
light like an angel. There are days he dresses like a movie star and his
smirking profile is so easy on the eyes. He’s funny in his own psychotic way.
He tries to make Charles smile. Charles closes his eyes, as pain flares up in
his head.
The man is not a complete monster. He’s a living human being. Well, a mutant
being. With thoughts and dreams. Charles has seen beautiful landscapes, the
world not exactly covered in metal towers but embraced by it. In Erik’s mind
the world could be so much more beautiful. There’s efficiency in his design,
practical considerations that would make everyday life seem like science
fiction. He calls it Utopia. But Charles can’t afford to think of that. He has
to get out of Berlin. He has to get home to his wife and child. He has to
escape…
Opening his eyes again he sees the man.   Handsome face, lit up with the early
morning light. Charles starts to offer a smile but the man is smiling. His
many, many teeth behind his red beard.
Red thinks Charles. It’s probably his favorite color. “MCR1,” starts Charles as
Erik stares at him. “Is the gene responsible for red hair in people all over
the globe. Brown skin or white skin, freckled or clear skin, mutant or human.
It’s there just lurking in the darkness waiting to make you ginger.” He frowns
at the red beard. Charles has said this before but it wasn’t…
A Beard?
Charles sits up, about to start screaming but the man covers his face with a
long fingered hand. Charles panics trying to use his gifts. Are they really
back or did he dream it. Is he still in Berlin? Is he still a captive?
Charles whines as Erik shushes him.
“I should have prepared for this. I should have brought something…”Charles
hears the thoughts that Erik tries to hide, loud and clear in his head. He’s
not dreaming. The monster has come to Utopia. Despite Charles’s warning.
Despite the Great Patriarch.
The telepath bites down on the man’s palm. He wrestles his head free and
screams, “No!” A kick from a strong leg, one without knee pain or weak from
muscle lost puts Erik down.
The other man reaches into his coat pocket, but Charles hears his thoughts. He
sees Erik stuffing a metal band in his coat days ago. The man weighs using the
collar on Charles. “It might not work on the both of them.”
Charles refuses to allow himself be collared by the man who held him captive.
For every moment of peace between them, every time they shared a smile there is
at least a dozen acts violence. This man compromised his autonomy. Stole his
family. Killed his wife. Charles wakes up from the dreamy haze that disabled
him. He wakes up and strikes out.
Erik falls away with a bloody grin, “I see you’re still mad at me.”
Charles notices he’s almost naked. The last thing he remembers is standing in
the shower. How did he get out and dressed in only a shirt and where did that
brush come from? There’s too much going on to think of it. Did Erik drug him
somehow? Daniel used to provide whatever agents Erik used on him. But Daniel is
dead. Charles is sure of it.
Erik starts for his pocket again and Charles has to get back to the present. He
tries to freeze Erik but his powers have no effect. Charles stares on with wide
eyes as the man approaches him, collar out in his hand. He is in the Palace
surrounded by guards. He is host to an omnipotent being. Surely someone can
help him now.
Charles calls on the shadowy figure. “How could this happen?!”
“Call the Angel. This one is shielded from us. He’s working with the Clan.
They’ve altered him, my child.”
Erik raises his hand and smirks as the collar rises. “I’ve repented for my
sins, Charles. I’m completely healed now.”
Charles raises his own hand and concentrates to try and destroy the collar. His
control of the stolen gift is not as strong as Erik’s innate ability. He fails
to influence it and Erik revels in his victory. Charles starts to panic and
finally calls on help. “Logan, Warren… anyone! Help me, please! He’s here. He’s
here!”Charles backs away, trying to get to the bathroom.
Erik raises a finger and shakes it at him. “Finding it hard to stop me, little
mouse? Finding all the power in your head working against you? Where is your
false god now?”
Charles refuses to curl up and cry, though he desperately wants to. “Please
help me, you promised.”
“You wished for me to stand aside. We can do anything together, child but you
would give all that power away. Do you want me to fight this monster for you?
Will you give us back our throne?”
Charles shakes his head, “No we have to decentralize power. We are not the
rulers of the world. We can’t be that!”
Erik frowns at him, “Cat got your tongue? Is it really you in there or are you
the other one? Are you fucking with me again, you imposter?”
“They are all trying to put a wedge between us, my Starlight. Do you see the
Clan now? Do you see what we must do?”
Charles feels his body trembling with fear and exposure. He whimpers as he
wraps his arms around himself, ashamed to be undressed near this man again.
“Take me, then. Stop him. Please.”
“That will not be necessary.”
Erik’s eyes twitch and he turns away from Charles with a distracted look. He
stares at the bedroom door. “Walking metal?”
The doors crash open as Logan kicks them off the hinges. He doesn’t stop to ask
questions. He merely unsheathes his claws and launches himself at Erik.
They both fall to ground but the madman rebounds from his initial shock. He
manipulates Logan until he’s floating, limps outstretched near the ceiling.
“You must be the wild man. The Wolverine. I laughed when Azazel told me you
were captured by Stryker. It’s a shame he wasted all the pretty metal on your
bones.”
Logan groans, “Chuck, I thought this fucker was dead!”
Charles reddens, embarrassed, “He makes coming back to life a habit.”
Erik turns back to smirk at him, “It helps that you spared me, my love. Thank
you for that.”
“Shut up!” Shout Charles and Logan.
Erik face falls and he turns his attention back to Logan. “I can’t say I see
the appeal.”
“My dick’s bigger!” Logan counters.
They both start insulting each other, but Charles hardly pays attention. He
backs away to bathroom and finds his sleeping bottoms. Logan is distracting
Erik while Charles summons more help. Warren and Lila are on the way. Charles
sees the metal hairbrush and thinks of the can opener. He bends down to pick it
up and Erik’s attention goes to it. Logan is moved to the doorway, blocking
anyone else who might come in.
“The Angel will apprehend him and we can question him about the Clan. After we
remove the technology blocking our influence.”
Charles nods, agreeing. “Whatever it is Hank can find it.” He turns the brush
over and stares at the engraving. “I know this brush… En Sabah Nur, I know
this. How did he get it in here?”
“I will take care this, child. This man will never hurt you again.”
Charles feels the pressure in his head, The First One pushing him out of his
own body. He lets go of what anchors him to the physical world.
 
“Unseated again, sugar?”
Charles looks around the theater, surprised to see it empty save for Emma’s
chilling presence. “What’s happening here?”
“I tried to help give your memories back. He knows that. Do you think you’ll
ever get that body back, now?”
“What are you talking about? What memories?”
“The ones you asked for. Everything I ever edited. Everything Daniel suppressed
with hypnosis. You were very little when this all started, Charles. And the
monster riding your brain has engineered all of this. He been looking for host
strong enough to help free him from the Astral Plane since before you were
born.
Brian leans down to shake a tiny hand. Charles sees banner above his head that
reads,
                  Psionic Conference 1939: Celebrate the mind
Charles walks through the scene, observing the memory from an outsider’s
perspective. “Is this your memory?”
“Partially. I was only a baby then,” she says as she walks around her younger
self. She reaches out to straighten a bow on the little girl’s head. “But I
built this from what Essex and Daniel remembered. They were both here as Annaud
hosted this event on behalf of Shaw’s goal. The Americans didn’t know about
Vincent, but they were already looking for a telepath to deal with Hitler. Your
father respectively declined.”
“Of course he did. He was a pacifist.” They walk around the room. His father
talks to a man with white hair and another little girl, “Who’s this?”
“Winston and Adrienne Frost. My sister had just manifested. My father was
looking for a tutor to help her control her ability. That’s how Essex found my
family.”
Essex is there lurking around the corners of the room, staring at the two
little girls. Charles feels disgusted with the sight, “And Daniel?” He looks
around for the other man and finds him appearing to be a middle-aged man. He’s
close to Shaw whispering in his ear while they focus on Brian.
Brian mingles with the other mutants, proudly displaying his wallet pictures of
Charles as a baby. Charles huffs out a laugh and looks to Emma. “I was a fat
baby after all.”
She frowns at him, “Pay attention, Charles. Look. It was the demonstration that
did us both in.”
Brian raises his fingers to temples, his wallet floats in the air. Shaw starts
clapping from the other side of the room, “Bravo,” says the future dictator. “A
telepath and with telekinetic abilities. That’s a very special gift.”
Brian blushes from the attention. Charles has always thought he favored his
mother, but again he sees himself in his father. But the sight is
disconcerting, “I never knew he could do that.” Charles looks at Emma expecting
an explanation but she just points at the door.
In walks a late comer. Jean-Jacques Annaud bows to Essex before walking in the
room with a little yellow notebook. He stops when he gets to the two little
girls. He smiles at them before making a note and moving on. He stops again
when Brian tries levitating an empty glass but drops the thing. The old man
bends over to survey the destruction. When he comes up to an embarrassed Brian
he holds out his hand, “Accidents happen, Dr. Xavier. I’m sure our host here
will forgive the misstep.”
Brian looks at the hand with a friendly smile, “What is your specialty, sir?”
He shakes the man’s hand for only moment before going still and collapsing to
the floor.
Daniel, Shaw, and Essex all turn their attention to the old man. Annaud raises
his hands, “Apologies. I couldn’t help but show off a little. I have the
ability to manipulate minds in their sleep. And put one to sleep as well.” He
smiles, “It comes in handy.” He waves the offending hand and the room of men
and women all gathered laugh.
 
The room melts away and Charles is left in the theater with Emma. “Is that
where this all started? My father dropped a glass?”
She appears more faded than the last time he saw her. “I’ve been trying to
unlock everything we put away in your head, but there are new holes, leaks that
let in shadows from the Astral Plane. I’m not the only ghost haunting you.”
“The boy… Angel. Why are they are focusing on me?”
“They’re drawn in from the The First One. He is the oldest and most powerful
being in the Astral Plane. He’s the biggest source of power here, and they
cling to him while he feeds off all of us.” She raises a faded hand, “I’m in a
better position I suppose. I know better than to stand in his shadow. But his
shadow falls over you now Charles. My memory won’t last here long.”
He looks sadly at her, “I’m sorry. I always planned to kill you in the end. I
never thought Erik would do it.” He smiles at her, “Will you move on from this
place? Is there a heaven?”
She scowls him, “How the hell should I know? This is like purgatory for the
mind and memories of psychics and mutants whose memories have been stolen. You
think I know what it’s like to not exist? If I did we wouldn’t be having this
conversation.”
Charles looks at her apologetically, “Why are you helping me now. If being here
is a risk to you, why are you helping me?”
She gives him a watery smile, “My little cuckoo.”
Charles feels himself being pulled away. The voice of The Great Patriarch
calling for his attention. He lingers as Emma and the theater fades away.
 
He appears to be back in the desert surrounded by mist. He waves a hand in
front of his face, “En Sabah Nur!” The mist clears up enough to make out a
tent. Charles walks over and enters through the flap. On the floor sits the
world’s first mutant.
A young warrior again, his legs crossed while he looks up at Charles. “Join me,
my Starlight. I have important news to share.” He smiles and Charles tries not
to flinch at the sight.
“Starlight, now? You’ve been full of endearments lately.”
“You are the light shining in the darkness,” he says holding his hand out, “Sit
with me, child. We have too many secrets between us. We must trust each other
to make a better world.”
“You mean I should believe you, when everything I care about is continually
threatened? How did Erik get here? Why did you let him near me?” He doesn’t
mean to sound so combative but he’s tired of feeling manipulated and let down.
“The clan…”
“You’ve said. But how am I supposed to believe you. You said they supported you
once. Still, you asked me to order all those nations to hunt those you called
descendants. I let my son watch as they turned over the hearts of your
children. I kept your secret, but you still let him die.”
“They are powerful, Charles. You saw that when the girl attacked you. They are
using the man’s technology to hide themselves. Their only purpose to extend
their own unnatural lives. Do you want to be like Vincent? Trapped in a chamber
as they suck you dry, draining my essence through your blood? Or will you help
me, Charles. Stop them before they can use us again. The tribute must be
extended until they are found.”
“No. We’ve already alienated the world. There must be something else.”
En Sabah Nur shifts from his own form to Erik’s. He leans away, careful not to
touch Charles. “Then we will use this one and his resources. Would you allow me
that?   If they’ve given him back his powers, they used what was left of blood.
Let him lead us back to the strongest of them.” He shifts back and speaks in
his own voice, “And then you can help me rise from this place.”
“Why would I want that? You seem to bring death with you everywhere you go.
Even through me. Why would I want you to really be in the world?”
“Because we will be glorious together.” He smiles disarmingly for someone with
sharp teeth. “You have to set aside your morality, Charles. Sacrifice is called
for when…”
“When we take over the world,” finishes Charles. “Together, you and I sharing a
single throne?”
The ancient one gives him a licentious smile, “You may sit in my lap.”
Charles lets out a laugh and moves closer. “Well that’s… that will take some
getting used to.” He looks the Great Patriarch in the eye while reevaluating
their relationship. “Can you give me some time to think about this? I have to
be the one who deals with Erik. I will make an announcement about your
tributes. I will hunt down your descendants. But you will give me time, won’t
you. I need…” He looks licks his lips and looks away. “I need space to clear my
head.”
En Sabah Nur reaches out and strokes his hair, before pulling him closer. They
sit on the rug in the sand for another few moments before the Astral Plane
falls away.
 
Charles wakes up in thrashing a bathtub with Logan hovering over him.
The man raises a hand, “Chuck! Calm down. I almost thought he was going drown
you for a minute.”
Charles stands up and gets out of the naked, marching past Logan as the man
follows him with a towel. He stops in the middle of bedroom, surveying the
damage down to his bed and balcony. He ignores it for now. There’s more
important things to worry about. “Is Erik secured?”
Logan wraps him up in a towel and tries to lead him to a chair. “Yeah. Oz
knocked him out and Lila and I got that collar on him. Oz ordered him to be
sent up to Hank to have his head unzipped.”
“I need to go see Hank.”
Logan sighs, “I don’t want you anywhere that fucking psychopath, Charles.”
“I don’t care about Erik, Logan.” He uses all his strength to block the Great
Patriarch. He thinks about the way the Living God looked at him, “I need Hank
to prepare me for surgery. Now.”
 
***** Countermeasures *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                          Gray_City,_Utopia_May_1967
                                        
Logan follows him, “Surgery? For the scratch on your head?”
Charles ignores him as he evades the other man.
“Where’s Erik?”
Charles has allowed Logan to wrap him in a bathrobe, but he walks the halls of
the Palace barefoot. He raises a hand to his head, where the scabbing on his
scalp itches. Logan pats his hand away, “Don’t pick at it. You’re lucky it’s
not more than a scratch.”
Charles sighs, “You’d think.”
Tessa and Raven spot him and follow. “Charles,” says Raven. “Are you okay? We
were coming to see you. Where are you going?”
Charles keeps moving. The tail behind him grows longer as Vincent and Darwin
join them as well. Darwin runs ahead to face Charles, “You had me worried,
Captain. Are you okay?”
Charles stops and his little train halts with him. He turns to everyone with
his hands raised, “No one else ask me if I’m okay, okay?” They all nod so he
continues. “You,” he points first to Vincent. “And Tessa. Go to the Great Hall
and tell them to bring back the throne.” Tessa frowns but before she can argue
he finishes. “We’re going to need it. Send word if you need me when it’s moved.
Don’t let the press in the building. We’re cleaning house.”
He resumes his march towards Hank.
Everyone who’s trailing behind him starts talking over each other. He doesn’t
answer them. Instead he concentrates on keeping his thoughts secret from En
Sabah Nur.
By the time he reaches Hank in the science and medical labs, the pain in his
head is buzzing from the repeated calling from The Great Patriarch. He makes a
beeline for where he knows Hank stored Aliya’s mask. Hank has removed an
interlocking metal circlet that was embedded in the mask. Charles takes it and
puts it on his head. He promptly falls to the ground and the others panic.
“I’m alright. It’s okay… I’m fine.” He tries to sit up only for Logan to grab
his shoulders and push him down again.
The larger man pins him in place, “That was scary fuck, Chuck. McCoy! Get your
skinny ass out here!”
Hank appears and looks at where everyone is hovering over Charles on the floor.
He holds a sandwich and a can of soda, appearing completely out of phase with
the situation. He states as much when says, “I was on lunch.”
Raven rolls her eyes, “We can see that, Henry. Come help us find out what’s
wrong with Charles. He just put this thing on his head. He’s talking crazy.”
Darwin stands up and scratches his head, “No he’s finally talking sense.”
Charles smiles up at his former second. “I hoped one of you would get it.” He
holds out hand. “Help get this gorilla off me,” he indicates where Logan is
still trying to keep him still.
Darwin smiles back slaps Logan on the back, “Move out the way Wolverine.
Captain’s orders.”
Logan growls, low in throat like an animal. “Fine.” He relents clearly unhappy.
“But isn’t that maniac still down here?”
Hank takes a bite out of his sandwich. “He’s through there. Warren helped me
neutralize him with that collar. He’s on an IV drip to keep him sleeping until
Havok can transport him to Fort Ironclad.”
Raven frowns, “That son a bitch. I can’t believe he’s alive in the first
place.”
Charles clears his throat, “It’s my fault. Everything is my fault, but I’m
going to rectify it now.”
Logan throws his hands to the side unsheathing his claws. “Fantastic. I’ll
help.”
“No,” says Charles raising a hand, “Put those away. I need his inhibitors
first.” He looks to Hank. “What did you do with the technology he’s using to
block me and the Great Patriarch?”
The younger man chokes on his sandwich. Raven has to pat on the back until his
throat clears. He sips from his soda can before answering Charles. “I destroyed
it. It… ah. Didn’t have anything to track. It was just like the circlet, but
smaller.”
Charles doesn’t need his telepathy to know his old friend is lying. Fine, he
thinks. Cleaning house will start with this room. He looks to Logan. “I need
you to stay by my side.”
Logan retracts his claws. “Anything, Chuck. You know that.”
“Good. Because I trust you. You helped my sister. You kept her safe when I
couldn’t.”
Logan shrugs, “She did most of the rescuing. I just stood around looking
pretty.”
Charles looks to Raven, “I need to know what you and Yuriko have been up to.
You’ve been discreet but you’ve been to India and Japan several times without
authorization.” He waves his fingers around his temples, “I’ve been keeping
track of you when you’re supposed to be doing government work.”
She frowns, “Nothing just… we were looking into something.” She bites her lips
and shuffles her feet. “We want to have a baby.”
“Ah,” says Hank. “You guys should have come to me!” Everyone stares at him and
his face turns red, “Not that… I mean I could have helped with fertilizing an
egg cell in a petri dish. Not to be a sperm donor or anything.” He clears his
throat and looks away.
Charles sighs, “Stop talking Hank.”
Darwin claps Charles on the shoulder, “And what about the Great Patriarch? His
last orders were to start calling for ‘tribute’ again. I’m not on board with
that, Professor. None of us are.”
Charles narrows his eyes and looks at Hank. “Some of you are.” Outing his old
friend as a traitor seems ill-timed just now. Instead he points the finger at
the Great Patriarch’s more active agents. “I need to keep everything we say
now, in this room. Warren is to be ejected from the council immediately. He and
the Great Patriarch are working against decentralization. I strongly suspect
they are the ones who killed N’Dare.”
Darwin puts his hand over his chest, “Finally. You had me and Alex looking all
over the place. I knew that red-eyed parasite had something to do with it. I
knew it in my gut, man.” He looks Charles in the eye. “I think we’ve all told
you at some point that you’ve been handling something that’s way too big. We
trust you Charles, but I’ve had a bad feeling about the Great Oz this whole
time.”
Raven nods agreeing, “He changes you. I know he said he’d protect us, but
Lucas.” Her voice breaks, “I was holding him, Charles. I’m so sorry.”
He pulls his sister in for a hug, “It wasn’t your fault.” He pulls away to wipe
her eyes, “I’ve told you that before. Don’t you believe me?”
She shakes her head and buries her face in his neck and they sway together as
she settles back down. He kisses her on the head when her breathing evens,
“Hank.”
The younger man nearly drops his soda, “Yeah.”
Charles narrows his eyes, “Why is my son entombed in the Great Hall?”
Everyone looks at Hank and swallows nervously, “Warren suggested something
regal for the little prince. The Great Patriarch said you weren’t ready to
return and he liked the idea of you being able to see him. That’s how they
buried kings and princes in the past.” He gives Charles a watery smile. “I
thought it was comforting to have him still near.”
Charles wishes he could take the circlet off and read his friend. Find out why
this is happening. “This is not a monarchy.” He turns to the others, “And we
have to work together to ensure that power is transitioned peacefully back to
the states.”
Darwin scrubs a hand across his face, “Alex says the general mood in the
shelters is negative. People are sure you’re going for President for life.”
Raven nods agreeing, “The reporters think that too. Even with the elections
being organized, they’re sure the Great Patriarch is waiting to tell everyone
he’s changed his mind.”
Charles moves toward the doors Hank came through and Logan slams a hand in his
chest. “No.”
Charles looks at the doorway, his face set with a determined look. “I have to
speak to Erik. You can come with me, but I have to know how far this has
gotten. Shiro, the boy we arrested for the assassination is one of his
acolytes.”
Raven shoulders past them, “Let me talk to him.”
“No.” Charles pulls her back. “I don’t need him dead yet. I came down here
first looking the inhibitors.”
Hank shuffles around, “Well you have the only one that works.”
Charles takes deep breath and turns his back on his friend. “Tomorrow morning
I’m going to answer questions about the attack.   I want a statement from the
boy about who gave him orders. Tessa will read him for the truth.
Darwin gestures at his head, “Maybe Tessa’s in on it with the Great Patriarch
too.”
“No,” he shakes his head, “I doubt that. She’s warned me before, but I’ve been
too blind to really pay attention. I see now, Darwin. But I can fix this. I
know can.”
He starts walking toward the door again but Hank stops him, “We can’t wake him
yet. He’s deeply sedated.” He scratches at that the back of his neck, “But I’ll
call you in couple of hours when it wears off. He’s harmless now with the
collar on.”
Charles doubts that’s how the Great Patriarch wants the madman. “Fine,” he
concedes. “Darwin will stay here and make sure Mr. Lehnsherr is properly
guarded.”
Hank looks around nervously, “Well, Warren already said…”
“Warren is no longer trustworthy, Hank. You understand.” He looks his friend in
the eye. The man swallows and nods meekly. Charles turns on his heel, “Logan,
I’m going to go put some clothes on. We need to see to some things before Erik
wakes up.”
Raven follows him out, “And what about me? Does this super-secret plan of yours
have any work for me?”
Charles looks back Hank as they walk out the lab, “Watch him. Don’t let him out
of your sight. Find out what he and Warren have really been up to around here.
The day Lucas died, Cerebro disabled my powers. Find out why my old friend
would do that to me.”
Raven salutes and her skin ripples, changing into her blonde form. “He’s always
liked me better this way.” She smirks and goes back inside.
 
Charles and Logan walk back to their room in silence. Charles feels faint from
having the great expanse of his abilities shuttered. He sits down on the chair
and looks around the room. The doors of the balcony were blown off, the table
and chairs are destroyed. The dressers and nightstands tipped over. And then
there’s bed. It’s a pile of wood and cloth, almost artfully left in the center
of the room. “What happened to my bed?”
Logan looks at it, as guilty as Charles has ever seen the man. He shrugs
handing Charles a clean shirt and a pair of slacks. “I’ll build us a new one.”
Charles smiles up at him, “My poor darling.”
Logan walks away, to their shared closet. Mostly full of Charles’s suits. All
of his own clothes are still in convenient duffle bag in the corner. He kneels
down and fishes out a clean shirt for himself, “I’mma go wash up, Chuck. You
get to wait for me in here. Don’t go all John Wayne looking for heads to bust.
And I don’t want you anywhere that cape-wearing asshole.”
Charles doesn’t bother dressing, instead he gets up and drapes himself over
Logan where the man is still kneeling. Logan keeps them both from tumbling over
so Charles pushes until he takes the hint. They fall over and Logan just lays
on the floor, obediently waiting for Charles to make another move.
“I don’t think there’s time for this, Chuck.” He says even spreads his own
legs.
Charles laughs into his neck, before kissing the larger man behind the ear. “I
suppose you’re right.”
He gets up and walks away with Logan turning around, still spread out on the
floor. “That wasn’t a ‘no’, genius.”
Charles pretends to ignore him as he walks into the bathroom. At least nothing
in here was damaged. He shucks off the bathrobe and starts a shower. He’s still
clean from the bath, but shower sex sounds like a convenient way to work off
his anxiety. He doesn’t want to think about his body’s response to knowing Erik
is nearby. The problems he’s facing is compounded by deceit from the people he
had faith in. He doesn’t want to the shadows of this past still touching him as
well.
Hank all but confirmed his suspicions. He’s never been a good liar. And this
raises so many questions. The Great Patriarch allowed this to happen, but for
what purpose? Why did The Living God let Erik anywhere near Charles and then
claim he couldn’t do anything?
Charles steps into the shower just as things get clearer in his mind. The Great
Patriarch wants Charles to solely depend on him. The telepath has gotten
stronger in the last year, but that’s not what the god from wants him. He wants
Charles to be afraid. He wants Charles to need him. So he set this all up. And
killed three enemies at the same time. Charles hopes it not the case. He hopes
he’s missing something from the narrative. Perhaps Hank really did remove and
destroy some inhibitors. Perhaps Shiro was working on his own. Perhaps ancient
Egyptians consider consorts to be a platonic…
No, he reasons. It just his luck to wake up an apparently horny god. The Greeks
and Romans weren’t so far off, he thinks.
Logan comes in the bathroom just as Charles thinks he’s almost figured things
out. The older man strips down quickly and joins him. He pulls Charles close
but simply holds him as they stand together.
Charles can easily admit to preferring Logan’s gentleness. Most days. But the
fact that Erik is near makes his blood thump in his ears. He can feel echoes of
every encounter tainting his preferences. The memory of the lies he told
himself for over a year. “I like this. This feels good.” He shudders as Logan
puts his hands on him, noting the difference between them and the long fingers
he’s used to.
The man gently rubs his shoulders and neck. His cock is half-hard and jutting
out. He doesn’t make a move to bother Charles about it. Something in the
younger man snaps. He turns on Logan and bites down hard on his lip. Grabbing a
handful of hair, he’s confident the other man can hold him while he climbs up
his body. “Don’t fuck around Logan.” He bites again and backs away to watch the
wound heal.
Logan raises a brow, “Getting a little violent, Chuck.”
Charles yanks his hair, “I really hate it when it you call me that.”
The other man grins knocking their foreheads together. Still careful with the
smaller man. He holds Charles up with one arm while slipping a thick finger
into Charles’s hole. Gently of course.
It makes Charles see red behind eyelids, and he pulls the burly man’s hair
again. “I’m not a child, Logan. I’m not a doll. You can use me.” He licks his
own lips before giving the man a sloppy kiss. “You can do anything… at all. I
want you to. Just this once really fuck me.   Like you don’t,” he breaks off
and sobs a little. “Like you don’t give a damn. Fuck me like you really want
me.”
Logan is still gentle, holding him up and letting the younger man rest his head
on his shoulder. He pumps and scissors his fingers before turning them around
and pressing Charles into the tile.
He doesn’t stop as he explains, “I’ll give you the long of short of why that’s
not happening, Chuck. One. I like calling you Chuck. Your face gets all red and
you really fuckin’ cute when you blush.”
Charles huffs out a weak laugh against his neck.
The man continues, “Two. I don’t think of you as child or doll or anything
else. I told you before, that’s not my brand of kinky. Get your sister in
here…”
“Stop talking.”
“Well you asked,” he grins.
Charles grunts as the larger man lines them together, the head of his cock just
brushing the ring of muscle.
“And three.” Logan slides inside, pressing in deeply while Charles throws his
head back. He takes advantage by licking the younger man’s throat. “I’ve got
superhuman strength.”
Charles doesn’t hear him, concentrating on how he feels. He wants more than
this but Logan doesn’t allow much room to move.
“Normal sex has never been an option for me,” explains the man while slowly
pumping in and out. “And with my skeleton coated in an extra hundred pounds of
metal, I have to be really, really careful. Especially with you wee little fair
folk.” He grins after adopting a terrible Irish accent.
Charles already knows all this but still, he thinks. He feels like the other
man is too gentle. Too caring. When he what he wants is to feel something.
Especially now, when he has to face Erik later. He wants the madman to see him
marked and bruised and thoroughly used.
He doesn’t say as much to Logan already knowing how he’d feel about that.
“Thank you for your consideration. But I am not a leprechaun, Logan.” He tries
to spur the man on with his heel, but Logan is strong enough to hold them for
up for a long time. He barely moves with Charles squirming against him.
The man looks at him doubtfully, “I’m pretty sure I’ve found a pot gold or two
laying around that old mansion.”
Charles erupts with laughter. He thinks it’s probably true, given his great-
great grandmother’s habit of hiding money in the walls. “Okay. Fair enough.
But,” he says looking the man in the eye. “I want you. Right now. Please just
help me to stop thinking. Just give me five minutes of peace.” He whines and
nuzzles his head in the crook of the man’s neck.
Charles is surprised that Logan pulls out. The other man lets his feet down and
stands back, arms crossed over his hairy chest. “Five minutes?” He so affronted
Charles can’t help laughing. “I’ll give you… you know what let’s settle this
now.” He grabs his cock and Charles stands there, anticipating. “I wanna know
something. My dick is bigger than that walking fridge magnet’s right?”
Charles then lets out light sounding laugh as he falls to his knees. He hums in
appreciation before Logan’s cock in his hand. “No,” he says honestly. “But I
rather have you here than anyone else.” He pumps the other man’s cock while
reaching behind to finger himself. He hopes the man will shed his concerns and
just fuck him already. Logan is usually oblivious to Charles’s self-
flagellation but he stops Charles this time.
The man kneels down, “You get this little line in the middle of your forehead.
Not the good thinking kind, either. Like you’re doing something you don’t want
to do.”
Charles frowns at him, “I want to. I’m fine... let’s just get this over with.”
Logan looks angry for second before his face softens. Gentle, always gentle,
thinks Charles. The larger man stands up and pulls Charles with him. “And you
said we were partners. I only do happy sex, maybe angry and makeup sex, but
this. Whatever it is, I don’t like it.” He says it evenly but the emotions on
face say he clearly feels different. “Just tell me what you want, Charles.”
Charles blinks away a few tears. He leaves the shower and after a moment Logan
follows him. He walks out to his study where the furniture hasn’t been smashed
to pieces. Night and Day’s dog beds still empty while a guard gets them use to
the walls.
Logan doesn’t say anything, but quietly offers his support. He wraps Charles up
in a towel and pulls the younger man into a hug.
Gentle, thinks Charles.
He hardly deserves it.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Ao3 was down when I first tried to post this, and I forgot to go back
     and try again.
***** Three Crayons *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                     San_Francisco,_California_August_1942
Charles grabs his favorite bear. It’s the exact right size for bedtime.
His Daddy has promised to read with him tonight before going back out for
another rally. Their time in California has been dreadfully boring. Then, to
make things worse, he’s caught a sniffle.
Daddy has been busy making the world free for mutants. It’s Very Important
work, and Charles’s new west coast nanny, Ms. Selena, complimented him on being
a very mature boy. He nodded along at the time, not entirely sure what ‘mature’
meant, but Ms. Selena explained that he was being very considerate of his Daddy
and the all the hard work he did for the movement.
But Daddy has been late for bedtime almost every night since they arrived.
There are things to keep him happy when Daddy is away. Charles likes seeing all
the sunny places. The house Daddy bought especially for his work has a tree
house that is fun to climb.
Charles is just thinking about what story he’d like to hear when Ms. Selena
comes in. “Time for a bath, Charlie.” Charles doesn’t like her very much. She’s
not soft and good at cuddles like Nanny Cooke. She’s more like Mummy. Skinny
and tall, but with long black hair. Like a witch. She’s not very fun, but Daddy
says Nanny Cooke couldn’t leave the mansion. So he had to hire someone out
here. And Ms. Selena knocked on the door and got the job. But she won’t let
Charles call her Nanny and that just doesn’t sit well with him, he supposes.
He shakes his head. “I want Daddy first.”
She pulls him away from his stack of books on the nightstand. “Honestly,
Charles. You are six years old. Time to stop acting like a baby.”   She pulls
him along to the bathroom. Charles hates when she does bedtime. He stops using
his legs and goes floppy. Ms. Selena breathes out through her nose, almost
whistling with anger. She picks Charles up and takes him to the tub. “You are
getting so fat with all those sweets! And all the rest of your teeth are going
to fall out from sugar. I’m starting you on a vitamin regimen.”
Charles doesn’t understand right away. She props him up on the sink counter and
takes off his button down shirt. She pokes him in the belly with a pointy
finger. “Ow,” says Charles. It didn’t tickle like it’s supposed to. He frowns
up at her. “Mummy already makes me take Vitamin Iron and Vitamin Bee. I’m not
fat, I’m… I’m… um,” he says, lost thinking of a good word.
She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the shoulder. Charles jumps away and the
woman has the nerve to grab him by the wrist. “Hold still or this will hurt.”
Charles stares with wide eyes as she opens the medicine cabinet and pulls out a
needle. It’s a big needle too. Charles despises needles. He tries to squirm
away but she grabs hold of his hair. Charles stops struggling and cries,
“Please, Nanny don’t!”
“Stop crying. It’s only a little injection.”
Charles may be young, but he’s not stupid. The needle is enormous. “I’m going
to tell my Daddy you tried to stick me!”
The woman smirks, half her face pulling up in an ugly way. She quickly jabs
Charles in the shoulder and weathers his screaming. “He already knows. It’s his
treatment for your health. You better not bother him about it. He wants to know
that you can be a big boy and take your medicine, Charles.”
Charles wipes away his tears, hiccupping while he cries. “I don’t like you!”
“Tough,” says the woman.
She pulls him down and strips him quickly. His bath is over with in the most
boring fashion and he is sent back to his room with his bear and his books.
Ms. Selena walks to the doorway and smirks at him again, “You better go to bed
before your father returns. I’d hate for him to catch you up so late.”
Charles is still crying, and now his nose is running too. He wipes his face
with the sleeve of his cowboy pajamas. It’s not worth getting in trouble, he
thinks. He rather go on to bed and talk to Daddy in the morning. If possible
he’d like to see her Sacked. Mr. Hawkins said bad people are Sacked when they
don’t they their jobs, and she was certainly not doing hers.
He rubs his face again as he settles himself and gets into bed.
 
The next day it happens again. And again. Ms. Selena sticks him a needle at
breakfast, then before lunchtime.
Daddy is nowhere to be found.
Charles makes up his mind after he eats his dessert. He’s going to run away, he
tells himself. He’ll write Daddy a letter, complaining of the unfair
conditions. Like the factory people in the newspaper. Surely he has Rights as
well.
He goes to his room and packs his getaway bag. His books of course. His
spinning tops. His marbles, tin soldiers and… well, he thinks. He may need two
getaway bags. It takes him until the clock chimes for two o’ clock, but he
finally manages to pack the Essentials. But then he remembers he needs
Provisions as well.
He sneaks as quietly as he can down to the kitchen. He knows Ms. Selena is
hiding the good cookies and sweets up in the high cabinet. Charles plans to
move a chair and climb up until he can reach them. But before reaching the
kitchen he hears voices.
“That’s not fucking possible!”
A swear word! Charles plasters himself to wall, afraid he’s been caught.
“I’m telling you the little brat can already block me. My powers only worked on
him the first night. He must be strong already, not even completely manifested.
That idiot thinks the child is just an empath.”
Charles frowns and slides closer to the doorway. He wishes he was invisible,
and hopes Ms. Selena doesn’t look for him now. There’s another, deeper voice in
the kitchen. The tiny clank of tea cup and saucer. Who, he wonders is drinking
tea with his Witch Nanny?
“How can you be so calm? Waiting for that delusional idiot and his concoction
to work… the kid is too strong for something as stupid as this to work.”
“He used tissue samples,” says the man. For it has to be a man, reasons
Charles. “Harvested from Subject A. It’s very potent chemistry we’re dealing
with my dear. It will make the child open to suggestion for years.”
Charles wonders if they’re talking about him. And what exactly does any of this
means. He risks looking around the doorway to see an old man at the table. The
nerve, he thinks! The man is eating some of the cookies Charles was going to
pack! That makes the boy’s blood boil. He has to carefully consider whether he
should speak up or keep hiding. He would he hate to get a time-out for
eavesdropping.
“Daniel has our young doctor’s ear now. Everything will move as planned.
Tomorrow night we’ll… Ah I see what you mean about him being a naughty boy.”
Charles gasps and starts to run back to his room. Worst case, he thinks, he’ll
get a time-out or another needle.
He stops when a puff of red and black appears in front of the stairway.
Charles gapes at the tall red man, “It’s you. From the hotel.” He remembers
when he first caught his cold and a nice boy sat with him in the lobby a few
days earlier. There was this tall man and another man. He suspects they were
Republicans because they made Daddy really upset.
Ms. Selena and the old man come out of the kitchen. She takes him by the ear
and yanks him, “I told you this was stupid. We can just take him to Nova Roma
now and be done with this bullshit.”
The old man taps her on the forehead and she falls over.
“Ding, dong. The witch is dead.” Charles whispers as he looks over her, “Are
you friends of Daddy? Why are you sneaking around my house? Why did you kill
Ms. Selena? I really appreciate that.” He smiles up at the stranger who ate his
cookies.
The red man laughs and pats Charles on the head, “This one is priceless.”
Charles looks at the old man, “Are you a nuclear scientist?”
The old man kneels down, slowly. So slowly Charles, feels like it takes a
million years for them to see eye to eye. “Your father is more than a
scientist, young Charles. And I had a feeling that you would be as well. Tell
me, do you sometimes hear other people in your head?”
Charles looks up at the old man. “My ears works fine,” he says sensibly. He
steps away, “But I think you should leave now. My Daddy will be home soon, I’m
sure.”
The red man laughs again before walking over and pulling the old man up by the
elbow. “I’m sure he will. He has to keep you out of trouble, little mouse.”
Charles frowns at the name, not liking it at all. “I’m hardly a rude-ant.”
The old man and red man laugh as they disappear in a puff of smoke.
That was odd, thinks Charles. But they were mutants and his father fights for
mutants. Mutants are good people, he reminds himself. Like Daddy.
He leans over Ms. Selena on the floor, taking up her hand and letting it fall
back on the carpet. Her chest moves in and out so she’s probably not dead. Oh
well, thinks Charles. He knew it was longshot. Besides he’d hate to really see
a dead body. And more importantly, Daddy would be very crossed.
Charles considers her still body for a moment before he thinks about making her
more comfortable. He runs to the living and grabs an armful of pillows. He
places one under Ms. Selena’s head, one under her feet and one under that hand
he dropped. Just in case he hurt her.
He huffs at the woman on the floor, “Serves you right for sticking me.” He
sticks his tongue out at her once, then again with his teeth closed. He grins
down, marveling at how tongue must peek out of the space where his first tooth
fell out.
After the novelty of that wears off, he walks away.
Now is the perfect time to collect the Provisions.
By the late afternoon, the sun is going down and Charles has successfully Ran
Away. To the treehouse.
 
He missed his nap this afternoon, with all the excitement. So he reasons he
should take one now. He has everything he needs. His treehouse is high up off
the ground, almost as tall as his Daddy. He unpacked all of his things. Then
line his guards up at the door so as to be Ready For Anything. Then threw his
pillows in a corner to make a most comfortable bed. He was just lying down with
teddy thinking about which book to read first. He had his Pooh books and his
Rabbit books. But they were long and would better with Daddy doing the voices.
He pulled out his book, which he and Daddy wrote together a long, long time
ago. So long ago he couldn’t read or write yet. Back when he still had all his
baby teeth.
Charles props himself up on his elbows and reads the cover first.
“A book told by Charles Francis Xavier, and written by Brian James Xavier.
Illustrated by Charles Francis Xavier.”
He smiles at Daddy’s very neat handwriting, the way the X’s look very
important. He tries to write like that himself, but Daddy says it takes
practice. He flips to the first page, a picture he drew of Nanny Cooke’s
chicken. Daddy’s writing is on the next page.
“There once was a red, red hen. Her name was Red Hen. She was a sleepy, sleepy
hen. But no matter how much she tried, she could not go to sleep in her own
bed.”
Daddy had explained how chickens worked. Boy chickens were roosters and girl
chickens were hens. The chicken in their house that day was a hen. Charles
wishes they could have kept her as pet but he suspects she was in the very
important dinner they had that night. Charles yawns without covering his mouth.
His Mummy isn’t here to tell him to be polite so he smiles to himself.
He jumps when there’s a knock on the side of the treehouse. Then two taps and
another hard knock.
The secret password! “Daddy!”
Charles rushes over to the doorway and leaps out into his father’s arms. His
Daddy laughs and kisses him on the head before throwing him way into the sky.
Charles screams, but he’s not really afraid. He knows his Daddy is the
strongest man alive and would never drop him.
“Daddy! You didn’t come home last night and that woman,” he starts but Daddy
hushes him.
“Ms. Selena was looking all over for you. You had her very worried.” He gives
Charles the serious father eyebrow frown and that makes the boy feel bad for
leaving the Witch Nanny on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes before he remembers. “But she kept sticking me! With
long sharp needles! I don’t need any more vitamins, Daddy.” He pouts and his
father’s face, “Please don’t give me anymore.” He knows she said he’d be cross
but sometimes Daddy gives in if Charles just makes his eyes round and sticks
his lip out, like Mummy does.
Daddy’s frown only gets worse. He reaches into the treehouse and grabs teddy
and the book. He looks around before telling Charles that they’ll come back for
the rest of it later. Right now they have to talk to Ms. Selena. They find her
in the living room with yet another old man. This one is balding with thick
black glasses on his nose. Charles scratches his head, wondering why she knows
so many old men.
Charles’s father walks right up to them and doesn’t let Charles down. He looks
very cross and stares at Ms. Selena. “Why are you giving my son injections?”
She coughs a little and looks at the old man before answering. “It was just
vitamins, Mr. Xavier. He’s been so sickly.”
The old man with the glasses stands up and offers his hand, “You must be little
Charlie. I’m Dr. Reinhardt. But you can call me Uncle Danny.”
Charles leans away and buries his face in Daddy’s neck. He’s in no mood for
company. He wanted to take a nap but Daddy jostles him until he looks up and
takes the man’s hand. “Charles Xavier, sir. It’s a pleasure to make your
acquaintance.” He knows all the right words to say to new grownups. His Mummy
would be proud, he thinks.
“Such a delightfully well-spoken young man. I can tell Sharon trained him up
right. You probably had nothing to do with it, eh Bri?” He laughs and slaps
Daddy on the shoulder. Charles assumes they must be old friends. Perhaps this
man has nothing to do with Ms. Selena and the strangers from earlier.
Daddy smiles, but it’s a tight smile. He speaks just to Charles, “I’m going out
later this evening, but Ms. Selena will watch over. I’m not sure when I’ll be
back. There is a very important event I have to help organize. Do you think
you’ll be alright?”
Charles nods bravely, “Of course, Daddy.”
He sets Charles down on the couch near Ms. Selena. She looks between him and
his father. “I can’t believe you ratted me for trying to keep you from getting
pneumonia.” Charles has feeling in his head, one that says her words are lying.
She’s always lying. He tries to shake off the feeling and watches as Daddy and
his new Uncle Danny walk upstairs. The old man carries a heavy looking bag and
Charles wonders if he was there to give Charles a checkup for his sniffle. He
cringes thinking there’ll be more needles in his future. But then notices his
things are missing.
Daddy was still holding his teddy and book. Charles jumps up from the sofa to
go follow them.
“Charles!” Calls Ms. Selena but he ignores and goes to retrieve his things.
Daddy’s office door is closed and Charles has to tug and tug to pull it open.
Inside Daddy is on the floor and Uncle Danny is kneeling beside him with his
doctor’s bag open. Charles cries out, “Daddy!” He runs over to the pair and
kneels by his father, “What happened?”
The old man sighs, “Well this is most unexpected. I think he’s had a negative
reaction to the first wave. But you… you feel alright don’t you?”
“What wave? Did Daddy go swimming?!” Charles starts to cry and shakes his
father hoping to wake him up. His eyes aren’t closed and he stares up at the
ceiling, but doesn’t move. Charles is sure he’ll be alright then, “Daddy! Get
up!”
Uncle Danny stops him, “I’m afraid it’s no use Charles. He’s not going to wake
up now.” He starts to stand up, leaving Daddy on the floor.
Charles yells at the stupid man, “You have to help him! You’re a doctor!
Please!”
The old man lifts his bag and takes it to the desk. There he closes it with a
snap and Charles feels his heart thumping harshly against his chest. He panics
and shakes his father again.
“Charles, I want you to listen to the sound of my voice,” says the old man.
Charles looks up in time to see Ms. Selena come in the room. She’s holding out
another needle, and looks meanly between him and his father on the floor. The
old man tells her to wait.
Charles is stuck between the two of them, afraid and angry. His daddy is hurt
and they aren’t doing anything. “Go get a doctor!” He tells the woman, “A real
one! This one is trying to hurt my Daddy!”
The woman smiles while looking over his head, “I’ll give him the last one and
then you can start, Reinhardt.” Charles is so frighten he nearly wets himself.
He starts crying while wishing he were invisible. The woman frowns and waves a
hand through the air. “Where’d he go?”
Charles steps back but bumps into his father’s body on the ground. The old man
grabs him the arm, “What did you just do to her?”
Charles doesn’t have time to replay as his sinister nanny sneaks up behind him
and jabs him in the neck.
“Ow!” Charles cries and tries to pull away but the old man is stronger than
him, and Ms. Selena ignores his tears. She picks him up and sits him up on the
desk.
“I told you to stay still. Now, count backwards from one hundred.”
Charles shakes his head no and the old man moves her to the side, “Enough of
that, woman. I have to be delicate with phase or won’t take. Now move aside
while I see to him.” He bends over and looks Charles in the eyes, taking off
his glasses as he holds the boy still.
Charles feels hot all over. His hands are sweaty and his head hurts. It’s an
incredible pain starting from his neck and burning up to his skull. He feels
like all his hair is going to fall out, or catch on fire or something. He tries
reaching up to his head but the fake doctor grabs his hands.
“Look at me, Charles. Now.”
Charles probably has no choice, but he thinks he should fight anyway. He closes
his eyes. And the man laughs at him. He tries to cover his ears but the man
holds him down.
“Fine. Just listen. I’m your friend, Charles. Above all else, remember that.
I’m your good friend, Daniel.”
Charles shakes his head again, keeping his eyes close. He stops because it
makes him feel dizzy. He hopes it’s enough to make him get sick and throw up
all over the man.
“You are Charles Francis Xavier. Your father was Brian Xavier. He was a
scientist. He killed himself in here today. He was low level telepath. He
fought for mutant rights. He was a very good father. He read to you every
night.”
The words start running into each other. Charles feels them settle in his mind
and take up space. He’s aware of the old man reaching behind him, Selena takes
over holding his hands down. He tries to thrash in her arms but she slaps him
across the face.
“Enough,” says the old man. “It’s time for a bedtime story.”
“I’m not sleepy,” lies Charles. He’s become very sleepy.   Never mind the nap
he missed, his head feels heavier and heavier, despite the pain. He just wants
to lie down and give up fighting.
The old man clears his throat, “Aw. This is cute. Did your papa write this for
you?”
Charles frowns, but then his face goes slack. He can’t bother to keep his
screwed eyes shut as he really starts to drift off.
The old man is very close, whispering in his ear. The story he’s read with his
Daddy almost every night for such a long, long time. Charles feels a tear down
his face, but he’s powerless to wipe it away.
“The poor sleepy Red Hen. Her hay was not good enough, her roost was not warm.
She decided to leave and roost somewhere else. So she asked the other animals
who lived on the farm if she could sleep in their beds.”
Chapter End Notes
     This is the second earliest chapter I think...
     So I might finally get around to the chronological order since I
     finally get it out of the way. Yay.
***** Dinner Date *****
Chapter Notes
     Erik's POV
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                           Gray_City,_Utopia_May_1967
 
Erik had only a few moments to strategize after it became apparent the false
god was going make an appearance. He assumed his grip on the hairy beast would
be compromised and that he would be manhandled into a holding cell. The god had
deliberately taunted him to bring him here, but he was certain he wouldn’t be
killed in custody. In the seconds before he lost his powers he destroyed
several components within the collar.
It worked brilliantly.
The god had thrown him around and Wolverine had tried to slice him to pieces.
He ducked just in time for the slashing Neanderthal to land in the bed. Then he
threw a sheet over the man’s head and watched him demolish the bed as he tried
to get out. Erik started laugh but then the younger Warren broke in through the
balcony.
By the time Wolverine was free, Erik was already being peacefully apprehended.
Warren the Third, had collared him and for the show of it struck him across the
face. He passed out, and woke up here.
Somewhere in the Gray Palace, someone has gone to great lengths to recreate one
of Shaw’s old labs. At least that’s how he feels about the glassed-in cell
where he’s being kept. Warren and the false god escorted him to the main labs
and handed him off to McCoy. Erik was hesitant to be left with a man. But McCoy
merely sighed and showed him where to sit while he strapped Erik to an
elaborate wheelchair.
“You will stay put until I have need of you again, Black Horse.” The face of
the false god twists in a disfigured smile, “Let my Pale Horse aid you when it
is time to gather the others. Be quiet, and give nothing away.”
Erik watched them leave and the skinny man who claimed to be Charles’s old dear
friend was left to make him more comfortable. “I have to put you to sleep, and
keep you that way for a few hours. They’re going to keep Charles from seeing
you again before we take you to Ironclad with the others.”
Erik lets McCoy hook him up. The chair is leaned back enough for him to
recline.
Erik is left alone with a dripping IV and his thoughts.
 
He opts to sleep and dreams about Charles.   About a morning where they woke up
in a tangle. His head on Charles’s chest. The younger man’s fingers combing
through this hair. It’s a slow, peaceful dream and it’s hard to come out of it.
Erik is softly smiling to himself when he finally hears the door open.
He doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he wakes up. He expects McCoy or the
Angel to be there, ready to help him escape. He’s a little surprised when a
sharp slap across face wakes him up.
He opens his eyes to see Charles standing over him.
Charles is dressed in a suit, a metal circlet now crowning his head. Erik
stares at him in awe of the younger man’s regal beauty, but that crown looks
suspiciously like an inhibitor of his own design. The ones he left with Clan
Akkaba.
“Fuck,” he says staring up at the man. He gets another slap for his trouble and
someone in the doorway laughs. Charles backs away as the Wolverine enters and
sets a table up between them. The man grins down at Erik with a cigar dangling
in his lips. He then sets up a folding chair and Charles primly sits in it.
Erik licks the corner of mouth, tasting blood. He would laugh at this whole
farce but the false god told him not to give anything away. He can play along
until later, he thinks.
“Are you here to kill me or watch me suffer?” He asks with a faint smile on his
face. “That’s a lovely suit. Brings out your eyes.” He stares pointedly at the
circlet with a raised brow. He leans forward, with the little give the straps
afford him.
Charles looks unfazed. “Shut up, Erik.” He turns to the others with him, “Thank
you Logan and Darwin. I can handle this from here.”
“But Chuck,” grunts the hairy ape-man. Erik eyes the man, annoyed that his hard
work has vanished. The Wolverine appears completely healed. He on the hand
probably has a black eye. He certainly feels that way.
Charles calmly crosses his legs and sits with his hands in his lap. “That will
be all Logan.” He presses. “I’ll call if I need you. Close the door, please.”
He points at the glass behind him and the Wolverine finally relents following
Darwin to just outside the cell to gawk at them from there.
Erik sits still, barely suppressing a smile. “I didn’t think you were allowed
to see me.”
Charles frowns at him, “I’m practically king of the bloody world, Erik. I’ll do
as I like.”
Erik’s face breaks into a grin, “I knew you could do great things. I knew it.
Look at you, Charles.” He looks the man up down, “You are beautiful. And no one
appreciates you more than I do. Why haven’t you killed me yet?” He teases. No
matter what this man says, he knows Charles must love him back. Even if he
doesn’t realize it. Charles keeps his eye trained on Erik, watching for any
sign of escape. He’s helpless right now with that thing on his head. Erik
wonders if it’s enough to keep the false god at bay as well. If it is, then the
question of when he gets out is thrown in the bin. He now wonders what Charles
is up to.
The younger man answers the question on his mind, “The Great Patriarch said you
were blocking me. And this is something you designed,” he gestures to his own
head. “I can tell. But there’s no proof. Nothing that links it back to you. The
girl who was wearing it died on my walls.”
Erik tilts his head, “That is news to me Charles. I wasn’t aware of any deaths
in the palace. Did you kill her?”
Charles clenches his jaw and looks away. Ah, thinks Erik. He’s guilty of
something. “I did not kill her, but she… gave her life to protect whatever is
behind this. Something very powerful is working against this regime.”
Erik stares at the circlet again and grins, “It’s probably all in your head.”
“No,” Charles says leaning forward. “This isn’t a joke or game. Someone is
trying to kill me, Erik.”
Erik laughs outright, “Those big, blue eyes. Are you still trying to manipulate
me, Charles? If only I could get my hands on you.” He laughs again knowing he
could right now with just the barest nudge of his powers on the straps… “But it
doesn’t matter. No, I should be apologizing to you, my little mouse. Everything
I ever did to bring us closer has led to this moment. Now you are way over
there.” He strains with his hands towards Charles.
“And I’m staying over here,” says Charles. “Until you tell me what I want to
know.”
“Oh that’s just mean, Charles.” He pouts and looks out the glass at the
Wolverine. He doesn’t think they can hear him but he taunts anyway. “Does he
treat you this badly?” Erik turns back to Charles. “I bet you treat him
horribly. Do you make him beg or do you pretend he’s me?” He watches as
Charles’s face start to blush and pushes on. “You do, don’t you? I do. Pretend
I’m with you, I mean.” He smiles.
Charles looks flustered in his seat, but he’s doing an admirable job of acting
composed. “Enough, Erik. I’m not interested in drawing this out with insults
and abuse. Tell me what I want to know now and you can be promised a quick and
quiet death. I’ll even let you choose your demise. Just like Uncle Danny.”
Erik raises brow, “Uncle?” He can’t recall either of them ever calling him
that.
Charles looks far away for moment before he returns with a sad look. He wipes
his eyes and shakes his head before looking at Erik again. “Think of it, Erik.
You spent years and years and manipulating and abusing me. You stole from me.
Even at my wedding…” He looks away before standing up. He moves to stand over
Erik, confidant. “You owe me Erik. You owe me something after everything you
took from me. Can’t you be a decent human being for real? Not just some
Pygmalion of a good man. I use to imagine what life would be like if you were
different. It got me through those dark days with you.”
“Dark days,” Erik scoffs. “What darkness? What stealing? I let you get away
with murder. Literally. I let you do as you pleased, and the only thanks I got
was plots and lies from you. Killing my mother.”
“You did that!” Charles moves away, backing to the door. “You killed poor Edie
in your bloodlust. I wanted to save her!”
“Save her from what? Her husband, her own son?”
“Her monsters!” Charles screams. Darwin and Wolverine look more alert but
Charles waves a hand at them, dismissing their worry. He paces the room, his
hands crossed and face growing redder. “You let Shaw turn you into a monster.
She knew that. She was afraid of you, Erik. She had every right to be.”
Erik rolls his eyes, “She was coward.” He looks away from Charles and doesn’t
think of the gloating god or Emma and their ridiculous false memories. “And I
didn’t want you to follow in her footsteps, Charles. She turned her back on the
people that really loved her. She cowed, she scraped, she begged. I wanted you
to be my equal. I gave you freedom and I put you a pedestal. I wanted to show
you off to the world-“
“You raped me! In my sleep! In my bed, in your bed, in the shower, on the
floor! You stole from me, Erik! You killed the woman I loved! Without you and
your obsession, my family would be alive right now!” Charles cries out and goes
to the glass. The Wolverine raises a hand they stand in front of each other,
hands hovering near the glass.
Erik supposes that’s what support between man and pet must look like. It looks
stupid to him and he says so. “And he’s your brawny shoulder to cry on now?
That animal.”
Charles sniffles before looking back Erik, “This animal never took anything
from me. I never had to put on an act for him. I’m not scared of him.”
Erik grins, “You weren’t scared of me either, remember? And now, after all that
time denying it, it turns out you like cock.” He smirks, “Perhaps my Father was
right. I should have given you more time to come around naturally. You’re not a
tease any more are you darling? You’re the Rent Boy who be King.”
Charles slowly smiles at Erik. It’s not the response he expected from the man.
Erik sees a glimmer of that being behind his eyes. Charles goes to the door and
opens it, “I didn’t expect you to cooperate. You never really loved me.” He
smiles thinly, “Don’t expect to see me again Erik. Not until you’re standing in
front of a firing squad.”
Erik watches as the love of his life walks out the door. He crosses in front of
the mirror and gestures for the Wolverine to follow him. The hairy man obeys
but not before turning on Erik with a single blade splitting up through closed
fist.
Erik would return the gesture, but… well he’s still pretending.
He’s left alone for some time, still strapped to the chair.
Erik doesn’t know what time it is but he assumes it’s been a couple of hours.
Little Warren the third comes in with a bemused expression on his face. “I can
see why you’d let Charles drive you to ruin. His ass is probably worth it.” The
man shrugs, shifting his angel wings so he can fit into the doorway. There is
no one else around. Not even the vigilant Captain Munoz. The man slinks over,
“I have a gift for you.”
Erik watches the man pluck a feather from the top of his right wing, then one
the edge of this left. He sits them down near the glass. “Tell me you didn’t
come in here to molt,” says Erik a little disgusted with the display.
The man laughs, “That’s so funny. I’ve never heard that before.” He levels Erik
with a look that says he has. “Besides this is how we get you out, Magneto.”
He lays the feathers near the glass and touches each of them in the center.
Before Erik’s eyes, the feathers transmute into metal blades. Erik tries not to
be impressed. Or jealous. “How did you do that?”
Warren grins broadly at him while ducking back out the doorway. “Just use them
as you like. Leave the palace before sun up. Charles was going to come back
down to see you in the morning.”
Its Erik turn to smile, “He said he wouldn’t see me again until my execution.
Where is he?”
Warren shrugs leaving the way he came, “I hear he’s taking a break with his
partner.” He smiles cruelly at Erik and waves goodbye before he leaves.
Erik sits in the chair and waits.
His Charles is here. Nearby and doing god knows what. Charles whoring himself
to women is one thing, he thinks. It’s quite another for him so blatantly cheat
on their bond. He was the first and should be Charles’s only. Escaping would be
the practical thing to do. Finding out why the false god wants him here would
be better. Perhaps he can make it back to Mama’s house without being noticed.
Charles thinks he’s in control because he’s surrounded by guards. He’s
obviously unaware of the traitors in his house. He thinks he can trust them
all. He’s left himself vulnerable. Erik knows there’s no camera in his
improvised jail cell. He uses his powers to remover the collar, floating away
from his neck as he repairs it. He shakes off the straps and stands up. It’s
hard to summon the feathers. He can’t tell what kind of metal they are, being
born from something organic. He shifts them into two knives and opens the door.
He doesn’t expect to find Captain Munoz on the floor, just outside the lab
doors. The man is wearing one of the collars Essex had him fashion and he’s
bleeding from a head wound. Then he finds McCoy in a similar state near an open
window. There’s bloody smears around the window frame. This is a fine work, he
thinks. He’s going to be framed for all of this. Erik has to shrug off feeling
indignant about it. He’s grown used to being the bad guy by now.
He slips out the window, assuming it was how he was supposed to escape. There’s
a large open yard in this part of palace. The remains of some building are
several yards away.
He turns back to window, wondering if he should leave it open. There another
bloody smear, but just above the window. He backs up and sees a good place to
scale up to the roof. He looks across the buildings, this wing is only three
stories high, but most of the palace is five or six stories high. There’s four
watch towers, just inside the wall at every corner. He ducks down and runs
across the roof. A set of bloody footprints leads to the bodies of a couple of
guards. Wyvern and a woman named Lydia. He remembers having a good time with
Wyvern but Lydia insisted she was only interested in Emma. So he forgive her
once for almost biting his dick off. They were both terrible lays, he thinks.
He passes them and continues over the rooftop.
He knows Charles’s room is near the center of the palace, just outside the
Great Hall. The walls are suspiciously unguarded. No one looks at him from
ramparts or sounds the alarm. No one comes after him from the lab. Poor
Charles, he thinks. The man has no idea how exposed he is in this place. His
guards made up of whores and traitors. Erik would have built him a fortress.
His Berlin tower was defensible and perfectly suited to protect the telepath
from inept security. But Charles has probably destroyed it, just like the
Hellfire club. Charles rather live here, in a public headquarters surrounded by
common rabble.
Erik rolls his eyes, just thinking of his pig-headed beloved. He runs across
the roof and track Charles down. Feeling out for that hairbrush again, he finds
it after jumping across roof after roof. He crosses over to the building in the
center of the palace carefully. He can’t just go into the room. Not without
knowing where Charles is inside. Blue and white curtains billow out from the
balcony. One of the doors knocked out by Angel has fallen on the rails. Erik
lets himself down quietly, hovering just over the balcony before crouching down
behind the broken door. He can easily hear inside the room.
Thump, thump, thump.
Erik’s eyes twitch and he looks through a hole in the door, unwilling to give
up his cover.
Thump, thump, thump.
A small couch has replaced the shattered bed. Charles sits in the lap of
Wolverine, still wearing his dress shirt from earlier. His blue tie is wrapped
around his wrists and the larger man fucks up into his half naked body. One of
his big hands grips Charles by the hip, the other in his hair holding the crown
in place. Charles lets the man throw him onto his back, spread his legs and
drive into him again and again. All the while Charles is moaning with his mouth
slack and his eyes closed. “Logan, oh god… Oh yes! Please, please. Harder,
Logan. Oh god, yes!”
Erik has to clamp down on his impulse to pull every shred of metal from the
hairy man’s body. His breathing quickens and he feels like his chest is caving
in. The last time he felt this broken hearted he killed Charles. But there’s no
Daniel or a miracle cure to bring him back this time. No one to heal his broken
neck. And a world without Charles Xavier, he thinks…
Thump, thump, thump.
He grits his teeth as he sees the little couch they sit on continues to pound
against the wall. Charles continues moan like a whore and the beastly little
man continues fucking.
Charles’s bound hands work around the man’s neck. He pulls himself up and
finally opens his eyes, “Come on, Logan. There, please… Yes!” He pants and
gasps as he comes with the other man’s hand on his cock. Charles slumps forward
while the man keeps moving his hips. Erik is too furious to hide himself
properly when the younger man looks at him through the hole.
Erik is not expecting the smile on Charles’s face and feels frozen. Charles
moans again, but more theatrically. He throws his head back and arches his
back, letting Wolverine finish.
Erik is almost thankful when the man seizes up and finally comes. Leaving
Charles a dripping mess as he gets up without ceremony, and walks into the
bathroom. Charles stays put for a moment. His legs spread open and a dazed look
on his face. The crown askew, but still on his head.
Charles reaches down to between his legs, idly cupping his balls and stroking
his soft cock before he looks at the door again. He smiles, and the look is so
dark and brazen Erik wonders if he’s really looking at the false god.
Logan walks back in with wet towel and throws it on the younger man’s chest.
“That’s for calling me a porcupine!”
Charles laughs, his whole body shaking. Erik is sure he’s never seen the man so
amused. And comfortable. And sated. The whole scene makes his teeth hurt.
Charles is smiling, his eyes bright. “Be a dear and go fetch my notes from the
library?”
“The library?” The man tilts his head looking at the balcony and Erik ducks
behind the door, not breathing.
“Yes,” continues Charles. “I have to get some work done tonight and thanks to
you, I can’t walk straight.”
Erik almost knocks his head on the railing but holds himself still again. He
can hear the Wolverine sniffing the air. “You smell that?”
Charles sighs, “We’ll shower later. I’ve at least another go in me.”
Wolverine laughs, “Alright then, Captain. I’ll hold you to that promise. I’ll
get your shit, and then round two.”
“Work first!” Calls out Charles.
Erik waits a few breathes before checking again. When he looks through the hole
his met with a bright blue eye. He falls back, hitting his head and fumbling
behind the door as Charles laughs at him. He stands up awkwardly questioning
everything he’s ever known. This moment shouldn’t exist, he thinks. Not after
everything they’ve been through. “Are you real?” He asks. “Are you the
imposter?”
Charles gives him that slow smile again, his eyes focused on Erik. “I knew you
would come.” He rushes over, and pulls the Erik into a kiss. “I knew it.”
Erik is left feeling more confused, “Are you real!” He shakes the smaller man
in his arms and Charles has the audacity to laugh.
“Of course I’m real. And I need you Erik.”
 
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry for the wait, this was a frustrating chapter, the ending could
     have gone like three different ways. I'm so mad at them right now.
***** The Mission *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                          Gray_City,_Utopia_May_1967
                                        
Erik looks confounded.
Good, thinks Charles. That’s very good.
If his calculations are correct it should take Logan another three minutes to
walk to the private library down the hall. Then he’ll have another thirty
minutes as the man realizes Charles meant the public library down the street.
He can work with this. He’s already mostly naked, as Erik prefers him. He’s
been thoroughly fucked, and he’s sure he makes quite a sight to the man.
Erik confirms this as he stares at him, his mouth hanging open. “What kind of
game are you playing with me now, you imposter?”
A cold feeling sinks into Charles’s heart. Imposter? That’s like stamping ‘The
Great Patriarch was here’ on his forehead. Charles is certain now that the
Living God is responsible for all the discord. Erik breaking into the Gray
Palace. Erik re-powered. Erik allowed to amass a following. He tries not to let
the revelation shock him. Instead he does what comes naturally when dealing
with Erik.
He wills himself to cry. “I need you Erik,” he says blinking up at the man. “I
need your help. I don’t know what else to do. I’m in so deep now. Everything is
out of control. I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
Erik frowns, “This is working then? The false god has no power over you?” He
reaches out to the inhibitor but Charles snatches away.
“Don’t! I need it to keep him silent.” He whispers as if he were afraid of
being caught, “He’s using my friends against me. I don’t know who to trust
anymore. I’m so scared Erik. I’ve never been more scared.” He sobs and turns
his back on the man. The key to manipulating Erik is still honesty. Letting the
man see him vulnerable or wanting. Letting Erik think Charles is being genuine.
For that to work, he always has to be honest. And honestly, he is terrified of
the Great Patriarch right now.
Erik sighs, “I can never tell what’s real with you, Charles. What do you want
from me that you’d go to so much trouble for that little display, hmm?” He
looks angry, but Erik is being surprisingly disciplined. Charles is still
shocked that Logan walked out of the room intact.
Charles sniffles and shakes head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I
didn’t set anything up.” He says. He merely knew Erik would seek him tonight.
He wondered if someone was crazy enough to release him. Only Erik would try to
see him again before really leaving. The stupid man, he thinks. Still, Erik may
serve a purpose now, and for that to work he needs to work on the man’s
sympathy. What little of it there is, he amends. He focuses on making his eyes
round and sticking out his lower lip, adding a little wobble for substance.
Erik looks unimpressed, but Charles knows this man. He’s probably hardening in
his pants right now.
“I’ve suspected someone close to me is working for the Great Patriarch. I think
he lies to me. He lies about his goals and what he wants from me. He lies and
he… he steals time from me. The person working with him doesn’t care about
bettering the world or setting things right again. They want the Living God
crowned King of the world.”
Erik reaches out again and this time Charles allows him to touch the metal
circlet. He leans in with his head and Erik’s expression softens before he
steels himself again. “Didn’t you just call yourself ‘king of the bloody
world’?” He smirks, “Not happy to find you’re merely a puppet? My poor little
mouse.” He leans forward but Charles evades him.
“I’m am mouse now,” he sobs. “I’m trapped in a maze. I don’t know which way to
turn… But you.” He turns to Erik looks the man in the eye, “I know you would do
anything to defend me. To keep me for yourself. If there’s anything I can count
on, it’s your obsession.” He acts like he’s suddenly uncomfortable. Pretends
he’s only just noticed his state of undress. He tries to close up his shirt and
moves to his closet looking for something to put on.
Erik stays near balcony, smirking. “How stupid do you think I am?”
The answer if Charles voiced it, would be ‘very’.
“Do you think I’m going to believe any of this bullshit? Just because you flash
me a little ass? I could have I torn that animal apart just now…”
Charles stands up, shrugging out of his shirt. “He’s not so bad. At least he
listens to me.” He puts on a new pair of sweatpants and a one of Logan’s
flannel shirts. Erik looks completely disgusted when he turns around. Charles
can’t help laughing at the man. “He actually gives a damn about me. Not just
possessing me like I were his prized doll.”
“I wanted you by my side,” snarls Erik. “I loved you, Charles. Despite
everything you did, I still love you.”
Charles tries to calm himself. Hearing the man declare his love will always
draw a violent reaction from him. He wants to take the chair and break it
across Erik’s head. Instead he sits down. Focuses on his mission. “I need you,”
he repeats. It is what Erik always wanted to hear. “I need you to tell me
truth. Starting with your powers. How did you get them back?”
Erik extends his hand and Charles can feel the inhibitor slipping up his skull.
He quickly raises his hands to hold the thing on. Erik starts grinning at him,
“What if I told you, that parasite did this to me?”
Charles would believe that, but he doesn’t understand why. “What does he want
from you? It was you who shot Stryker and Trask. You may as well admit it.” He
sits up straighter, trying to speak with some authority. “And you had that poor
child framed! I know he was with you in Kiev. Do any of your followers know
your name, Erik? Does that poor girl?”
Erik grins, “It’s not so fun is it? Watching me pretend to settle down with
some human woman. Now you see how I felt when you took that whore to Bastogne…”
“Shut up, Erik. This isn’t remotely the same. I was not pretending. I was
happily married and didn’t even know you existed. You are using that poor
girl…” He sighs. He’s getting off track. “What does the Great Patriarch want
from you? Are there other’s here working for him? How did you escape from the
labs?”
Erik turns away and looks at the sky. Stars are already twinkling and the sun
hasn’t finished setting. “It was the Angel,” says the man carelessly. “He set
me free. He has his hands on the collars I produced for his father.”
Charles stands up, “What!”
Erik smiles softly at him, “Didn’t know about that?”
Charles shakes his head, actually dumbfounded. “I can’t use my powers. But
Tessa can. We can rebuild Cerebro and find out what’s going on.” He leads.
Erik grins, even laughs. “I wouldn’t trust that four-eyed traitor, Charles.
He’s a lot like Daniel used to be.”
Charles drops his head in his hands. He feels trapped, he thinks. But this
information has galvanized him with new purpose. He stands up and moves over to
Erik, surprising the man with a kiss. “Thank you for this Erik. Now I need
something from you.”
Erik licks his bottom lip. His eyes are glazed over with lust. He’s still easy
to play, and Charles almost thinks it’s a shame he was already fucked this
evening. He pushes away the thoughts Tessa would call ‘unhealthy’.
“When you escape the Palace, I want you to keep your distance. And if the
forces working for En Sabah Nur call on you again, call my office here. Tell my
assistant you have a message for me concerning the… theater tickets. We can…”
He swallows a thick lump in his throat. His moral compass is going haywire and
the little voice of his conscience is screaming in his ear. But he has to do
this, he thinks. Take back control on every front of the war. And General
Magneto will be his knight from now on. “We can arrange to meet somewhere
then.”
Erik grabs Charles by the shoulders, his hands sliding up to his neck. Charles
is trembling by the time the man’s long fingers have wrapped around his throat.
Erik leans down to breathe in behind his ear. He mustn’t like what smells
because he snatches away as if he were burnt. “That fucking animal…”
“Erik, please.” Charles blinks away fresh tears. This grip on his neck is
hardly a kind reminder of how things ended before. “Let me go. You have to get
out of here. Before they find you’ve escaped. Go on.”
Erik squeezes once before letting go. Charles watches as the man steps back to
the balcony, then simply floats away.
 
A month later Charles is telling fresh lies to the press.
It’s not his favorite thing to do, but he’s comfortable with being charming. He
deals with a small panel of reporters and journalists. Aaron Ibrahim, a
brilliant young woman named Philippa Schuyler, Barbara Walters, and Peter
Jennings. Aaron is the moderator of the little event. Charles has made sure to
make him the authority, even when dealing when his more experienced colleagues.
Having a former dissenter in hand may be advantageous, he thinks.
Barbara and Philippa seems hell bent on focusing on the atrocities committed by
the former regimes. Young Philippa asks him if he’s aware that one of his
councilmen is heir to a company that enslaves humans and mutants for labor.
Barbara asks if the treaties Shaw made with the Soviet are still solvent. And
if so, does he condone the State’s policy on nullifying the powers of mutant
dissenters. Charles has to pull out every ounce of his charm to sway the women.
Even then, he’s sure they’re planning to tear the palace apart for the truth.
If he were the young man he used to be, he muses, he’s certain he would have
tried to get one or both of them into bed. Ms. Philippa gives him a
particularly unimpressed look, and there Charles is certain he would have
failed. Whereas Barbara flirts back with him… He finds that a little unnerving
actually. Like flirting with a tiger.
Ibrahim does an admirable job of keeping everyone in line. Even Charles.
Charles isn’t sure about Mr. Jennings at first. He thinks the handsome young
man is probably more concerned about his side part being neat. But in a
surprising swing he asks about the tributes, despite there being a tight clause
to not speak of them.
“I understand we aren’t to question the tributes, sir.” He starts, “But may I
ask for the public’s peace of mind, what exactly did we deliver to you this
last year. If it was nothing that would cause our nations grief, then why are
you still hiding it, insisting we can’t talk about it even now?” He brazenly
stares at Charles.
Someone behind the cameras panic and calls for them to cut the feed but Charles
raises a hand, stilling everyone. He looks at the man earnestly and tells him,
“The tributes were important to the Great Patriarch. To him, they were a sign
of retribution from a world that had forgotten about honor. A assure you, they
cost nothing from the people. And were a small price to pay from the
governments responsible for genocide, mutant experimentation, and war
mongering. I will not discuss it further as I’ve agreed to honor our allies.”
Jennings looks unsatisfied with the answer but Ibrahim steers the questions
back to the elections. “Your sister has been hitting the campaign trail. Is
this transition of power merely a show? Are you giving the crown to another
Xavier?”
Charles laughs, “My sister has no desire to hold public office. She has always
had a passion for organizing change. And little for the paperwork thereafter.”
That wins a laugh and some levity before Ms. Philippa interjects, “She’s been
arrested seventeen times since 1960…”
The rest of the telecast goes well enough.
The topic of elections is kept in the forefront. Charles endorses several
people, including two humans. That doesn’t stop NBC from airing footage from
the time right after the Wakening. People milling around in terror and shock.
Cities destroyed, families torn apart. They contrast it to the present day.
Dissention in the former mutant states, threats of war from the Allied Forces
of Freed Europe and North America. The American broadcasters refuse to call the
Former Mutant States, Utopia.
Charles turns off his television and tries to get up from the little couch in
his sitting room. Night and Day have decided to nest on his feet and lap. Night
is sleeping, whimpering as she dreams in his lap. Day was watching TV, and now
stares up Charles. As if to say, ‘human turn that box back on’. Charles would
humor her, but he’s tired now. He’s had a long day. And tomorrow is going to be
longer. He gets up carefully but the dogs still stir and follow him to his
desk. There he eyes an envelope written in his new assistant’s hand. It only
says, ‘Tickets, VIP’ and Charles dreads opening the thing.
He sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, almost missing the knock at the
door. Hank and Dr. Stephen Strange come in without permission. Stephen is a
handsome, older man. He carries himself with an air of mystery and everything
he seems to do or say rankles Hank’s nerves.
Hank apologizes for their entry, “Sorry, Charles. He insisted on seeing you,
now. I thought you were already in bed.”
Stephen ignores Hank as he walks straight up to Charles. He braces the younger
man’s face with his hands, “I just want to be sure you are healing probably. It
was an exhaustive surgery. I’m so glad we could minimalize its outward
appearance.” He thumbs over Charles’s temples. The only indicators that he has
surgery is the thin lines of scar tissue on top of old scars, all covered in
hair.
“Thank you for not shaving my head. Hank is always trying to do that.” He
smirks and his old friend blushes near the doorway.
“I am not always trying to shave your head. I merely wanted the connection…”
“No,” interrupts Stephen. “I think it would be better if we left the patient
alone. He needs his rest.” He turns back to Charles. “But tomorrow, I want a
full exam. Tessa is terribly worried about the long-term effects on a mutant
wearing inhibitors. Especially when your gift has been expanded so much.”
Charles nods, “I’m fine. “Just make sure she and Vincent are okay. I’ll see you
in the morning Doctor.” He leads the man to the door and shows them both out.
Hank hangs behind, still wearing a betrayed look on his face.
“I could have handled the surgeries. As your chief medical officer,” he starts.
Charles has heard this all month. He’s still handling Hank carefully, unsure if
the man was merely manipulative by the Great Patriarch or really betraying
Charles.
“As my friend,” he corrects. “There would have been a conflict of interest.
Good night, Hank.” He closes the door and tries not to think of how unsettled
he feels around Hank now.
Before he can get to his new bed, the doors slam open again. Night and Day rush
past him to heel at Logan’s feet. They wait patiently as the man reaches into
the pockets of his leather jacket. He presents them both with treats. They each
snap up their biscuits from his hands before taking up the same position, their
long tails thumping on the floor.
“Get lost, you spoiled brats. I’m ‘bout to do something freaky to your boss.”
The dogs whimper and Charles lets out a laugh, “Sometimes I think they
understand you.”
Logan looks pointedly at the door, “If they understood they’d be out of here.”
The dogs whimper before scampering out the door. Night trots back to yap at
Logan before turning her tail on him and leaving. Charles assumes they’ll find
Lydia and spend the night learning how to maul reporters. This is an improvised
family of dogs and wild men, he thinks with a smile. He wonders if Logan is
doing it consciously.
Logan was not kidding about his intentions. He’s already undressing himself as
walks toward Charles. The younger man raises a hand. “Wait. I still have some
business to attend to…” He looks at the desk and the envelope. “I might be back
late tonight.”
“Not with the day you’re having tomorrow.” He tosses his coat on the floor and
pushes Charles back toward the bedroom. “Doc Weirdo prescribed a healthy amount
of sleep before he checks you out. I’m here to make sure you’re good and
loose,” he grins with all his teeth. “So to speak.”
Charles lets the man move him to the bed, only to duck away at the last second.
The new bed is a simple king-sized bed with white sheets. He’s not sure why,
but after an hour of playing cat and mouse they end up in the bed, wrapped
around each other and sweaty. Charles tries to stifle his laughter afterwards,
hiding his face in Logan’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong with you?” Logan grins down at him, “Excited about getting naked
on a cold exam table. Hell we should try that sometime… once…   There was a
good…”
Charles frowns and sits up, staring down at Logan. He can hear bits and pieces,
but his senses are going haywire. It’s happened twice since he asked for the
experimental implants. One moment Logan is looking up at with a frown, the next
Charles is staring at a vague, gray impression. Then only the pillow. He shakes
his head to try to clear it. Logan even shakes his shoulder. Charles finally
explains, “It’s almost over I think. I think…” He can feel Logan nearby but he
can’t see or hear him.
It’s the life he’ll have to settle for, he tells himself.
He simply can’t afford to let En Sabah Nur touch his mind again. Not until he
knows for certain what’s going on.
By the time his vision clears and his ears start working again, he’s lying on
his side, tucked under one of Logan’s heavy arms. He gets up and looks at the
clock on the bedside table. It’s already after two in the morning. And Erik is
expecting him in less than twenty-four hours.
Charles feels sick just thinking about the message in the other room.
Logan hums behind him, throwing a leg over Charles. It makes Charles smile. The
hairy leg, is scratchy and heavy with the extra metal behind his skin. Charles
tries to turn around but doesn’t get very far. He closes his eyes and
concentrates on his breathing.
 
By noon the next day he’s given a clean bill of health.
Stephen is still wary and Tessa thinks the reported side effects are too much.
After he explained the Great Patriarch’s betrayal she and Vincent both agreed
to block the powerful being as well. Their powers are more easily managed. Hank
explained that she was an early test subject for Cerebro, back when the CIA let
Stryker do anything to accomplish their goals. Her powers weren’t expanded, but
her brain was used like computer when Hank first collected data on the way a
telepath’s mind work. In the early days Hank had apologized for his role, but
swore he had nothing to do her mutilation.
For now wearing the inhibitor when she sleeps is enough to keep her from
slipping into the Astral Plane.
Vincent was altered after years of being drained for En Sabah Nur’s blood.
Charles was careful to ask him to sacrifice his powers. The man’s reaction had
been surprisingly agreeable. He has the experimental inhibitors, too. But he
hasn’t experienced the same side effects as Charles.
Charles is alone, according to Stephen. The telepath helped draw up the plans
for Erik’s devices from memory, but Hank and Stephen both agreed his new
inhibitors would have to be far more powerful. Without Erik’s fine control of
his ability, there’s no one to help get the scale of the technology right. So
he has to deal with the feeling of two large flat plates of metal under his
scalp.
He is in no hurry to see Erik again, completely vulnerable and now marked with
so much metal.
After the exam he’s given new prescriptions for the pain and some kind of
herbal mixture. Stephen hopes it’ll help with his episodes of sensory
blackouts.
Logan is off doing security checks with the new guards at the wall. Darwin has
retired Lila’s old crew, in a very respectful manner. They’re still looking
into who helped Warren take down the Palace defenses. Besides the
assassinations, and having Magneto on the loose, the administration of the Gray
Palace is preparing for the elections. Nothing is expected of Charles in the
next few days as candidates from every State in Utopia come forward to press
for their campaigns. So Charles heads back to his room with everything the
doctors gave him. Raven stops him ask about his security detail. He smiles at
her and tells her an easy lie.
Charles looks at his new injection kit and laughs before backing it in an
overnight bag.
He checks the table in the den ‘theater tickets’ and opens the envelope.
He sighs, thinking he’s never been fond of James Bond.
Chapter End Notes
     I know Benedict is playing Stephen Strange in the MCU, but in my head
     (thanks to tumblr lies) it’s always gonna be Oded Fehr. That fine,
     fine, fine mummy killing man.
***** Live and Let Die *****
                          Gray_City,_Utopia_June_1967
                                        
All packed, he pops into his office to let his new assistant, Mr. Reeves know
he’ll be out for the day. The young man stammers before getting his agenda and
clearing it with a single line through his appointments. He smiles back at
Charles, obediently. Charles suddenly misses Angel Salvador more than he
thought he would.
Convincing Darwin to let him leave with an overnight bag is harder than he
thought it would be.
“I’ll be fine.   I just need a night away from all this. You and Raven have
everything under control. I just need a little air. And some time to myself,”
he pleads. It’s unfortunate for him Darwin’s gift makes him immune to pouty
faces and eye-batting. Charles leans on his friend, hopefully appearing as
exhausted as he feels. “Just one night, Armando.” He opens his jacket and
reveals his gun and knife. “I’m not going unarmed. I’ll can take care of
myself. I really do need a break. Please?”
Darwin merely rolls his eyes. “See this,” he holds up a hand rubs together his
index finger and thumb. “The world’s smallest violin, playing Hearts and
Flowers.”
Charles backs away and slaps the man on the chest, “Fuck off, Darwin! I’m being
serious. I need some time to myself. I never get out of the Palace anymore. I’m
going mad with this…” He gestures to his head, “And I just need to relax for a
little while. Is that so much to ask?”
“Your psycho paramour is out on the town, remember? Warren is still acting like
he didn’t put a fucking collar on my neck. Hank is… Hell I honestly don’t know
what to do with him. How am I supposed to let you out of the gates with just a
bag and a promise to bring me back popcorn?”
Charles gives up on being a sneaky bastard. He pulls Armando to the side and
whispers in the man’s ears, “Look its important. I can’t give you the details
right now, but I’m on a mission.” He pleads with his eyes again.
Darwin rolls his own eyes, “A mission to make it downtown?”
Charles feels a blush running up his neck and cheeks. He can’t say, ‘Erik
Lehnsherr is working for me as a spy’. That would get him tied up in his room.
And not in the good way. Instead he looks around, “I’m meeting with someone who
might have more information about who killed N’Dare. I have a plan all laid
out. But it won’t work if I walk into the hotel and I have a team of bodyguards
tailing me. I have to be inconspicuous, Armando!”
Darwin leans down to butt his head gently against Charles’s own. It gives him
pause enough to stop lying and pay attention to his friend. “Charles. You are
not in your right mind. I know you’ve been through a lot, but giving yourself a
mission and field work is not… Charles you’re not a soldier anymore.” He sighs
and wraps his arms around Charles, pulling the smaller man close. “And I’m not
going to let you put yourself in danger. I dropped the ball last month when
that magnetized prick escaped. If anything happens to you, it’s my fault.”
Charles would rather not cry. He’s trying to be an active agent, after all. Men
on missions don’t cry and sob on the shoulders of their friends. He sniffles a
little and wipes his eyes before looking up at Darwin. “It wasn’t your fault. I
need this information before we can arrest Warren properly. Then there will be
a trial for him and the other conspirators. But I need this evidence. And I’m
the only one who can get it. Just trust me, Armando.”
Darwin shakes his head, and gives Charles a squeeze before kissing him on the
head. “You’re so fucking nuts, Captain. Remember that time you stuck a pickle
up your ass?” He laughs, not knowing the truth of that story. So Charles only
smiles back at him. Darwin sighs, “Don’t blame me if this little plan of yours
gets FUBAR.”
Charles squeezes him back and someone in main foyer whistles and cat calls,
“Get a room!”
Charles feels another blush on his face as he backs away. “Tell Logan I’ll see
him in the morning. He’s not to track me down or anything.”
Darwin scratches his chin as he looks thoughtfully at the front doors. “Nah…. I
think I’ll tell him, you have 24 hours to do what you think you have to do. If
you’re not back in the council room by this time tomorrow, I’m sending Logan,
the dogs, and Havok after you.” He stands to attention and snaps off a salute.
“Permission to abscond, granted. Captain Xavier.”
Charles mimics him and salutes as well. “Thank you, Captain Munoz.” He turns on
his heel and marches out of the Palace.
Once outside the doors, Charles walks briskly to the gates. Lydia and Wyvern
run up to him. “Sir what are you doing?” They were retained as assets despite
Erik’s escape. Though, their duties have been scaled back. And only Darwin’s
soldiers man the walls now.
Charles gives them both a beaming smile, while patting his bag. “I’m just going
for a walk up to the public library. I owe Mr. Conner many, many overdue books.
I’ll be back in a little while. Darwin is sending a car for me later.”
They each look a little worried, but Charles can still count on a soldier’s
need to please a superior officer. They let him pass without calling for a
guard, but he hears Lydia radioing the wall. She asks someone to keep an eye on
the Venerable Host as he walks up to the library. Charles looks up and sees a
shadowy figure disappear. Great he thinks. One of the teleporters is going to
tail him. He can’t tell them to break protocol now, it would look suspicious.
All he can do is hope that Darwin will keep this quiet.
He makes it to the library after a ten minute walk and goes inside to call a
cab.
Without his powers it’s nearly impossible to spot the teleporter. He suspects
it’s a woman named Veil. She has a talent for staying out of sight.
Still he hopes she leaves him alone when he gets in the cab. 
His ride comes and he hurries to it. When Erik called his office yesterday, he
suggested they really meet in a movie theater. Charles went along with it to
get off the phone. The tickets were sent to the office by messenger and he had
Mr. Reeves reserve him a room in the new Hilton.
He tries to relax in the seat. He plans to go the hotel first and check in and
set up. He packed one of Hank’s metal detectors, knowing now that Erik has a
history of spying on him with hidden cameras. He’ll have time to sweep his room
before getting to the theater and making sure he can’t be kidnapped in the
dark. He wouldn’t put it pass Erik to try.
Everything goes according to plan after he gets to the hotel. He finds no
cameras or microphones. He changes and showers without incident. He makes it to
the movies, dressed like he was going to the premiere. James Bond is one of
Erik’s favorites. He feels a little like James Bond, he thinks. If everything
goes well, he’ll have the information he needs. And for his own peace mind, he
is seriously thinking about killing Erik tonight.
He sets up his room for just that. Ceramic knife under the pillow. A length of
rope in the bathroom. He thought it about all night, and decided that
strangling Erik holds a certain appeal. He pockets an army issued garrote and
the tickets and calls another cab.
Erik would know better than to meet out front, he hopes. He gets inside and
scowls at the marquee. “You Only live Twice,” says the ticket girl, “It’s so
good! There’s ninjas and everything!”
Charles frowns at the child just as she recognizes him. He raises a finger to
his lips, “Shh.” He winks before he walks away, “I’d hate to miss the ninjas
and everything.” He walks away but he can tell she’s swooning, even without his
powers. He mentally pats himself on the back. At least teenaged girls still
find him attractive. He’s been swing and miss with women lately. He’s started
to think Erik left some kind of mark on him that makes women more wary of him.
Maybe they know what he’s done just by looking at him.
Just thinking of that makes his stomach turn but he has to focus on his
mission. Charles has never been here. This theater has string of private
balcony’s lining the back wall. His reserved seats are just to the right of the
projector. The dark space puts him on guard. He fingers the line of rope and
wooden handles in his pocket. His hands shake, but he sits down anyway.
Erik takes his sweet time arriving. He comes in during the previews and smiles
down at Charles as the theme music starts. He’s dressed casually in a jeans and
t-shirt. A hat sitting askew on his head. He’s actually carrying little tray of
popcorn and soda. He offers a bag and cup to Charles.
“No thank you, Erik. I rather not be drugged and raped tonight.” He smiles
tightly, “We can make this quick. Tell me something valuable and I can just
leave you here to watch Sean Connery fuck his way through Japan.”
Erik raises a brow, “That’s a bit salty, coming from the man who fucked his way
through three continents.”
“Shut up, Erik.” Charles feels uncomfortable with their banter. The screen is
an explosion of color and noise as Nancy Sinatra wails on about living once for
yourself and once for your dreams. Charles muses, he’s dream life was over so
quickly, all thanks to this man.
Erik shrugs as settles in his seat. There’s a little table for his tray and a
convenient little trash bin. Erik tosses his ticket stubs before turning to
Charles. “I’m glad you came all dressed up. It’s a little warm for a suit
though. Take off your jacket…” He smiles before reaching over.
Charles tries not to flinch, imagining the helmet Erik’s hand. “Stop. Just tell
me what’s happened. Did they contact you again? Who’s giving the orders for the
Great Patriarch now?”
Erik stretches out his long legs, “Straight to business, Charles? Can’t we just
enjoy ourselves for a couple of hours?”
Charles kicks the legs out from the table, spilling all of Erik’s things, “I’m
not playing with you, Erik. You’ve put yourself on my payroll. That’s the only
reason you’re still alive. I can have you killed at any moment.”
Erik doesn’t even look at him as the film starts properly. He grins, “So you
say, Charles. Still I’m alive. And suffering too. Have you ever dealt with a
pregnant woman on the run? Terribly annoying. What is the purpose of cravings
anyway? To make sure a father can provide,” he looks at Charles for a reaction.
Charles feels something in his chest clamp up, “That poor girl. You fucking
monster.”
Erik laughs, “Oh it’s not mine. Still, she’s being such a cow about it. How
about you, Charles? How have you been this last month?” He reaches down to tidy
the mess, “A little civility doesn’t hurt.”
Charles breathes through his nose. He should have known it be impossible to
just bully Erik. Fine, he thinks. He can still play along. “Civility never
suited you, Erik. Why can’t you just cooperate? I told you my life was in
danger. If you loved me at all you’d give a damn.” He tries playing on the
man’s obsession.
Erik gives him a look and he almost feels embarrassed for himself. “You know
how I feel about you.” He raises a hand to his own temples, “You know very
well. And I know you are a manipulative little schemer. You don’t think you
love me back because you’re just being contrary, Charles. But I know you do.”
He smirks before turning back to the screen. “We’re going to discuss the terms
of this arrangement. I will feed you information for your regime to act on, and
help you to stay safe. You will stop treating me like I’m the boogey man. Take
my name off the most wanted list. I’m tired of hiding Charles. Offer me
pardon.”
“The fuck!” Charles sits up even straighter, “You have got to be joking! You
are a war criminal! You set up Italy to fall just so you start a coup against
Shaw! You killed thousands of innocent men, women and children in those camps.
I have to live in the shadow of all the evil you and your Father committed. I
have to answer to it. I will not pardon you of the crimes you committed.”
Erik sneers, “I wanted to build a better world, Charles. You of all people
should know that it’s worth a few innocent lives to change the world.” He grins
as he sinks into his seat, spreading his legs. He looks ready to watch the
whole movie, despite losing his snacks. “You set the whole world on fire
overnight, Charles. You’re in no position to lecture me. I’ve lived among the
people you hurt.”
Charles grimaces and turns away, he slips a hand in his pocket. His thumb rubs
across one of the handles. “I’m don’t want to talk politics with you. Just tell
me who’s giving orders.”
Erik, the evil, brazen bastard that he is, reaches over and puts a hand on
Charles’s knee. “Perhaps we can negotiate for something lighter then? Something
we can be enjoy?” He mouth curls upwards slowly in the familiar smile. He even
reaches over to bop Charles on the nose.
Charles hardly registers himself moving, getting up in flash and grabbing the
man by throat. Before he can punch Erik in his smug face he feels like his
skull is trying to tear itself apart. Charles falls to floor with his hands on
his head. Somewhere below them he hears people hushing them.
Erik crosses his legs and wags a finger at Charles, “No, no, no, little mouse.
No fighting up here. I think you should be more amendable with that lovely
metal grafted to your skull. It feels…” He looks closely at Charles as if can
see the metal beneath the skin and hair, “Inelegant. I would have made you
something more discreet. That’s has to hurt terribly. But,” he says uncrossing
his legs, “We can discuss me making you something else. Come here and sit in my
lap Charles. Like old times.”
Charles whimpers, the pain flaring up the longer he stays on the filthy floor.
He finally relents and gets up.
Erik stops him with a raised hand. “Take off that jacket. And that tie. I want
you to be comfortable.” He smiles as Charles moves behind their chairs. Without
his suit jacket, his holsters are visible. Erik watches him remove his gun and
knife. He unstraps the holster and sets the thing down in his vacant seat. Erik
summons the blade over to himself and floats above his hand, “That’s better.
Now sit.”
Charles does as he was told. Erik must think the telepath has been probably
chastised. He grabs Charles by the waist and helps the younger man to settle in
his lap. His erection as obvious as ever. Charles looks to his jacket, “I want
a cigarrete.”
Erik huffs out as laugh as tilts his head up to mouth at Charles’s neck. “You
don’t smoke, Charles.”
“I do now,” bluffs Charles. “I do all sorts of things.” He rolls his head until
his mouth just over Erik. “I have a very dedicated teacher. Do you smell him on
me today?”
Erik frowns, “No cigarettes. Or cigars. They’re bad for your health, Charles.”
He licks his way into Charles’s mouth. His hands pull up Charles’s shirt.
Charles feels like a blackout is about to happen. He can’t wait until his
senses are overwhelmed. He has to act now, he thinks. Erik is trying to unzip
his pants but Charles gets up on his knees and leans over, “Really I would like
that smoke, now. You can fuck me later.”
Erik wrenches him back by the hair, “Stop. Behave yourself, Charles.”
Charles whimpers, putting his hand behind his back. “Okay. Just be quick about
it. I have to be home before Logan knows I’m missing.”
Erik strokes his hair with one hand while using the other pull the telepath’s
pants down, “You and I both know you had no plans to go home tonight. You
wanted to see me. You want this.” He bites down on Charles’s chin, “You want
what we had as much I do. Admit it, Charles.”
Charles mewls and lets Erik paw and bite at him. The little alcove is too dark
for Erik to see the weapon. Charles quickly puts both hands over Erik’s head,
resting his arms on the back of the chair. “Don’t make me regret this Erik.
Tell me what I want to know first.”
Erik smiles while moving on to Charles’s shirt. He unbuttoning it from the
bottom, spreading it out while his hands stroke Charles’s hips and sides.
“Fine. I’ll tell one fact for every time I come.”
“No,” Charles adjusts himself, “Every article of clothing. And I’m already half
undone. Now spill.”
Erik laughs slipping a hand up Charles’s shirt to pinch his nipples. He leans
forward to bite the nub through the shirt before he continues to unbutton him.
“Okay. I’ll give you half a fact.”
Charles rolls his eyes, “Names, Erik. I’m already getting bored.”
Erik slaps him on the thigh, “You’re just trying to make me jealous. But can
feel you, Charles. Your heart is pounding. You can hardly can catch your
breath. Does that animal stir your blood like I do? Can anyone ever really
satisfy you like I did?” He pulls Charles forward and starts sucking a bruise
into his neck.
Charles squirms adjusting his hands, making sure there’s no knots or tangles in
the cord. “A name Erik. A name and you can have me right here on this filthy
floor. Then back to my hotel room. And wherever else we meet from now on.”
Erik brightens at the possibility. “More little dates in darkened corners,” he
nips at Charles neck before reaching for his pants. “Fine. Unzip me.”
Charles hesitates before getting a better grip on his handles. He crosses his
hands behind Erik’s neck, making a loop. “Unzip yourself. After you give me
that name.”
Erik raises a brow, then laughs grabs Charles by the middle, pulling the
younger man up against his chest, “My little mouse. I can play whatever game
you want.” He ducks his head to nuzzle his face in Charles’s shirt. He words
are muffled at first but he pulls away to repeat himself. “Ozymandias, Margaret
Slade, Selene Gallio.” He presses his face back in Charles chest, nipping and
tugging at a nipple.
Charles’s body has stirred and he almost misses his chance to act. He visions
starts blacking out, Erik is fading shadow. He shakes his head before moving
quickly. Bringing his hands up and forward and tying a knot around Erik’s neck.
To say Erik is surprised is an understatement. He pulls until the man’s neck
starts bleed. The knife that was floating nearby sinks to the floor. Charles
feels a pounding in his head for a second but it fades with the light in Erik’s
eyes.
He’s sure Erik isn’t getting back up.
He hurries off the man’s lap to fix his clothes. He mind is working past old
blocks. “Selene Gallio,” he says to himself. He’s never heard of the others but
he knows her. Emma gave him back the memories. Selene Gallio helped to kill his
father. Selene Gallio is Shaw’s former lover. She was believed to be dead. At
least Erik and Emma always thought she was dead. He buttons his shirt and
considers the man slumping in front of him. Would Erik lie and give him false
names?
Charles grabs his suit jacket and winds the garrote back up. He frowns at Erik.
“I’m going back to my room, darling. I’m calling my partner and we’re having a
long talk about this. It’d be best if you kept your distance.” He doesn’t think
Erik is aware of anything but he leans down to kiss the man on the cheek
anyway. “Until later, love. Enjoy your movie.”
He adjusts his collar before walking past the curtain.
Downstairs he passes the girl at the ticket kiosk and waves at her as she
giggles.
He takes a taxi and goes back to the hotel room. He’s surprised to see Logan
frowning outside his door.
It’s a good surprise. So he runs to the man and jumps into his arms.
Logan doesn’t stop frowning, “You wanna explain what the hell is going on
here?” Logan sniffs him rudely, “And why do you smell like that flying
asshat?!”
Charles laughs, “I can explain. Trust me, Logan. I can explain everything.”
 
***** The Lonely People *****
Chapter Notes
     Wow this is chapter 90 in my word document. How the hell did that
     happen?
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                           Athens,_Greece_June_1967
                                        
The Captain of the Tula is lucky Charles came along. He stands aboard the Tula
while it’s anchored. The ship is crawling with a group of Darwin’s soldiers
from Utopia. He and Raven are tasked with finding clues through the ship’s
murky paperwork. Which leaves the uncooperative captain in a perilous position.
Yuriko and Logan are dangling the man over the pier, taking turns as they punch
him in the face and fake dropping him. Charles and Raven pause their research
to look over at their respective lovers.
Raven shrugs, “At least they’re being productive.” Yuriko shakes the man until
he screams. Raven shrugs again, “Well, Sort of.”
The Captain of the Tula is very lucky, thinks Charles. He’s sure Raven would
have allowed them to drown the man. Charles feels a headache coming on. He
shakes his head and checks the time. He’s already had more pain medicine than
Stephen would prescribe. He rubs his neck, and Raven takes pity on him.
“Give me that list. You’re probably straining your old man eyes trying to read
it.”
He gratefully hands his bundle over, “Thanks for that.”
They continue to check off the list of missing persons that match the official
registries and passports that lead to this ship. Tessa drives up to the dock in
a jeep. Charles was surprised when she decided to leave the safety of the
Palace. She’s out today wearing a black-haired wig, similar to what she
naturally looked like years ago. She frowns at Logan and Yuriko before walking
past them to the massive passenger ship. “I found some of the kids,” she starts
while looking back at the Captain. “They say they were left with different
families and their parents went ahead on this ship to settle in a new Morlock
Commune. They were expecting someone to get them a few days ago, but…”
“But no one is coming,” finishes Charles. He takes another look through the
papers. Over 270 mutants are reported as missing. The ships register lists
almost 500 passengers. “And we don’t know how many others came here under
Xorn’s influence.” He wishes he had killed Erik when he had the chance, but a
part of him reasons that he now has an ally across the front lines. Erik isn’t
mad about the strangling incident, and is eager to meet with Charles again.
Charles notes that the flowers growing in the west garden are really lovely,
especially since they’ve been fertilized with over two dozen love letters since
the day at the movies.
Three days ago they decided to charge Warren formally. He didn’t take it very
well. Hank is on house arrest. Still permitted to work but unable to leave the
Palace. Meanwhile, Erik has sent more than just love letters. He sent an
evidence postcard. Short, but very precise. A picture of a Grecian villa on one
side, a list of docks and distributions centers on the other. A note they that
would be handling products that were put together with slave labor. And the
number to call a mutant hot-line in Kiev. From there, they traced the Morlock
exodus back to this point.
Charles and Raven share the list with Tessa. Tessa is pointing out the names of
the families she’s looking for when they all hear the splash. They look up at
the same time and to see Yuriko and Logan grinning over the water. Charles
gives them his best, ‘I’m so disappointed’ look. Logan laughs at him. “What?!
He needed a bath!”
Yuriko nods in agreement and they both walk off, presumably to harass the crew
being held in the harbor.
Raven kneels down and inspects some scratches in the hull, “The witnesses all
say the ship was boarded by people going on a cruise. Early in the morning.
They were happy to get on this boat, but I doubt they left feeling the same
way.”
Charles feels helpless, knowing he can’t use his powers to track down the
victims of this heinous trafficking. He looks to Tessa instead, “Did you get
anything out of the harbormaster?”
She digs into her pocket and hands over a sheet of paper, “He was given a big
wad of cash from old Worthington Jr, just for turning a blind eye on the whole
spectacle.”
Raven cracks her knuckles, “I’ll go have a word with him. See if I can jog his
memory about this ship.”
Charles thinks about letting her go but reasons it wasn’t the poor man’s fault.
“No. That’s enough bullying the sailors. I want to talk to Alex about the
shipyards in Tel Aviv before we get back to the Gray City. I want you to take
Yuriko and check over Shaw’s residences in Berlin and Prague. We’re missing
something, and I have a feeling the old tyrant is the key.”
He dismisses his sister and watches as she walks back into danger. Tessa
touches his shoulder and gently brings him back, “She and Yuriko are planning
to adopt from Japan. Maybe an older kid orphaned from the Wakening. If one of
them ever carries, Yuriko is adamant that she goes first.” She smiles,
“Whatever happens, remember that you did all that you could to protect your
family. Raven is going to be fine because of you.”
Charles feels a ping his heart, “If only…” He shakes his head again, an
oncoming migraine making him lose focus.
Tessa pulls him to the side, “You should sit down. Do you want me call Steph?”
“Steph?” He raises an eyebrow and watches her blush. “What kind of name is that
for our very distinguished Doctor Strange?”
She’s turns away flushing at the cheeks. She brushes a lock of hair behind her
ears and smiles. It’s the first time he’s seen her like this in years. He feels
genuinely happy for her. And the good doctor. He knows from personal experience
how flexible she is. Mind, body, and spirit. He can’t help giving her a knowing
grin and Tessa playfully punches him on the shoulder. “Grow up, Chuck.”
 
The next few days are hectic. Charles’s attention is torn between the search
for the missing mutants, Warren’s trail, the first round debates of the local
candidates, and a rather lengthy love letter from Erik Lehnsherr.
My Dearest Little Mouse,
I feel like a brand new man. Never mind the attempted murder on your part. I
knew you couldn’t go through with that a third or fourth time. Whatever the
count is between us, know that I still love you. I have always wanted us to
grow old together. I sit here now, looking at your latest magazine cover. Look
at you Charles, growing old without me! Never mind a few wrinkles and grey
hairs. I know how stressed you are without your powers. I’m sorry I ever made
those inhibitors. They hobble you and you are wonder to behold at full
strength. Even doing the mundane.
Don’t you ever miss our life together? At Mama’s? In Prague? I miss the way you
burn eggs in the morning. Whenever the sky is this blue I think of your eyes…
You outmatch it in every way. And your mouth…
Charles starts to burn the letter, but he’s afraid of Logan sniffing it out in
his fireplace. Instead he rips it to pieces and tosses it in a pile of manure
when none of the gardeners are looking.
His headaches have started getting worst. He excused himself from all meetings
that morning. He had to explain to Aaron over lunch that the Great Patriarch
was not completely absent, just standing by as he promised he would. It’s gone
over well with the press. The Allied Forces are breathing easier. Charles
wanted that, he thinks. He didn’t want to be the subject of everyone’s
mistrust. Some people hate him so much… It’s not a feeling that sits well with
a telepath. Even with years of practice, he’s still hurts when he feels
someone’s negative thoughts are aimed at him. He doesn’t need his powers to see
the conservative media in various countries believing the worst about him and
mutants in Utopia. Spreading lies and half-truths like a virus.
His head hurts just thinking about it. Hell, he thinks. His head hurts, period.
He decides to take a nap and wait for Logan to come home.
 
 
Dreams are rarely a peaceful place for him but with the drugs kicking around in
his system, he’s been given dreamless nights. Until now.
The dream starts with him running. He’s out of breath and running along a pool.
Lucas is ahead of him, just out of reach. The boy climbs up to the high dive
and jumps.
Charles knows this is a dream. His gift makes his ability to lucid dream
unique, but he still has a hard time processing the nonsense knocking about his
subconscious. The feeling of dread isn’t lessened by that fact that this isn’t
real. Instead he falls to his knees, searching the water. It’s murky and red.
He reaches out but he’s afraid to touch it. “Please,” he asks no one. “Don’t
let him stay in there. Lucas!” He leans over and his fingers skim the water,
only to find the pool is full of boiling liquid. He pulls away but a heavy hand
lands on his shoulder. He can see the shadow of a man standing over him, a hand
outstretched holding what he knows to be the red helmet. He sobs but doesn’t
turn around.   “Not again,” he whispers closing his eyes.
Nothing happens. Charles opens his eyes to a completely different setting.
Moira and a very pregnant Emma sit across from him in Edie’s kitchen. Moira is
polishing Emma’s nails. She looks up from her work to smile at Charles. “Lucas
reminds me of your father sometimes.”
Emma hums in agreement. She looks up at Charles, “Be a dear and give mommy her
glass.”
Charles stays put, “You are not my mother… and you.” He frowns at Moira, “You
never met my father. He died.”
Moira shrugs, “You always think you know everything Charles. That’s so
unattractive, darling.”
Emma visage shimmers and turns to living stone before his eyes, “Everyone can
evolve, Charles. You should know that by now.” She changes back to pink skin
and blonde hair. “You should know that better than anyone.”
Charles looks away from them both. His hands are drumming on the table in time
with the pounding in his ears. His head, he thinks. It’s probably about to fall
off. If he wakes up, he’s taking another dose of Strange’s drugs. Side effects
be damned, he thinks.
He feels like he’s sluggishly coming back to the real world. He closes his eyes
and opens them in his bed. But it’s the wrong one. The drapes are pulled on the
old bed and he jolts upward to look around. The old bed, he realizes, is in
Erik’s room in Berlin. The sheets are red and his heavy drapes are pulled just
enough to make out the bedside table with the gray woman’s picture. He leans
over to look at the photo only to feel another hand on his shoulder.
He curls in on himself, expecting Magneto and his damn helmet again.
“What makes the world love you?!”
Charles flinches at the harsh voice. It’s high and cracking. Familiar, he
thinks.   But not Erik. He turns around slowly to see who it is. He’s surprised
to find the pale heart-shaped face of the boy Emma called Hugo. The kid looks
at Charles, the bloody sclera of his eyes mirrors his own after he’s possessed
by the Great Patriarch. But the dark purple marks on the boy’s neck is evidence
as to how he died.
The boy hisses at Charles, shaking him by the shoulder. “You! What makes him
love you more! What! What did you do?!”
Charles has no answers for this nightmare. But his very existence brings up the
same feeling of dread he felt when he saw Lucas disappear into the pool. “You
can’t be in my dreams. I closed my mind. I can’t go to the Astral Plane. You
are not real. You can’t be real.”
The boy sneers at him before pushing him down and climbing on top of Charles.
Charles is too scared to fight back. He tells himself this isn’t possible.
Wraiths can’t touch him in his own mind, he thinks. This is just a nightmare.
The boy claws at his face and skull. Charles screams as chunks of hair is
pulled out and he feels the boy’s wet panting breath over his face. He’s
paralyzed in the bed, unable to move or stop anything. He feels everything, his
headache getting worst and worst.
The boy screams in his face. “I was his first! I was there! Me!”
Charles whimpers still unable to fight back. He closes his eyes and tries to
wake up. Before the conscious world saves him, he hears the sound of Emma
whispering in his ear.
“You are not alone.”
 
Charles sits up with a shock in his new bed. He scurries off it only to run
into Logan’s broad chest. “Whoa there, Chuck. What’s gotten into you?”
Charles breaks down and cries, throwing himself into the older man’s arms. “It
never left. It didn’t work. All this time and it didn’t work. What am I going
to do?!”
He doesn’t explain the dream to Logan. The man lets him cry until he too tired
to cry anymore. He lays in bed, listening to sound of Logan’s strong heart
beating next to his ear. This dream, he thinks was a just his own stress. There
is no way for his powers to still be active. No way for En Sabah Nur to still
touch him. Perhaps the ghost was just a nightmare. A bad dream he saved in his
subconscious mind. He almost comforts himself with the thought until he
remembers Emma. Charles is a lucid dreamer for the most part. What on earth
could he be trying to tell himself?
He wakes up in the middle of the night, alone but for the dogs who guard the
bed. There’s a sheet of paper on Logan’s pillow
Chuck,
I’m going to see an old friend. Calling in a favor to help you with those
headaches. Don’t take anymore drugs till I get back. Just stay put.
Charles sighs heavily and wakes up Night. She sits up and waits for permission
to join him bed. He gives it, if only to have a warm body nearby.
 
The next day Charles tells Stephen that the implants aren’t working. The pain
is too great and he can’t deal with stress anymore. Tessa holds his hand while
he’s prepped for surgery and she’s there with the inhibitor crown when it’s
over. He slips it on and the thrumming in his skull gets worse.
Hank, brilliant genius that he is, speaks up. “I have a serum. I’ve been
working on for years. It could cancel out your mutation with a single
injection, Charles. No more implants or bands. But you’d have to be prepared
for it. The effects are temporary and I haven’t tested it on a telepath.” He
looks away, probably guilty of testing it on someone. “You could try it now
that his experiment is over.” Hank gives Tessa and Stephen a nasty look.
Charles sighs, “No. Not yet. I think I have to face him. Before he rips my mind
apart. If I don’t I will never know peace.” He raises a brow, “Besides he’s
been in solitary for a while. We should speak as grownups. Maybe there’s been
some big misunderstanding. Tessa will help me?”
She nods, “Let me get Vincent and we can all go together.”
“No,” he says, “I don’t want Vincent exposed again. Just you and I. If anything
happens to me, I need you wake up and crown us both immediately. Do you think
you can do that?”
She nods but Stephen stops them both, “I should be there as well. At least then
I can monitor you both. Stay in here and pass this safely. I’ll be your kill
switch if anything happens.”
Hank clears his throat, “Well I’m here too. You all look at me like I’m a
criminal. I’m stuck with guards watching my every move, but I…” He gets up and
moves to Charles. “I’ve always loved you, Charles. Like the big brother I never
asked for…” He smiles and Charles can’t help smiling back. “It hurts being shut
out like this. Do you really trust this witch doctor over me?”
Charles’s chest feels tight but he can’t ignore the evidence against Hank. “I
love you too, Hank. But I need to be sure. I need to keep what family I have
left, safe.”
Hank eyes shift from side to side. He huffs and throws his arms in the air,
“You’ve done that! Everyone is safe and alive because of you! All you had to do
was agree to be his! You’ve always been such a… a whore! Why did you have to
stop now?” His arms flop down to his side and he sits near the exam table with
his head in his hands.
Charles doesn’t ask him to elaborate. That was enough, he thinks. He calls the
guards that are indeed posted outside the room. “Please take him outside and
wait.” He watches as Hank sluggishly gets up, “I’ll deal with you after this.”
Hank nods weakly. Tessa pats Charles on the shoulder, “Lie back down over here.
I’ll join you. Steph, this can be kind of intense. Is there any way you can
pull us back?”
He shakes his head, “I’m not sure how this power of walking between worlds work
for either of you. Projecting your minds…” He whistles for effect, “That is
something I as a mere mortal can’t understand. Yet.” He smirks and helps her up
a table. Like a perfect gentleman he kisses her the back of the hand and steps
away to give them space. “I’ll be right, Tessa. Charles. Don’t be afraid to
call out to me. I’m listening.” He taps the side of his head.
Charles nods and reaches over to Tessa. They hold hands and take a deep breath
as Stephen carefully slips off the crown from Charles’s head.
The reaction is slow. His power coming back as a whisper. He hears Hank
outside. “They are delusional. The Great Patriarch was the best thing to ever
happen to this world. If I could just explain about Lucas. If I could do
anything but sit here wringing my hands…”
The guards are loyal to Charles and Darwin. “I never trusted this four-eyed
dweeb. He hides what he is. That’s never a good thing… Traitors hide like
snakes in the grass…”
Stephen is concentrating on Tessa. “Listen to me, my rose. Stay linked with me…
ah is that you Charles?”
Charles smiles, “Hello there.”
“That was quick,” thinks Tessa. “You’ll be back to full power in no time.”
Charles’s face drops. Out loud he says, “That’s what I’m afraid of. If he has
me while I’m back to full power, who knows what he’ll do. Let’s just hurry in
and out, Tessa. I have to face him now. You can lead the way.”
He closes his eyes and let the drag of another’s mind pull him up into the
Astral Plane.
He opens his eyes to find them both in the desert landscape. The sky black with
millions of stars lighting the sand. Charles points out the familiar tent of
the First One. “He was there the last time we spoke.”
Tessa trembles but extends her hand. “Hold on to me, Charles.”
Before they can take their first step, a shadow falls across them blocking the
moon and starlight. A hand lands on Charles shoulder and pulls him away just
Tessa disappears in the inky darkness.
“This way, Sugar.”
Charles follows. He runs across the sand, blind to the world around them.
“Where are you Emma? I can’t see you!”
“I’m barely anywhere now. He’s been feeding off us like a vampire. This way,
Charles. Hurry! Before he claims you as another horseman!”
“Charles!”
The voice crying out stops him in his tracks. He starts to turn but he feels
the strong hand pulling him onward, “No Charles you can’t go back for her.
She’s lost.”
Charles yanks away. “No she is not! We have to stick together. She’s my link to
the real world. I can’t block him without her!”
Emma face finally appears, a hand reaches out to him. “You never blocked him,
Charles. I’ve been trying to warn you. You’ve given him time to get his new
house set up. All he has to do is move in and take over. A living body for his
will incarnate. We have to hide you Charles!”
Charles goes with her, “Me. He’s going to possess me and do what? Throw out my
consciousness for good? Leave me here? If I’m hiding how am I to protect my
body? I have to go back.”
“It’s too late, Charles.” She yanks him forward. “He already has her. It’s too
late.”
Chapter End Notes
     getting near the end. Like only 20,000 words left. Yay!
***** Jet *****
Chapter Notes
     Erik's POV
                        Rio_de_Janeiro,_Brazil_May_1951
                                        
Nadia has no imagination, thinks Erik.
She moans prettily enough, he supposes. But she’s overdramatic. Borderline
faking. He’s only sure she’s not faking because he’s seen every inch of himself
in the mirror. There’s no reason to be faking with him. Still, she is coming
off as a little over-enthusiastic. Thrusting into her is starting to feel like
a chore. He tunes her out to pay attention to the monitor.
They’re in a suite of the Belmond Copacabana Palace. It’s beautiful the way
places that cater solely to the rich and famous are always beautiful. He knows
Mama would hate a place like this. Full of servants who run around, forced to
cater to people who can’t be bothered to clean up their own shit.
He sits up to flip Nadia over, hoping that if he only sees the back of her
brunette head he can get done faster. He yanks a handful of hair and shoves her
face down on the pillows. She may be complaining now about air but Erik ignores
her. On the bedside table he has several monitors arranged. All the technical
equipment clashes with the breezy, art deco styling of the room. But on the
monitor the Xavier siblings are happily running around one of the pools. Their
mother sits like an inebriated stone while they jump in and out of the water.
He’s fortunate his camera is near enough to make out the sight of Charles
climbing out of the pool. He watches as the boy shakes water out of his hair
before accepting a drink and towel from a valet. Before he can sip his glass, a
whirl of blue appears and knocks him back into the pool.
Erik smiles at the scene, his cock harder than before. He turns away and
imagines the brunette head under him belonged to Charles. It’s harder to do
with Nadia insistent noise making. He realizes she probably needs to breathe
and finally lets her up.
“Magneto, please!” She cries out, “Get off!”
Erik rolls his eyes, “I was trying to, but you’re not making it easy.” He lets
her go and walks away from the bed. Her face is red and splotchy and he wonders
if he went too far. She’s supposed to be helping with the security detail. Her
gift is knocking people out with venomous barbs that she spits out.
Nearby in Nova Roma, Daniel and Annaud are refurbishing what they call an old
lab of great importance. They’re holding a fake conference for psionics at the
same time. The whole point of the ‘conference’ was to expose Charles in an
isolated place. Erik had to sit through it yesterday while they were testing
and upgrading Charles. They have the rest of the week to observe and test the
boy. Erik was told that the boy had recently had an unexpected growth spurt. To
let it settle, Daniel had to deactivate him for a few days.
All of this and he’s stuck babysitting Emma as well. The only thing good about
this job is being near Charles.
From his window he can see Charles running around again. He starts to push the
curtain, curious about whether the boy could see him from so high up.
A knock on the door interrupts him.
He sighs as he finds Emma at his room door. She’s big as a house and frowning
up at him, “You’re supposed to be guarding me, you freak. What if I went into
labor early? And you’re up here getting laid!”
Erik rolls his eyes. “Let me get dress and I go back to following you around,
your majesty.”
She crosses her arms and backs away from the door with her enormous belly.
He dresses quickly in a new suit and checks the monitor once more before
leaving. He sticks his head back in the room to assure Nadia. “Don’t worry,
I’ll be back in an hour or so.” The woman ignores him but he’s certain she’ll
do her duty and keep an eye on Charles and his family.
He follows Emma back down to a different pool. He’s not sure why. If anything
really threatened the girl she could deal with it herself. He’s convinced she’s
just bothering him for the hell of it. He’s certain of it when she unwraps her
dress and reveals a two piece bikini is strapped to her great whale-like
figure. He looks at her in disgust as she waddles into the pool, “Do you mind,
Emma. That’s hardly polite in mixed company.” He motions to the handful of
tourists out by the pool. “Can’t you soak up in your own room?”
She splashes him water and he jumps away, afraid of ruining his suit. She
laughs at him as she sinks in the pool. “You are the prissiest boy I’ve ever
met, Lehnsherr. And I’ve dated Frenchmen.” She leans back in the water letting
the swell of her belly float up to the surface. An old couple coo at them from
a nearby umbrella.
The old man actually gives Erik a thumbs up, “Come here! I have a cigar for
you, young man. Every proud father to be should have a collection!” He says in
broken English. He laughs, waving his cigar around. Erik doesn’t see any point
in restraining himself. He frees the metal in one of the umbrella poles to stab
the old man in the eye. It looks like a freak accident. Everyone is screaming
and there’s blood everywhere. The poolside is cleared as people follow the old
couple and some doctors out into the lobby.
Left alone, Erik walks over to the pool with his hands in his pocket. He feels
better now that he’s gotten some violence out of his system. There’s still
Nadia upstairs, but he can wait. “Azazel is almost done remapping Nova Roma. We
can be out of this country soon.”
Emma flaps around. She retains some elegance even with her beach ball gut. “We
have to hurry back to the lab. This one is a kicker. He’s not going to just
wait around for Annaud to cut him out, I can tell.”
Erik trembles, thinking about the other living clone. Celeste is three years
old now. Daniel and his Father tried to change the thing’s name but Emma put
her pointy little foot down on the matter. They are stuck with a thing that
looks a little like Charles but not really. He doesn’t walk or talk. He only
speaks to Emma with telepathy. He has managed to survive all of their
experiments. He’s caught Daniel calling it son on more than one occasion. But
he’s sure the man would still happily cut into the thing to harvest its organs.
Emma is the only one who’s grown attached their little experiment. He worries
about that. And thinks this whole thing should be stopped. But Annaud argued
the project will require a great deal of new research and experimentation. They
can’t test all their procedures on Charles. He’s too valuable and not easily
accessed.
Celeste is strong but quiet. Eerie would be a better way to describe him. Erik
shudders to think of what she might be carrying this time.
Speak of the devil he thinks. Emma jolts up suddenly, waving him over. “Oh
god!”
“Oh god,” parrots Erik. He had no intention of being here for this. Emma moans
again and tries to paddle over to the side of the pool. He has to pull the
great girth of her out. He backs away when he’s sure she’s not going to drown.
Then considers kicking her back in the water when he realizes his suit is
ruined.
“OH GOD!” She clutches her middle and Erik feels all the blood in his face
drain.
“Shut up! You don’t have to be so dramatic. You’ve done this before, you stupid
girl.” He moves away from her reaching into his pocket for his communicator. He
calls Azazel and the other man answers with a curt ‘Da.’ Emma is still moaning
like she’ll die any minute. It sets his teeth on edge. “Can you hurry up over
there? This bitch just ruined my suit with god knows what leaking out of her
body!”
Azazel has the audacity to laugh. “One moment, little Red. Almost finished. The
good doctor would like me to transport you two here when he’s sure there’s
enough air.
“Air?” Erik frowns, knowing the lab they’re building under the old city had a
cave in after Selene died. “What do you mean air? Is that place safe, Azazel?
Azazel?!”   The man hangs up on him and Erik is left with Emma making a bloody
looking mess near the pool. She sits up on her elbows and reaches down with one
hand. For a terrifying moment Erik thinks she’s going to deliver the baby right
there.
He’s about to vomit when a familiar hand pats him on the back.
Dr. Annaud and Azazel laugh at his face before collecting Emma. “All went well
with the conference?” The old man pats him again.
All he can do as nod as he waits his turn.
 
The day goes by quickly after they arrive in the new lab. There are three
babies this time. Two are alive and one is stillborn. Annaud and Daniel decide
to keep the fattest baby. They place it in a vat similar to the one that
incubated Celeste. The other living thing is taken from Emma. She cries and
cries and asks for it. Daniel lies and tells her it won’t work, that this one
is too weak to survive.
Erik scoffs, looking at readout from one of the monitors. This baby is as
healthy as the other one.
They have to knock her out to keep her from killing everyone. Erik is in charge
of putting her in an isolation room. It was made to block psychic influence. He
leaves her there before checking in on Annaud and Daniel. Annaud is happily
taking samples for Subject D, the baby called Esme by Emma.
Daniel is already elbow in viscera. Whatever girl’s name Emma was going to give
that one, it doesn’t matter now.
He ignores them to seek out Azazel, hoping for a ride back to Rio.
The other man doesn’t appear when he’s called and Erik has to settle for flying
himself back. It takes almost two hours as he is reluctant to go too high, but
has more difficulty maneuvering around trees. He prefers the metal in a city to
all this ridiculous, sprawling nature. He’s almost halfway there when he stops.
He hides himself up in a tree and smiles so hard his face hurts.
His little blue princeling is out on his own. Miles away from the city. It’s
only been a few hours, thinks Erik. Charles must have just joined this little
expedition. There’s three others with him, including Nadia. Part of her cover
was to act like a wildlife expert. He wonders how she managed all this.
He moves closer, safe in the knowledge that his beloved little mouse can’t hear
his thoughts.
He can hear Nadia as she displays a bird for the crowd. “I have seen few Macaws
like this, Mr. Xavier. They’re rarely seen this far south. I would not
recommend taking him home as a pet. They are this beautiful to attract mates.
You take him away and who’s he going to sing to?”
Charles looks sadly at the bird, “I understand. My mother hates pets anyway.
But I’ve always liked birds.” He reaches out, only to be squawked at.
Erik grins at the sight. He notices Nadia telling the others to stay together.
They’re all dressed in light linen clothes. Charles is wearing red shorts and a
floppy panama hat. A thin grey t-shirt clinging to his skinny frame. A fat man,
balding in the center of his head carrying a shotgun is sweating buckets. A
woman strangely wearing high-heel shoes has to ask to go back to the car. Nadia
agrees to take her and tries to pull Charles along.
Erik flips open his communicator, “Wait,” he tells her. “Leave him here and
I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Nadia frowns, a hand going to the earpiece. He can’t make out what she says as
she turns her back to him. She leads the others away, leaving Charles to stare
at a pretty blue bird.
Erik eyes the truck they hiked from about a mile away. He nudges the doors
locked. It’ll be awhile before they can rescue the silly woman’s shoes.
He lands softly on the ground and walks towards Charles. The boy doesn’t even
look up to see who’s there. Instead he whistles and clicks at the bird. “Pretty
bird,” he says. “Come on. Speak. I know you can. If you talk, my mother will
let you come home with me. Say ‘Pretty woman’. That’ll knock her socks off.”
Erik resists laughing at his little love. Instead he lets out a whistle. A
long, steady breathe and Charles turns around in surprise. The boy greets him
with smile and he smiles back, glad that Charles is unafraid of him.
“Hello,” says the proper young man. He offers his hand, “I’m Charles Xavier.
Are you with the hotel?” He eyes Erik’s suit, coming to the natural conclusion.
Erik laughs this time, “No. No, I’m just a guest. Like you. I’m… I’m Max
Eisenhardt.” He loathes that fact that he can’t give his real name yet. “I was
interested in finding a new pet as well. It seems you left with the only
wildlife expert.”
“Guilty,” Charles shrugs, but the smile on face says he delights in the news.
“I didn’t mean to hog her, you understand. But I really wanted to see these
birds. I’d love one for my sister. A classmate of mine taught his to speak!”
Erik hasn’t been so close to Charles in years. Not while he was cognizant. He’s
happy Charles can’t see the thoughts running through his head. He’d probably
scare the boy off. Instead he offers his most disarming smile and gets closer.
Charles lets him. Completely trusting the way rich children are when they think
they’re too good for bad things to happen to them. Erik bites his own tongue as
Charles moves to the side, offering him space at the tree. The boy turns his
back on Erik to go back to the bird. It seems the feathery vermin has attracted
a mate.
Charles smiles brightly at the thing, his eyes lighting up. “Look at that!
They’re singing to each other! I wish I had a camera with me. Raven would love
to see this!”   He takes his hat off to fan himself while he looks on,
grinning.
Erik basks in the light of Charles’s happiness. The boy’s warmth hasn’t
diminished. He’s still made of joy and hope. It’s a rare and beautiful thing in
this world. Erik wants so desperately to be closer. He barely resists touching
that soft hair or the exposed neck. He feels compelled to just throw himself at
the boy. Instead he clears his throat. “Aren’t you a little young to be out
here on your own?”
Charles visibly bristles at that. He stands straighter, and clears his own
throat. He says seriously, “I’m almost sixteen.” In the deepest voice he can
manage. It’s all music to Erik’s ears. He feels like the bad wolf stalking
Little Red Riding Hood. It doesn’t help that Charles bends to an actual basket,
“I have some water if you want some. Are you thirsty?” He asks with his big,
round eyes. “I feel like I could melt out here.”
Erik hopes he’s not breathing as hard as he feels… He reaches out and touches
the bare skin at back of Charles’s neck. “You’re going burn out here. Even
under the shade. Do you want to go further in? There’s more cover about mile up
that way,” he points in the direction he came. Away from the truck of tourists.
And Nadia.
Charles is a sweet, naïve creature. The boy nods and follows as Erik leads him
deeper into the rainforest. The boy is marveling at the birds and animals
sounds. “Do you think we’ll see any snakes?! I’ve always wanted to see an
anaconda!”
“Always,” says Erik doubtfully.
Charles corrects himself, “Well since I read about them yesterday.” He says
sheepishly, “Always since yesterday.”
Erik laughs opening his palm, hoping Charles will take it. By some miracle the
boy just smiles and takes his hand, following him as they move further away.
Charles looks up at him and smiles sweetly. Completely blind without his
telepathy, thinks Erik.
“Are you here with your family?” Charles swings their arms between, walking at
a faster pace to keep up with Erik’s legs. “I’m here with my mum and my sister.
My stepfather is at some kind of conference.”
Erik stops them under a big tree, pulls Charles along until the boy is
plastered against the trunk. “Shh, I hear something.” He doesn’t sense any
danger, but he feels Charles’s heart beating faster. The boy’s pulse is racing
and he’s panting while looking frantically from one tree to another.
“Is it a Jaguar? I’ve always wanted to… I mean since yesterday, I’ve wanted to
see one. But not so close up. Are we in any danger?” He asks before biting his
bottom lip. He worries it red and looks up with the most trusting expression.
“Should we call for help?”
Something in Erik snaps at the sight. Perhaps it was the red, he tells himself.
He surges forward, covering Charles’s mouth with his hand. The boy doesn’t
struggle at first. He too busy looking for wild animals to notice Erik’s
intention. Erik leans down, smelling the still fresh, clean hair. His brushes
his nose against Charles’s ear and mouths gently at his neck before whispering.
“Don’t be afraid, my little mouse. I’m not going to hurt you.” He warns.
That switches off some preservation instinct in the boy. Charles starts
thrashing around and squealing. Erik grins down at him and holds him tighter.
He can make out some pleading that sounds like ‘no’ and ‘please’.
“Quiet, Charles. I just want… it won’t take long and I swear I won’t hurt you.
Open up for me, darling. Please?” He leans down and kisses the boy gently below
his ear.
Charles goes completely still beneath him and backs away to take in the sight
of boy, quietly sobbing. Erik loosens his grip and slowly peels his hand back.
He carefully nips at Charles mouth only for the boy to lash out and bite him.
That only makes Erik more eager. He pushes Charles back roughly, and holds him
still with barely any effort.
Charles’s eyes water and he thrashes his head, “Please. Please don’t do this,
sir. Please. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”
Erik frowns at the boy’s reasoning, “I think I should keep you, after this
Charles. Show the others just how exposed you are. You’re not safe out here.
You’re far too trusting.”
The boy kicks out and stomps on the Erik’s toes. It’s enough to let him squirm
a few inches but Erik has him pinned again after a few seconds.
“Stop fighting. I’m not going to hurt you. I want to… I want to share something
with you. I love you, Charles. You and I are meant to be together and I hate
not having you near. Just listen to me Charles, and I think we can…” He pauses
mid though feeling a suddenly pinch in the back of his neck.
He looks down at Charles, his hands slipping away from the younger man’s body.
Charles runs off and Erik is left flailing as he falls to his knees.
“That was stupid, Lehnsherr.” Nadia circles around to stand in front of him.
“Your Father would like to see you now.”
Erik closes his eyes, angry with himself for giving into temptation.
 
When he next opens his eyes, he’s in newly refurbished lab in Nova Roma. He’s
strapped to a chair, his body bent over and head tied down to a table. He can
hear voices in the lab with him. Nearby there’s a vat of reddish fluid, a new
baby head floating around in it. Daniel comes around to observe it, “I wonder
if I can start with scratch with this one. Emma is all in tizzy but she’s doing
better since we brought it Celeste.” He turns to Erik and wags a finger. “We’re
giving you a pass this time Erik. Call it an opportunity. We’re going to test
Celeste’s ability on you. Emma will supervise but the cuckoo will do the wipe.
For your sake, I hope he’s successful.” He smiles and walks away leaving Erik
alone for some time.
Erik tries to remove his restraints only realize he’s probably had his powers
nullified with one their experimental collars.
Celeste is a still a eerie child. He’s rolled over to Erik’s side while still
in his little cot. The baby sits up and looks over Erik’s shoulder, presumably
at Emma. He hears the child’s voice for the first time in his mind. “Hello
Uncle.” It’s nothing like Charles’s voice he thinks. “Mother says I have to
take your bad thoughts away. What bad thing did you do this time?”
Erik grins, “Why don’t look and see for yourself.”
“Erik,” warns Emma aloud. “He has to be very careful. This is your only brain,
you know. You shouldn’t try to hinder his performance.”
Erik sighs, “Fine. Do what you must. I know the truth. You can’t take that from
me.”
The baby smiles at him and leans over, “I know all the truths, Uncle. The only
things you have is what is given to you. My mother gives you memories and
dreams. I can take them away. So can my brother. So can the First One.” Erik
doesn’t understand and the boy doesn’t bother explaining. He knifes into Erik’s
thoughts and Erik is left a drooling mess on the table.
He sees the last day being torn out of his mind like pages of a book. He grabs
a hold of the memory of Charles. The way he looked at the pool. In the forest.
He holds on to the way the boy smelled and tasted. He holds on for all he’s
worth.
It’s not enough.
                  ***** Rio_de_Janeiro,_Brazil_May_1951 *****
***** Strawberry Fields *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                             The_Astral_Plane_1967
                                        
The dark well has become a prison. They ran here together but Emma steadily
faded away.
She told him about the cuckoo project. The clones of him that he gleefully
destroyed the day he escaped. “They were my children,” she cried. “They were
mine and you killed them.”
Charles thinks of the boy with his face. The one he shot in the head. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t know.” She fades away gradually after his apology but leaves
the impression again.
“You are not alone.”
Charles clutches his head, feeling even worst. He tries to climb out of the
well. But the opening is too high up. The world is distorted for the First
One’s purposes. And right now, the all-powerful being wants Charles down here.
There’s nothing he can do. Nothing but wait as time passes.
But time in the Astral Plane is hard to gauge. Charles feels like he been
locked away for an eternity. But a part of him feels like he’s been gone for
minutes. He wonders if Stephen found a way to stop the First One in time.
Perhaps he’s stuck down here, separated from his body because he’s already been
crowned with an inhibitor. Perhaps Tessa is all right. They could be trying to
find a way to save him. He smiles to himself, thinking Logan is will tear the
palace apart.
It’s the most hopeful outlook on the table. But if he is stranded in the Astral
Plane, still feeling the heavy presence of the Great Patriarch, then he has to
accept he may never wake up. It’s for the good of the world, he thinks. He
resigns himself to exile in this dimension and sinks to ground. He curls up in
a ball and tries to rest.
He knows he’s still holed up in an oubliette in the Astral Plane, but his mind
imagines he’s dreaming.
“Charles, honey! Did you get the bottles off the table?!”
Moira’s voice rings from outside. Charles juggles a bag of baby things, their
daughter in one arm, and Lucas wrapped around one leg. “Come on up from there
and help me with Cyndi before your mother leaves without us!”
Lucas sighs before sitting up, “She wouldn’t do that. She’s too brave to leave
people behind.” He tosses Charles an angry look before taking the baby bag and
going outside.
Charles shifts his daughter to the other arm. He smiles down at the girl. She
looks more like him than Lucas did when he was born. Moira calls her an exact
copy. Even the freckles are in the right place, he muses. “You must be tired of
all this running around. But we can’t be late for Aunt Tessa’s wedding. Your
cousins and god-sister will be there.”
The baby gurgles, then pulls at his face. Charles laughs. But then she pulls
harder and Charles is suddenly afraid of how strong she is. He sits her down on
the floor and holds out his hands. “Don’t move. Just stay like that. Please.”
He’s thinking of finding his camera and taking a quick picture of his lovely
little girl.
The baby doesn’t listen. She stands up and grows before his eyes. He used to
marvel at Raven when she changed form as a child, but seeing his baby girl do
it is unnerving. The young woman standing before him now looks just like Eun.
She takes him by the hand and tries to lead him upstairs.
“Come on, I know a place!”
Charles yanks away, his stomach roiling. “You can’t be here!”
The Korean girl looks back at him with a sneer, “I can do whatever I want when
grandmother is sleeping! Come on, Charles. We don’t have much time. You don’t
still want my sisters do you?”
The last thing he heard about the two women, they were still working for the
Korean military. They’re using their brilliant math skills to aid a new space
program. Project M or something. He shakes his head, having reality intrude on
his fantasy life is disconcerting. “Never mind,” he tells her. He sinks down on
the ground and closes his eyes.
When Charles next opens his eyes he’s back in the bottom of the well, only this
time the opening is far closer. He stands up and jumps until he can pull
himself over the edge. Everything is white and then there’s nothing.
Until he opens his eyes again in the real world.
 
“Where am I?” He says. His voice is hoarse. He’s still in the lab, strapped
down to an exam table.
“Charles!” Tessa hovers over him. “Oh thank god! You’re awake!”
Charles swallows and stares up at her. She looks like an angel, he thinks. She
dressed in a light blue gown, her head wrapped in a dark scarf. She pets him on
the head before undoing the restraints. “I was worried you would never wake up.
You’ve been out for a long time.” She helps him to sit up. He feels weak and
has to lean on her.
“What happened? Did you stop him? Is everything okay?” He asks looking up at
her. She only offers him a smile and tries to help him stand up. He grabs her
wrist and he buries his face in her chest, “I thought I lost you in there. I
heard you calling out and Emma said you were gone.”
Tessa strokes her fingers through his hair. He notes how long it is now,
falling well over his eyes.
He looks up, scrubbing a hand through his own beard, “How long was I asleep?”
She looks sad but doesn’t answer. “Long enough. We all missed you so much. Come
on. Let’s get you cleaned up before we see the others.
Tessa helps him down into a wheelchair and steers him back towards his rooms.
The halls are quiet. It must be late at night, he thinks. No one is around.
They make it back to his room and he expects to see Logan or Night and Day. He
says as much and Tessa sighs.
“Logan left before you had implants out remember? We haven’t seen him since.
Raven was really pissed off about that. She and Yuriko came back from their
assignments and told us they found evidence of another laboratory. I don’t want
to overload you Charles, but it helped. It helped a lot.”
Charles frowns thinking of Logan’s promise. “That doesn’t sound like Logan. Has
anyone checked on him…” He realizes he’s about to start giving orders. Why, he
asks himself. He still doesn’t know what’s going on. His powers feel faint.
Perhaps suppressed from being inactive, he reasons. Charles pats his friend on
the hand, “Thank you, Tessa. I’ve been so worried. I thought I was going mad in
that other dimension. How’s my mother holding up? How did the elections go?”
Tessa takes him to the bathroom and starts filling the tub. She helps him get
undressed and manages to get him in the tub. He’s lost weight since he’s been
sleeping and blushes, thinking of the sight he must make. She moves about
automatically, helping him wash and get out to dry. She wraps him in a robe,
gets him in the chair, and wheels him to the sink. “A shave would help you for
more like yourself. You want some help?”
He shakes his head, “A moment please. I’ll be out in a second. Thank you,
Tessa.”
She nods and leaves him there to look at himself in the mirror. He can’t tell
how long he’s been out, but he’d say there was about three months’ worth of
beard on his face. She brushed his wet hair back but it curls at his neck and
over his ears. Charles scrubs a hand over his face, “I’ve lost so much time
these last few years. I’ll never get a second of it back…” He hangs his head
and starts to cry. At least he’s waking up in a new world. He perks up thinking
the plans he laid have worked. And Raven and Yuriko owe him a niece or nephew.
He smiles at the thought before sitting up. He wipes his nose with the back of
his hand and gets on with shaving.
 
When he’s finished he thinks he looks like his old self. Just before he went
after Moira and Raven into the Rhineland. Professor Charles Xavier, former
Captain with the Allied Forces. He gives himself a tight smile and calls for
Tessa.
She helps him out the room and down the halls again. The sky outside the
windows is dark and still. He wonders what time it is but doesn’t bother
asking. They enter the Great Hall and Charles stares in awe at how it’s
changed. The patrician columns are gone, the white marble and long path to the
dais are gone. He smiles thinking this for the new administration. A future
president will be taking press conferences here. No more Living Gods or
Venerable Hosts. No more mad, human-hating dictators. Or delusional Lotharios.
He sighs in relief.
Tessa wheels up to where red and white sheets are draping over the new
construction. The throne dais has a high flat platform on it, covered in sheets
as well. “Are we building something new for the press?” He looks up and Tessa
combs her fingers through his hair again before leaning down to kiss him on the
forehead. He accepts the comfort before looking to the empty spot where Lucas
was shrined, “Where’s my son?”
Tessa pushes him all the way to the platform. “He’s somewhere safe, Charles.
The others will be here in a moment.”
He reaches out to the platform and is surprised to feel it give. “Is this a
mattress? In the Great Hall?” He looks back at her confused, “What the hell is
going on? Where is everyone?” He tries to use his powers only to find himself
blocked off. He frowns up at her, “Why can’t I use my telepathy? Did Stephen do
this?”
Tessa kneels down in front of him and looks up with a gentle expression on her
face. “Doctor Strange is dead, I’m afraid. So are your dogs, and brave Lila.
And Vincent. There were many loses at first but, everything within Utopia has
settled, my shining Starlight. Its time now we march outward. It’s time to take
your place at my side with the others.”
She stands up and wheels Charles around. He sees the shadows before the other
councilman enter. It’s not what he expected. Warren walks out, his glorious
white wings changed to metal. He extends them and marches forward a like figure
in a child’s nightmare. He grins and licks his lip before stopping in front of
Charles. He kneels and bows his head, “First One.” Warren then looks up and
gives Charles a lecherous look before addressing him, “Consort.”
Tessa rests a hand on Charles’s shoulder, “You have to admit, this is an
improvement, my Starlight.”
Charles feels his breath coming faster as he’s stricken with fear, “Tessa… Are
you? What is this?”
Tessa circles around and holds out a hand, “Come forward my horseman.”
Warren stands up and takes Tessa’s hand, kissing the tips of her fingers, “He
looks so surprised. I’m almost ashamed of how easy it was.”
Charles shakes his head, “This isn’t real. I’m sleeping.” He looks up at Tessa,
“Memento Mori, remember? Besides, The First One wouldn’t possess you. I’m the
Host. He wouldn’t… why would he do this to you? Why go to through this…”
Tessa shushes him, rubbing his chin with the back of her little hand, “Calm
down. I have presents for you, my Starlight. You don’t have to pressure
yourself thinking of ways to fight this. It has been four months, my love.” She
scratches a hand through his hair. The gesture has stopped being a comfort.
“And I have taken down all but the most resilient opposition. Soon with you
back to full power, we will take them as well. My traitor sons and daughters.
Your detractors. The weakness that plagues this planet. All the evil in the
world gone with one swing of the sword. It will be glorious. You must see
that.”
Charles struggles to accept his words. The enormity of it all is a thousand
times worse than anything else he’s ever felt. “Where is my family?”
Tessa gives him a slow, fernlike smile. But at this point he supposes he should
think of her as the Great Patriarch. She pats him on the shoulder, still acting
so familiar with him. “Your mother accepts her new place with grace, Charles.
She is of very good stock. I see where your entitlement comes from.” She
laughs, “And she sleeps now surrounded by jewels and furs.”
Charles wonders if this thing has pushed his mother back to the bottle. But
there’s Raven. Raven wouldn’t just lie down take this. “Where’s my sister?!”
Tessa gestures for Warren to come closer. The man with the metal wings
understands this to mean he should move Charles from the wheelchair. The
telepath thrashes for a moment but Tessa’s hand curls around the nape of his
neck. “Raven is secure, Charles. She and her beloved are fine. Now, still
yourself.” She backs away while Warren moves Charles to the platform. Without
his strength, he just sits there. Holding himself up and glaring daggers at the
both of them.
“Darwin and Alex… Mr. Reeves. Where are my people?” He doesn’t bother shouting.
The Living God isn’t something you can just yell at. Whatever Warren’s become
he looks far more formidable than the horny, winged man he met months ago.
Tessa tilts her head, shrugging as she circles around the dais. “In truth, I
only need four in this world. My horseman serve me and only me. And through
their service, they create a better world for those deserving of life.” She
stops near Warren and he holds out his hand presenting a strange coin.
“Death, my Pale Horse.” Tessa motions to the doors of the Great hall as they
open.
Charles feels like he could swallow his own tongue. He stares at N’Dare as she
marches in, wearing green and white armor. A golden crown on top of her hair.
He’s never seen her locs and braids loose before, but her hair falls down past
her waist now. She looks like a queen in battle gear. There are no words for
how he feels. Charles is both relieved and terrified at the same time.
“N’Dare,” he squeaks out, reaching for her with a shaky hand.
She looks at him with hardly any emotion. Tessa introduces her, “Conquest, my
White Horse. She is the Earth goddess and mother to the Storm Goddess.” Tessa
walks up to the platform and pulls Charles close, “They have the power to feed
nations or destroy them with their will. I will use them as my bow and arrow.”
N’Dare marches forward bows in a similar fashion as Warren did. “I’m glad to
see you again, old friend.”
Charles reaches out, “Please, don’t do that. Help me. We have to get out of
here.”
Tessa tuts at him and pulls him back to the center of the platform. “One more
horseman, my love.” She outstretches her hand and says simply, “Famine.”
All the fear roiling around his belly is gone when Erik steps out. The weakness
and despair that paralyzed him is suddenly gone. Charles tries to launch
himself off the platform. “You!”
Warren has to catch and hold him back.
Erik stares on as N’Dare did. Hardly any emotion on his face. “Still the Oxford
boxer, darling?” He smirks, belying whatever control En Sabah Nur has over him.
“Don’t I get a kiss hello or something? You never answered my letters. I tried
to warn you this day would come, but you never listened. You never wrote me
back. I’m starting to think you didn’t read them.” He’s wearing armor like
N’Dare. His is dark red and black, a helmet tucked under his arm.
Charles pushes Warren away, “Why are you doing this!” He looks to Tessa. “Of
all the people in the world to use, why him!”
Tessa looks sad, her pretty eyes big and soft as she looks from him to Erik.
“The monster in your nightmares. Is also the angel of your dreams,” she
projects the memory Erik shared with him. The one of boy in hospital bed,
giving a kiss to the good-looking stranger. Charles shakes his head and Tessa
laughs at him. “I promised to give you everything you wanted. This man has the
potential to control the most fundamental forces in nature with his ability. He
can help us to reshape this entire world.”
Charles fumes at that, “But I don’t want to reshape anything! And I definitely
don’t want him alive!” He re-evaluates his stance on not yelling. Clearly En
Sabah Nur isn’t listening. “Let Tessa go! I am your host. You promised to
protect me! The people I care about. All you’ve given me is death and misery!
You’re a liar and a murderer and I want you to leave her alone! Now!” He
reaches out thinking he could shake the Living God loose from her body.
Tessa suffers him moment before her body changes. Gone is the petite telepath
with the big eyes. Now Charles is faced with the ancient warrior, wearing only
a collar of gold and red loin cloth.
Charles backs away, only to find Warren’s hand on his shoulder. He pulls until
Charles is down on his back.
En Sabah Nur waves a hand, and his Horsemen clear away from the platform. He
steps up on to it and straddles Charles’s waist before the younger man can get
up. “War is my cherished, love. War is the vehicle of real change. No matter
what century or plane I’m on. War is always my favorite,” he smiles down with
sharp teeth and black lips. “Now I will give you a gift, my child. And
thereafter you will be my Red Horse.”
He leans down, his arms caging Charles in on the platform. Charles turns his
head, but all he sees is Erik standing to the side like an obedient dog. He
huffs out as The First One’s tries to catch him, finally grabbing Charles’s
chin and holding him still. “I am warrior. I do not steal or beg. I earn my
prizes. I do not take what is not freely given to me.” He kisses Charles gently
on the lips, “But you were promised to me a long time ago Charles. You were
mine before you were born. There is nothing I can’t take from you. You owe me
your life,” he reaches down and undoes the robe, “Your loyalty…”
Charles tries to kick out as the man settles between his legs, “No don’t!” He
looks over to Erik, “Please! Don’t let him do this! Help me!” Erik turns away
and Charles wishes even more for a chance to kill the man. “You fucking
coward!”
En Sabah Nur holds him still with one hand while he holds out a coin, “This is
your sword, my Starlight.” He smiles as he presses it into one of Charles
hands. “And I am your master. You will obey me or face the consequences.”
It echoes Erik first words to him, years ago in that horrible prison. Charles
closes his eyes and tries to find the strength to survive this new horror. The
god above laughs and Charles opens his eyes. The First One has Charles’s hands
bound over his head in one hand, while his other holds Charles’s legs apart.
The Living God laughs again before sharing his joke. He leans down to whisper
in Charles’s ear.
“999…”
Charles looks at Erik and sees the man clenching his fist as he refuses to
look.
“989…”
N’Dare looks on, with a glazed expression.
“988…”
Warren stays at the foot of the platform, eager to watch. Charles learns later
he was only waiting for his turn.
“987…”
Charles stops fighting and lays stills as the Great Patriarch finally enters
him. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the way the creature above
continues counting until he fully sheathed. He starts thrusting without waiting
for Charles to adjust, setting the young man’s body on fire with the intrusion.
“Ah, my Starlight.”
Charles turns his head away, wishing he were anywhere else.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Why can’t I just let Charles be happy! Why? What’s wrong with me!
***** Greetings *****
                        Gray_City,_Utopia_October_1967
                                        
Charles lies under the Great Patriarch for a time thinking he would be better
off dead.
Then there’s a subtle baton switch, the First One handing over the reins to a
man he called Death.
Charles endures that thinking of what Logan will do when he finds out about
this.
Neither Erik nor N’Dare take a turn. Erik looks pained, standing off to the
side. It serves him right, thinks Charles. The one thing he never allowed
himself to do was hurt Erik the way the man so easily did him. Whatever Erik
experienced out on his own after the Wakening, had nothing to do with Charles.
He would trade places now, he thinks. Hand over Erik’s ass to the voracious
pounding. Leave him to suffer this…
When Warren is satisfied he gets up, bowing to his god again for the favor.
Erik escorts En Sabah Nur as he leaves Charles in the center of the Great Hall.
Warren tries to move him, but Charles has recovered enough to push him away.
N’Dare is tasked with returning him to his room. Her movements are quick and
impersonal. She leaves him near his own bed and locks the doors when he leaves.
Charles has the rest of the night to feel sick and desperate. He throws the
coin somewhere in the room, hoping to never see it again. His stomach turns and
he vomits on the side of the bed. In his fit, he thrashes around, pitying
himself, slapping himself, blaming himself.
Its only when the sun starts to rise that he starts to feel more even-keeled. A
voice in the back of his mind echoes out, “Remember you are not alone.”
He sees himself before he released the Great Patriarch. The power he could
wield on his own. How he tore apart the labs, then the Hellfire club. How he
cut into Shaw’s mind. He sees himself as a leader in the world torn apart. All
the people he helped. His family. A part of him wants to curl up and die after
last night, but the voices in his head keep echoing.
“You are not alone.”
He hardly believes them, but it helps. Somehow it helps to give him strength.
He gets up and hobbles over to the balcony, only to find it locked. Then he
moves to his bedroom’s doors to find them locked as well. He goes to the
bathroom and stands in the shower for what feels like hours.
Charles only comes out as he hears someone moving around in the other room.
Wary after all the surprises last night, he leaves the water running in the
shower as he steps out. He covers himself quickly with a towel. Charles is
hesitant to go outside with nothing on. He slowly opens the door and peeks into
the room.
 
“Hi daddy!” Waves Lucas from the middle of the room. The boy smiles, wearing
short pants and high socks. He’s looks like he’s ready for school.
Charles chokes on the sight and sinks to his knees, letting the door swing
open.
“Daddy are you okay?” The boy comes over and shakes his shoulder. “Are you
hungry? Grandmother, I mean Mrs. Xavier sent me to get you for breakfast. Do
you want waffles, Daddy?”
Charles stares at his son, tears clouding his eyes. He raises a hand to push
through what he’s sure is an illusion.
Lucas laughs, “Daddy that tickles!” He stands up and moves away from Charles,
“Get dressed and come on to Grandmother’s room.”
Charles starts bawling. “Lucas!” He grabs his son and stands up with him in his
arms. Months of grief and guilt then suddenly his child is alive and whole. He
holds him close and kisses his hair. “Lucas!” He can’t find the words to
express how he feels. Lucas squirms in his grasp.
“Daddy you are getting my clothes wet!” He scrambles down, but Charles still
holds his hands in a death grip. “Daddy let go! You’re naked!”
Charles barks out a laugh and he pulls his son back into another hug. “I know.
I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lucas. I’m so fucking
sorry.” He sobs into his son’s hair.
Lucas pulls away and pats his once perfectly combed hair, “That’s gross! You’re
all snotty, daddy. I am not a tissue.” He says seriously. “I’m a little boy.”
Charles grins before grabbing his son’s face and kissing him all over his
cheeks and forehead. “My little boy. And you’re okay. How? How did this
happen?”
Lucas escapes him again. “Dad! Stop slobbering on me.” He pouts at Charles.
“I’m going to tell Aunt Raven you’re up here having some kind of fit.” He runs
off and leaves his father on the floor.
Charles doesn’t have time to absorb the shock of finding his son alive and
well. He’s just getting off the floor when Ambrose and Mr. Reeves blow into the
room.
Ambrose sighs deeply, “Good lord in heaven. You look twelve years old.”
Mr. Reeves inspects Charles with a frown, “He looks fine to me.”
“Fine!” Ambrose throws his or her hands up in the air. “I don’t work with fine!
The Great Patriarch demands perfection! Image! Solidarity! We can’t have him
standing up there this afternoon with a child bride from some Dickens’ novel!”
Charles flinches at the words and backs away, “I’m not sure what’s going on
here. I want you two…” he starts unsure of what he wants. He adjusts the towel
around his waist. “Just give me a minute, okay? I don’t understand what’s
going. How did this all happen? The Great Patriarch is insane and he’s taken
over the world. How did he bring Lucas back? Where’s Logan?”
Ambrose clicks at him and slaps Mr. Reeves until the fumbling young man leaves
and returns with a rack of clothes.
“Language Professor. I get that you’ve been out of it for a spell but there’s
no reason to slander the Great Patriarch. Now let’s see… Red, violet, blue. The
press is eating up this story of ‘the Ancient One returns to full power’. It’s
trending all over the world. Twiggy did this thing with ornate costumes and a
strong Egyptian motif, you know?” Ambrose looks at the racks, pulling out at
thin linen suit. “And after that everyone started going tribal. It’s insane.
Let’s size you for some gladiator sandals.”
“No,” says Charles gently. Whatever his friends have accepted, he will not just
go along with it. He hopes by just playing along he doesn’t throw up any red
flags. “I’ll dress myself and go on to Sharon for breakfast. That’s what
expected of me, right?”
Mr. Reeves nods in the affirmative but Ambrose rolls his or her eyes. “Can’t
you just try on a robe or two before the conference? If the Vice President
matches Alex then I want you to match the Great Patriarch for the cover.”
Charles frowns, wondering what’s become of his friends. “Alex is the President
of the Mutant States?”
Mr. Reeves suffers for Charles’s ignorance. Ambrose slaps him on the chest
before storming out, muttering about how a little coma is no reason to keep
your head in the sand.
Mr. Reeves is more patient with Charles. “I’m to fill you in on all the details
of the last few months. You have to be all caught up by this afternoon. I’m so
glad you’re okay sir. We were all so scared after finding out that Strange was
working for that family and had experimented on you. Thank goodness for Dr.
McCoy.” He smiles, “It’s a shame he’s not here to see you up and about this
morning, sir.”
Charles wonders about Hank’s role. He tries not to act like a victim who
recently woke up and found the whole world on fire. He casually walks over to
his own closet and looks for something not trending to put on. He steps on
Logan’s bag before he sees it. Answering one suspicion before he can ask.
“Where’s Logan?”
Reeves stammers, “We haven’t seen him since the day before your surgery, sir.
He left remember?” The young man shrugs, “I think he took his dogs with him.
They never reported to the wall for guard duty.”
Charles corrects him while trying to look nonchalant, “The dogs were with me
the night he left. He said he’d be right back. Has anyone tried looking for
him?”
Reeves sits on the bed, looking completely lost. “I’m not sure sir. I’m to fill
you in on the state of Utopia and the march that’s planned on Russia next
month.”
Charles picks out a brown suit and starts getting dressed, “Then fill me in,
Mr. Reeves. What the hell is going on? Who is the president of Utopia for
starters?”
Reeves shakes his head before grinning. “There’s no president sir. We’ve
decentralized, just like you wanted. Each state, each country is autonomous
again. There’s a president in every nation, and all the nations fall under the
Utopian Confederacy.” He smiles like the star student delivering an oral
report. “With the Great Patriarch as the head of the Confederate Parliament.”
Charles sighs and rests his head on the doorjamb of his closet. “That is a
unitary system. Not a confederacy. The Great Patriarch has made himself Queen
of England.”
Reeves looks aghast from the comparison. “No, sir! We’ve thought of all that.
He holds a position at the head of the parliament, not power over the
individual states.”
“A position,” starts Charles as he puts on his jacket, “That he will never come
down from. That creates policy for all the states in the confederacy, and
controls all the powers of the presidents governing in his name. Right?”
Reeves blushes, “You should like one of those magazines. They’re all loons and
naysayers, sir. They don’t understand… I mean it was your plan. You laid
everything out for us.”
Charles shakes his head, sitting down and putting on his shoes, “I called for
decentralization. I asked for the Great Patriarch to step down after elections.
Did he do that?”
“No… but the war with Russia...”
“What bloody war!” Charles throws his shoe at the poor man.
Reeves dodges him and stands up, pointing a finger awkwardly at his boss. “You
started it sir. Remember?”
Charles puts his head in his hands and sighs again. Things aren’t looking any
better. But at least his son is alive. “Get out, Mr. Reeves. I’ll go to
breakfast on my own.”
“But my briefing sir,” the man protests. “And I have to show you to Mrs.
Xavier’s residence.”
“Residence,” Charles sits up and looks at him with a confused face. “I know the
way to my mother’s rooms. It’s not a residence.”
Mr. Reeves eyes shift from side to side as he backs out of the bedroom,
“There’s been some construction to the palace sir. I could show you where your
new rooms are…”
Charles throws his other shoe and the man beats a hasty retreat out the door.
 
Charles feels bad about his behavior a second later. None of this is Mr.
Reeves’ fault. He gets up and steels himself in front his mirror. He’s not
certain of anything anymore.
“Take your time,” he tells himself in the mirror. “Investigate. Play along.
Move when it’s necessary. Strike when it’s time. Act appropriate.” His
reflection seems to agree with him so he finds his shoes and finally leaves his
room. The doors are all open now. He can move around the palace unimpeded. The
halls are busy now. Attendants and staff running the halls. He passes a group
of architects as they rush toward the Great Hall.
There’s no one from Darwin’s guard positioned anywhere. In fact, he realizes,
there’s no military force in the palace at all. He doesn’t see a single man or
woman in uniform all the way to his mother’s old rooms.
He stops when finds the way corded off for construction.
“The new ballroom,” Charles turns to see Erik standing behind him. He’s wearing
an all-black suit. He makes a striking figure, tall and beautiful. He smiles
down at Charles, “The old ballroom had better evening light. It’s more
flattering apparently. Your mother claimed it for her residence. She’s built up
a little mansion over there.”
Charles turns his back on the man, “How did this happen? And why the fuck are
you here?”
Erik gets close enough for Charles to feel his breath on the back of his neck.
“I wanted to be near you again. I have that and all that was promised me thanks
to your false god. We can be together now, Charles. On top of the whole world.”
Charles turns around gives Erik an ugly look, scowling as he looks down his
nose at the man. “Together? You’re a dog now, Erik. And you stood by as your
master just…” he breaks off with a sob. He tries turns back around and takes a
few steps, “I’m too tired for this. I think I have long day ahead of me.
Please, just go away.”
Erik circles around to the front of him. Charles can’t bring himself to stop
the man. The one constant in his life, he thinks. Erik Lehnsherr loves him to
the point of obsession. Its idolatry. And if that’s not a weapon primed to be
used, he don’t know what is. He lets Erik touch his face before pulling away.
“I mean it. Please. Just leave me alone,” he walks away quickly and bumps into
a few people on the way to his mother’s new rooms.
There he finds Lucas on the floor, playing with his toy soldiers. The boy looks
at him with a frown. “You’re not going to hug me again are you?”
Charles laughs, “No. My love… I don’t understand. I thought I lost you.”
Lucas shrugs. “I know. That’s what Grandmother said. I mean Mrs. Xavier.   She
said she thought I was gone forever and ever. But I was just like you. Asleep.
Waiting for the Great Patriarch to call me for my true purpose.” He looks at
Charles, his face more like Moira’s than Charles remembered. “I’m the real
heir, he said. He told the whole world that. So all the pretenders have to come
to Gray City and acknowledge me soon. Or else,” he smiles. “I can’t wait for my
next birthday.   It’s going to be fantastic, Daddy. I asked for a pony and he
gave me a horse! I can have anything I want, now.” He goes back to his toys,
“Can we name a city after Mom? I want to name Moscow, Moira. Moira, Russia.
How’s that?”
Charles nods along. He’s proud of himself for not falling apart again. “That’s
lovely darling. But I think the Russian’s might not let us change the name.”
Lucas knocks all of his soldiers over, “But it won’t matter after we burn it
down, will it Daddy?”
Charles almost stumbles from the words, “I rather not do something so drastic,
Lucas.”
Lucas looks up at him coldly, “Get with it, Dad. You are his sword. What’s the
point in being a blunt instrument?” He stands up, leaving his toys all over the
floor. “I already ate,” he snaps off before heading for the door.
Charles thinks his baby boy looks almost a head taller. He shouldn’t be so
tall. Aren’t four year olds supposed to be smaller and less… bloodthirsty?
Blunt instrument. Charles frowns at the wording and quickly crosses over to his
son, shaking his shoulders. “Who are you really?”
Lucas removes his hand, this time with an incredible strength. He looks his
father in the eye, “I am Lucas Xavier. I don’t have to answer to anyone. Not
even you.”
“Oh baby, don’t start that…” slurs Sharon. She walks in with a glass in hand.
“He’s been so priggish since he woke up. He’s been spoiled rotten, that one.”
She stumbles to a table and slouches. “Well look what the cat dragged in!”
Charles is happy to see her alive. He goes to her and kneels at her feet.
Kissing her hands and laying his head her lap. She laughs at him but he stays
there, despite the smell of stale alcohol and Chanel perfume. Her new residence
has heavy wood furnishings, dark panels and muted paint. It’s like she’s
carrying Westchester in her back pocket. This receiving room opens to the
outside, where he can see a new garden blooming with her favorite flowers.
She pushes him away and snaps her fingers, “Honey, I want you meet someone.
She’s lovely. A bit in ‘the family way’, but lovely.” She calls out to the
garden, “Come in here dear and meet Charles.”
Charles stands up as the girl that follows Max Xorn around comes inside. She is
round with child, but she doesn’t have the glow he’s heard most pregnant women
obtain. She looks hollowed out, skinny cheeks and big sad eyes. She tries to
offer Charles a clumsy curtsy before he has time to stand up and greet her.
She covers her mouth with one hand, and then apologizes. “Morning sickness.
I’ve been unwell lately. You’ll have to excuse me for not being my best.”
Charles tries to control his emotions. Everything that’s happened to this poor
girl is his fault, he reasons. She wouldn’t have been victimized by Erik if he
had just followed through and killed the man back in the Hellfire club. He
offers her a tight smile, thinking of how alike she is to the gray woman he
couldn’t save. “Charles Xavier. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he
says walking up to her and offering a hand. “Let me assure you Miss, that you
look radiant this morning.” He gives her his best charming smile, trying not to
traumatize her further.
“Magda Xorn.” She smiles brightly, “I’m the Great Judge’s wife.”
Charles cocks his head, “Great Judge? Do you mean Erik?” He looks back at his
mother. “I’d like a long conversation with someone about all this…”
Sharon raises her hands to her temples, seemingly pained by a headache. “I
can’t right now, baby. Mummy’s a bit tucked in.”
“Grandmother’s hungover,” chimes Lucas from the floor.
That pulls an awkward laugh from Magda, “Mrs. Xavier is a true lady. But her
responsibilities leave her stressed. She may have over-indulged last night.”
Charles looks back his mother and sees her trying to get up. He goes to help
her, but she waves him away. “I’m fine. I’m going to go lie down before the
conference. Make sure you wear something blue, baby. It always brings out your
eyes. And take off that ugly suit. It doesn’t even fit you properly.” She goes
up a flight of stairs, presumably to her new bedroom on the second floor.
Magda smiles before giving him another odd curtsy, “I’d like to lie down as
well. Another time Mr. Xavier.” She tries to follow Sharon but Lucas finally
gets up from the floor.
“Don’t forget,” he says giving her mean smile, “You’re not invited to the
conference. Stay inside and keep out of sight when the cameras are on. Uncle
Erik doesn’t want to be seen with you right now.” He looks over his shoulder
and stage whispers, “It’s not his baby!”
“Lucas,” chides Charles. “That is rude! Apologize at once to this young woman!”
Lucas smirks, ignoring his father as he pushes past the girl to get out the
door and go in the garden.
Charles stares after his son with his mouth hanging open. He stammers as he
addresses Magda, “I… I… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He
was never… he’s not usually a rude little… little…”
Magda ducks her head, “Growing pains. My mother said little boys test their
boundaries. I’m praying every day for a girl.” She pats her belly and smiles at
Charles. “Thank you for being so considerate, Mr. Xavier. You’re a fine
gentleman. Just as Sharon said.” She blushes and hurries upstairs before
Charles can reply.
He shakes his head and leaves without eating anything.
Just outside the door, Hank is waiting with a bouquet of flowers. “Charles!
You’re awake!”
Charles doesn’t register his own arm as it swings and his fist connects with
Hank’s face. He’s left with blurry afterimage burned behind his eyelids as he
huddles on the floor. He stays down there while Hank sputters and sniffles a
few feet away. When Charles looks up at his old friend, the younger man sits
nearby, his head tilted up and blood streaming down his face. The flowers are
all over the place, some petals caught in Hank’s hair. The man looks at Charles
with confusion written on his face.
Charles gets up without saying a word to him.
He hurries back to his room, feeling overwhelmed by all the changes.
He finds the Great Patriarch wearing Tessa’s face in the sitting room, standing
near the bedroom doors.
%MCEPASTEBIN%
***** Silk and Obi *****
                         Gray_City,_Utopia_October_1967
                                        
Charles closes the doors to his rooms and leans back on them. “Anymore
revelations? Are there any more surprises or shocks to give me today? Honestly,
I’m a little worn out at this point.”
En Sabah Nur gives him that slow smile again. The one that Charles should have
been wary of from the beginning. Instead he trusted this creature. He loved
him, in a way. He believed. And now every trauma and nightmare he’s ever faced
is eclipsed by the living devil that has possessed his friends, his family, and
his whole world.
Charles still feels weak after waking up. He still can’t access his own powers
but he feels the Great Patriarch gently nudging at his mind. Telling him to
just trust. Asking for his obedience.
“Don’t be frightened, my child.”
Charles shakes his head violently and raises a shaking hand, pointing his
finger. “Don’t ever call me that again. Don’t call me ‘son’. Don’t wear my
father’s face. Don’t… Don’t pretend you love me at all. You took all of my hope
and trust last night and you smashed it to pieces!”
The Great Patriarch sighs, “Oh my starlight…”
“Don’t!”
“I must. You have to understand. I did you a favor last night. You woke up in a
new world. One where you are now truly a sovereign. No more bowing or scraping
or pretending, Charles. Last night, we assured that the one person capable of
still compromising you would always know who you really belonged to. Do you
think I let the Archangel touch you out of spite? It was to show Magneto that
you are no longer a toy for his whimsy. You will do as you please. You do as I
order you to. Beyond that, he no longer has a claim on you.   Don’t you see,
child?”
Charles shakes his head as he sobs, “No. I don’t see anything. But a liar and a
rapist.”
The god changes shape, taking what Charles assumes is his real form. The young
blue skinned man with black lips, this time wearing only a then pair of linen
pants. He walks over slowly to where Charles is trembling by the doors. He
stops and stretches out a hand, gently touching Charles on the shoulder. “I get
no pleasure from hurting you Charles. But the key to your strength is your
ability to adapt to your pain. Even your mutation.” He smiles as his hand falls
away. “You are like a baby bird. Once you are pushed out of the nest you…”
“Climb back up with a knife,” bites off Charles. “What do you think I’ll do
this time?”
The god laughs, “Something beautiful. I see so much potential in you my Red
Horse. I promise you, now.” He steps away, with his hands raised. “There will
never be another demonstration of our union. You are consort in name only to
protect us both. I have had so many wives and consorts. So many children. They
have all disappointed me in one way or another. Now I have you. I name you
consort. Your only son, is my heir. All the others before you must recognize
this, and there will be no one after.”
Charles stays still as En Sabah Nur leans in to give him a chaste kiss on the
cheek.
“I promise to never force myself on you again. Perhaps you will return my love
as time goes on.” He backs away, and reaches behind Charles for the door. He
adds, “Your powers will return in time. In the meantime, I want you to remember
that you asked for this. I have given you everything you ever wanted, Charles.
I still have such wonders to share with you.” He lets himself out as Charles
slides over.
He’s left to process the man’s words in his own time.
It takes all of two minutes for him decide that the Great Patriarch is lying.
Another two minutes for him decide on fighting this. He feels another gentle
nudge on his mind and tries to block it. He feels an impression of amusement
but keeps trying anyway.   The voices that gave him strength earlier tell him
to calm down and rest. He goes into his bedroom to find a cart of food. He
ignores it, and simply tucks himself into bed. Charles sleeps on Logan’s side,
his face in Logan’s pillow.
 
Later, Charles wakes up to music.
“My boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna be in trouble…”
He sits up to the sound of The Angels clapping along with the catchy song.
Ambrose’s voice raises above the record and Charles hears the clattering of
hangers in the next room. He wishes he could stay in bed and further process
his position in all this. But he gets up, still in a wrinkled brown suit and
with tousled hair.
Ambrose stops dancing along to look at him, “I have so much work to do.”
Charles is no position to disagree.
After an hour of being combed, pressed, and stuck like a pincushion Charles is
dressed in what Ambrose deems as appropriate attire. Ambrose chatters on at
turns annoyed by Charles and others happy. “You are so cute I could just
squeeze you to death!” Charles is at the end of rather inhumanly strong
embrace. Ambrose lets up to cluck at him, “Stand up straight!” Ambrose switches
form before his eyes, adopting the look a man with a slight but well-groomed
beard. “Like a gentlemen,” he says with a much deeper voice.
Charles is still fascinated with other mutations. He reaches out to touch the
hair on Ambrose’s face, “Could you always do that?”
Ambrose slaps his hand away, but smiles, “No. The Great Patriarch has blessed
my gift. Now I can be whatever I want, like Ms. Raven.”
Charles is happy to see Ambrose happy, but he’s concerned about this so-called
blessing. He lets Ambrose finish dressing him. He ends up dressed in rich blue
robes. He called it a kimono and Ambrose pinched him for it. His hair is parted
over his ears, the top half pulled up into surprisingly fluffy bun. Charles is
left standing up on an ottoman, staring at three mirrors.
“I look like a geisha,” he frowns at his reflection from every angle. Thinking
the look is better suited for fancy dress than some sort political conference.
“OH!” Ambrose bends over another cart, “I didn’t even think of makeup! And your
lips are already so red!”
Charles starts to protest for what little dignity he has left, when the doors
open.
 
Erik and a small team of men he’s never seen before blow in. Erik frowns at
Ambrose, “Who the fuck are you?”
Ambrose gasps, “Great Judge Xorn! What are you doing here?”
Erik’s men are apparently tailors. They push out Ambrose’s carts and racks and
bring in their own things. Erik grabs Ambrose by the arm and pushes him out the
door, “I’m going to make sure Charles looks appropriate. I don’t want the press
thinking this is a time for frivolity. We only have two more hours to work
with.” He closes the doors and instructs his men to strip Charles back down.
Charles raises his hand, daring anyone to touch him, “No! That’s enough for
today. I will dress myself, however I see fit. I am not a doll!” He climbs down
from the ottoman and ignores the look Erik gives him as he gathers up the train
of his robes, “Everyone out! Especially you!” He indicates Erik and turns his
back on the room as he goes into the bedroom.
Erik follows him, of course. He laughs, “You rather go out in front of the
cameras dressed like that?” He smiles looking down at Charles’s bare feet, then
slowly dragging his gaze upwards. “You’ll certainly make the cover of every
magazine. I collect those, by the way. You’re good in front of the camera.”
“Shut up, Erik.” Charles moves to his closet, but doesn’t risks changing in
front of Erik. “Get out and leave me alone. Great Judge… pfft.” He shakes his
head while going through his things, “How on earth did you win that title? Has
everyone taken up LSD or something? Is this world some sort of mass illusion?”
Erik tilts his head and scratches his chin, “My Father did an interesting
experiment on our army once…”
“No,” says Charles. “I don’t want to hear any funny stories about Shaw and your
evil-doing childhood. Just…” He stops himself as a voice in his head directs
his attention toward the bottom of the closet. Logan’s bag has disappeared
since this morning. “Odd,” he says aloud and bends down to inspect the empty.
“Odd that they would take that now.”
“What,” says Erik as steps closer to Charles and looks into the closet. “What
are we staring at?”
“Nothing,” he says. He smiles as he thinks he smells something like wood and
cigars in the air. “Nothing at all.”
Charles rises to his feet and Erik looks down at him, then pointedly at the
bed. “It’s my birthday today, Charles. I’m thirty-eight years old.”
Charles sighs and pushes past him, “Mazel Tov, Erik. I don’t see why I should
give a damn.”
“Because your loving god is throwing me party this weekend. But first we have
to re-introduce you as the Great Sword.” He grins, “Dramatic isn’t he?”
“You’ve no place to talk, darling.” Charles says. It’s scary how easy it’s
always been to talk to Erik. When the man isn’t being a terror, they sound like
old friends. He spent so long playing house with Erik, that they almost sound
like an old married couple. He tries to put it out of mind. “I see you’ve lost
your mask, Max. I met your wife earlier. The poor child.”
Erik shrugs, “She’ll be fine. I think the Archangel is keeping an eye on her
and honestly what is probably his little brother or sister. I didn’t do any
lasting damage.” He gives Charles a big smile, “The press barely tolerates her
for some reason. They think I can do better. They might remember when I had you
on my arm, somehow in their subconscious minds. En Sabah Nur had my face erased
from history, and I get to start again as Max Xorn. But every now and then some
idiot calls me Erik.”
Charles crosses his arms and keeps his distance from Erik. He goes back to the
door, opening it and peering out to see the team of obnoxious tailors pulling
out yards of red and black fabric. He sighs and closes the door. “You got your
pardon then. And it’s that girl who can do better. She deserves better. You’ve
done nothing but torment her since you’ve met.”
Erik rolls his eyes, “You know that and I know that, but she remains oblivious.
It’s like having a puppy. Or a barnacle. I was glad to have Shiro back after
they put you down. At least he’s useful.” Charles doesn’t like the smug look on
Erik’s face as the man moves towards the bed and sits down, patting it. “Come
here, Charles. I won’t bite. This is your room. I can be respectful in your
space, remember?” He sits up straighter looking at Charles for some kind of
reward.
Charles feels his stomach flip in revulsion, his nose crinkles as he opens the
door. “If you call not fucking me every moment in Prague, ‘respectful’ then you
can leave right now. In fact, leave anyway. You’re the last person I wanted to
see today.”
Erik sighs at the dismissal, ignoring Charles and laying out on the bed. With
his shoes on. “I think you’re tired. Come here and let me help you out of those
ridiculous clothes.”
“No!” Charles yanks the door back open. The men outside stare at the scene
inside the room. “Get out!”
They take it to mean them, and they all filter out the main doors. Charles
throws his hands up.
Erik has the nerve to laugh, “So commanding. Our Sword.” He toes off his shoes
and kick them off the bed, “Did you make it to Sharon this morning? She’s a
real piece of work, your mother. I scraped off Magda and told her to assist her
ladyship.” He smiles, “She went for it completely.” He looks around the space,
“I’m glad you’re keeping to these rooms. Easier to find you unoccupied this
way.”
Charles feels like a pot boiling over, he’s so angry. He sure he’s flushed red
at this point, so he shouts, “Unoccupied! Is that your way of saying you don’t
mind sloppy seconds, Erik! It wasn’t even a twelve hours ago that you left me
to that…. And now you don’t mind enough for a romp in my bed! Tough, Erik. I am
all sore after serving your god last night!”
“My god,” Erik quotes while scowling on the bed. “I never said he was my god,”
corrects Erik. “I can’t tolerate the thing. I am Max Xorn now. Celebrated hero
who found hundreds of mutants being experimented on by Worthington Industries.
It was enough to get Erik Lehnsherr a full pardon. The whole world knows he
gave me back my powers. The whole world knows I am grateful to be in his
service…”
He sits up on his elbows and Charles thinks he imagines unshed tears in his
eyes.
“Just come here, Charles. We were collaborating long before they went through
with their plan, remember? We were going to bring down a titan. We shouldn’t be
fighting each other on this.” He sits up and swings his feet over the edge, “We
should work together, Charles.”
 
Charles backs away into the door, sliding down it. He looks up at Erik and
hopes for once he isn’t crying. “I’m lost, Erik. I’m drowning and there’s
nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing you can do to make this better.” He
pulls his knees up and starts sobbing, hiding his face with end of the robes.
Erik gets off the bed and tugs the robes until Charles looks up. He gives
Charles a sad smile before taking one of the younger man’s hands and pulling it
to his face. He kisses Charles’s fingertips and whispers, “I didn’t want to
swear allegiance to another Shaw. I wanted to make my own place in the world. I
want you by my side in it. That will never change. And all of this drowning…”
He bites the tip of Charles index finger making the younger man flinch. He
smiles as nibbles his way down the finger and back up again. “You don’t have to
swim against the water, Charles. Go with it. I’ve learn how to patient under a
cruel teacher… and you learned under me.” He almost looks ashamed. Or whatever
passes for ashamed in Erik’s head. “We can be patient together now. And bring
down the new titan when its time.”
Charles tries to pull away but Erik holds on. He pull Charles arm up, letting
the sleeves slide down his arm so he can kiss the exposed wrist. Charles hates
feeling anything for the man, but it’s there all the same. He warns Erik, “En
Sabah Nur is watching me. He said you can’t touch me anymore. You don’t have
his permission.”
Erik raises a brow before smirking. He opens his mouth and goes down on
Charles’s index finger, sucking hard for a quick moment before he lets go. He
pulls Charles’s hand to his chest and strokes the back of the younger man’s
fingers with his free hand. “He told me the same thing more or less. With one
addendum. That you can have whatever you want.”
Charles’s breathe catches in throat. Erik doesn’t move fast, giving him plenty
of time to object or move away. He sits still while the older man parts the
silk over his knees and runs his long fingers down to Charles’s bare thighs.
Charles watches, as the voices in his head boo at the turn of events. He
imagines an audience throwing popcorn at the screen. But he can’t seem to care.
Not when Erik already knows his body. Exactly how to touch and where and for
how long to drive him mad with wanting. Charles shudders as Erik rucks up the
silk tied around his waist, reaches back to grab a handful of his ass.
Charles gasps and that switches something on in Erik. He launches forward,
kissing Charles hard on the mouth. He uses both hands to start untying the obi-
like sash. Once he has Charles front bare he backs away to look at his
handiwork, licking his lips. “Look at you, Charles. I don’t know where to start
with you.”
Charles lets his head fall back against the door as Erik starts mouthing his
neck and collarbones. He doesn’t even bother with being quiet. He moans and
writhes, half-hoping En Sabah Nur is looking on and rethinking his choices.
Surely no one this wanton is worthy of a God’s misplaced affections. He feels
almost desperate to have Erik’s cock at this point. Why would anyone want him
after? How did Logan put up with this? His mind wanders as his body goes on
autopilot, rocking into Erik’s hand as the other man grips his hardening cock.
Erik suddenly grunts and manages to lift Charles, sliding him up the door while
he repositions them. Charles is spread out around Erik, his legs askew while
Erik quickly undoes the front of his pants. He kisses Charles everywhere
there’s bare skin. His chest, his arms, his neck, and back to that wrist. He
bites down hard, before sucking a very red mark into Charles’s skin. He smirks
at the younger man he uses one hand to steady Charles against the door and
slips the fingers of his other into Charles’s mouth.
Charles sucks eagerly, knowing how he’d prefer to be taken. When he’s sure
he’ll be wet enough he lets go to quickly kiss Erik, “Don’t blame me when he
sets your brain on fire.”
Erik stretches him and smiles, “I blame you for everything. It’s all your
fault. Everything that’s ever happened to me… but that’s okay. I love you,
Charles.” He kisses Charles before pulling his fingers out, lifting Charles
while lines up his cock. “I love you more than anything in this whole world.
Even my own life.”
Charles would love to ignore Erik as he wax poetic, but that little declaration
is important. The voices in his head scream at him to ‘remember’ and he doesn’t
know what he’s supposed to remember this time. He never forgot what it feels
like to be stretched by Erik’s cock. He’s annoyed to think that all that happy,
consenting sex he had with Logan pales in comparison to this, whatever it is.
He shrugs his way out of one the sleeves, feeling overheated by the silk. Erik
attacks that bare shoulder with his teeth as he starts thrusting upwards.
Ambrose is going to be so cross about the robes, thinks Charles. Erik has no
problem shucking the all the cloth off. He reaches up and undoes the ridiculous
bun grinning as he bumps his forehead against Charles’s.
“Don’t…” says Charles and Erik listens not teasing him for it. Instead he lays
Charles out on the floor, amongst all the blue finery.
“I’ll have to call my tailors back…” He grunts as he shoves his cock back into
Charles’s hole. “You still,” he stops to shudder and pulls to grip himself at
the base of his cock. “Fuck. You’ve already undone me.” He laughs and leans in
to kiss Charles while taking the younger man’s cock in hand. “Let me even the
playing field.”
“Shut up, Erik.” Charles thinks of this as itch. And it needs to be dealt with
now before he goes out before the public, probably paraded on the Great
Patriarch’s arm. Erik pumps him quickly and Charles almost too distracted to
notice the stretch of his body around the blunt head of Erik’s cock. It slams
back in and Charles lets out a loud groan.
Erik covers his mouth and starts rocking gently. “Shh, before we are caught.
You want me to be roasted before you come?” He smirks.
Charles rides on multiple sensations. Hating Erik. Wanting to come. Hating the
Great Patriarch. Wanting to come. Perhaps if he thinks hard enough, En Sabah
Nur will get the message and roast Erik after he comes.
Charles spurs the man on, but Erik keeps going at his own pace. Slowly. Gently.
Its too much like what he had with Logan, thinks Charles. Too much like that
happy sex that the man tried to heal him with. Charles doesn’t want that. Not
with Erik.
He leans up to bite Erik on the neck and that does the trick. The in and out
becomes more punishing. Charles arches his back and closes his eyes. Relishes
in the feeling of finally being fucked.
“Did I not please you, my Starlight?”
Charles sees the black-lip smile behind his eyelids, it’s a shocks just he
comes between their bodies.
Erik keeps going while Charles has shaken through his own climax. His body is a
mess as he is suddenly paralyzed with fear. He opens his eyes as Erik keeps
thrusting. The man is near coming now that he’s seen Charles get off. Charles
turns his head to the side and Erik bites what will be more bruises into his
jaw and neck. Ambrose will have to get the makeup out after all, he thinks.
Erik is near coming when he puts his hands around Charles’s neck.
Charles gasps, seeing a different a floor beneath them. A turned over exam
table. The bloody head of Edie Lehnsherr. One side of the room, then the other.
Charles screams and Erik finally listens.
***** Red Birthday Banner *****
Chapter Notes
     Erik's POV
                         Gray_City,_Utopia_October_1967
                                        
This is not what he expected.
Charles is a convulsing mess on the floor. His eyes rolled back and the noise,
oh god, thinks Erik. He worries he squeezed too hard and has broken something.
Wasn’t Charles completely healed? “Daniel!” Erik stops as he gets up,
remembering that the traitor signed his own death sentence. The idiot. He does
up his pants and kneels back down, careful to not touch Charles’s neck or head.
Charles shakes and seizes on the floor. Erik tilts him to the side in case he
vomits. This is not at all what he expected, Erik thinks again. He thought at
this point there’d be spooning. He thought he’d erase all the damage done
between them. Instead he’s broken something and Charles is back to being
crippled. He could hardly contain himself the whole time Charles was last in a
wheelchair.   Never mind the repercussions he can expect from the false god.
The thing told him he could fuck Charles, if Charles said yes. They were all in
agreement. Charles agreed and then this happened.
“Stop being so hysterical!” He shakes Charles’s shoulder in a panic, “Please,
recover yourself! Control yourself, Charles! Wake up!”
Charles doesn’t respond, only the whites of his eyes visible as he starts to
foam at the mouth.
“Fuck!” Erik has to leave him to get help, but he’s not sure who to tell. He
pounds the floor near Charles’s head in frustration as he makes his mind up to
go get McCoy.
 
 It doesn’t take long for Charles to be carted off to McCoy’s lab. Erik had
tried to clean up the mess they made, covered his tracks for what it’s worth.
McCoy still glared at him as he backed Charles out of the room on a gurney.
Erik sighs when they’re all gone, the stress finally breaking in him. He goes
to the bed and lies back down, wondering what they’ll do about the conference
if Charles isn’t better in time. Then he remembers the suit and fittings.
Charles should have matched him and the other horsemen, he thought. They were
supposed to present a united front, standing just behind the false god as he
gave Charles his title and declared war on the rest of the world.
Erik slumps against the headboard thinking this is the worst birthday he’s ever
had.
“Hardly,” corrects the false god in his head.
“Don’t start that, you fucking bastard!” He shouts at thin air, knowing the
mutant is nearby. “You set me up! Now Charles will never let me touch him
again!”
“Good. He should have learned this lesson long ago. Nothing good can come of
you two conspiring against me.”
“Fuck off, I’m not in the mood to be chastised.” Erik folds his arms and
pretends he can’t hear any of the words being pushed into his head.
“Such children. The both of you are indeed a match. So petulant and stubborn.
You can’t recall how you hurt the things you love? How you learned to be so
indelicate in the first place. I feel ice still surrounds your memories. Would
you like them back?”
“I said fuck of—“ Erik falls over the side of the bed as something in his head
cracks. Charles was right, he thinks. The false god is going set his brain on
fire.
The pain melts away and Erik is back to viewing scenes he half experienced or
remembered before.
 
Ruth dresses a doll in Shaw’s old office. She’s gained a little weight since
their escape. Not like Erik, though. She’s pale and her eyes are little
jaundiced from her anemia. She looks up at Erik while he does classwork. Shaw
wants him to speak Spanish fluently so Erik is learning their alphabet first.
He used to practice while sitting at Shaw’s desk. Ruth is still a baby so she
doesn’t have any work.
He looks over to where she’s holding a red dress and trying to sew on a button.
He smirks at her before moving the needle with his powers, sewing the little
button back on perfectly. She looks at him with a grateful smile, now mostly
empty space since she’s lost several teeth at the same time. “Thank you,
Maggi.”
He nods at her continues his work.
Papa comes in, the room looking between his children. “Get up, we’re leaving.”
Erik frowns, “Why? I’m not finished my homework.”
Papa picks up Ruth, “Now Erik. We don’t have time to waste. I found a car and I
want you two outside now while I get your mother. Come on, hurry.”
Erik gets up and follows his father. The mansion they’re hiding in is vast. He
stops just outside the kitchen doors, remembering Krakow. His parents don’t
always know what’s best after all. If they had listened to him, they wouldn’t
have suffered. Erik stops moving like he did on the rooftops of the ghetto.
“Papa, wait!”
Ruth sucks on her thumb nervously. She looks sleepy and Erik can’t figure out
why his father would want to take them away. In the cold Austrian air, she’ll
get sick. “We can’t leave. It’s safe here. Why are you trying to get us
killed?”
Papa reaches out and pulls him by the shirt, “Come on and get the car, Erik. We
don’t have time for this. I still have to get your mother back.”
“No, comrade that’s far enough.” They all stop and turn to face Azazel. He
waves a finger at them all. “The boy is right. It’s safe here. You’re making a
big mistake exposing yourself and that malá myška. You’ll both be sick in that
air.”
Erik nods along agreeing. He pulls away as he father glares at Azazel. “Papa
stop being stubborn. You’ll get us all killed, being a coward!” He stamps his
foot and marches back to Shaw’s office ignoring his father as he calls him
back.
That night Shaw came into his bedroom with a little box. He brushed Erik’s hair
and give him a good night kiss, “Don’t open that until morning. It’s a
wonderful surprise.” He poked Erik in the middle of his nose before leaving.
Erik resisted temptation for what felt like hours. He looked at his clock to
see only twenty minutes had passed.
He reached over and opened the little box, hoping for more chocolates or gold
coins.
Instead he found a picture of his mother, round in the belly. She looked young,
he thought. Maybe too young but Erik’s sure he’s the baby. He grins down at the
photo wondering how Shaw saved it. It must have been in their house before the
soldiers came. Knowing something of theirs has survived makes his heart feel
warm. He gets up and leaves his room, hoping to share this gift with his
mother.
He finds his parents door locked. Erik frowned at that and pressed his ear to
the door. He heard moaning and grunting and quickly backed away. He almost
forgotten his parents could do that and at the time he blushed as he ran back
to his room.
The next morning he presented his mother with the gift at the breakfast table.
She was so overwhelmed by it she started crying. Ruth had marveled at it and
asked where babies come from. Erik blushed, brazenly telling her they might
have a new brother or sister soon enough. He grinned at his mother but she
didn’t return his humor. She kept on crying and crying until Shaw came to the
table. He went straight to Mama and put his big hands on her shoulder.
“I see you’ve already heard the sad news. I’m so sorry, Edie. I wish we had
better doctors here.” He kisses her on the head before sitting at the head of
the table. Papa’s chair conspicuously empty.
Erik frowns up at his benefactor, “What has happened, Herr Schmidt?”
The man snaps out a napkin as he settles before his meal. “I’m afraid you Papa
went outside in the cold last night Erik. He got sick and quickly passed away.
I’m very sorry for your lost.” He starts to eat and Erik felt all the air leave
his body. Ruth is blubbering mess and Mama is still crying.
He shakes his head, “He was fine yesterday. He was running up and down the
halls. I don’t know where he wanted to go but he was fine, sir. He was just
fine!”
Schmidt narrows his eyes at them, “Appearances can be deceiving. You were all
in poor health after what the humans did to you, Erik. He’s been unhealthy for
a long time. I’m afraid it finally caught up with him. My medical doctors were
too far away to help with the crisis this morning.”
Ruth ran out of the room crying. Mama got up to follow her. Erik remembers how
he stayed at table and stared down at Schmidt in the aftermath of his
unbelievable story.
The man checks his pocket watch before addressing Erik again, “How would you
like a new playmate Erik? I want you to meet one of my other students. She’s
been dying to get to know you.” He looks at the doorway and shakes his head,
“I’ll have to call my doctors back soon. I don’t like the look of your sister,
Erik. She not very active for a child that age. Humans are so vulnerable to
elements.”
 
Erik comes to on the floor, the truth of what really happened in that ice laden
castle ringing clear in his mind. He shakes his head and tries to put it behind
him. This isn’t news, he tells himself. It’s just another telepath trying to
fuck with his head.
He gets up and goes to check on Charles.
The halls are quiet and still. Erik checks his watch and sees he’s already five
minutes late for the conference. Reporters and world leaders will already be
gathering inside the Great Hall. He turns into his own rooms to change into
something more appropriate. He finds another black suit. One with a mandarin
collar to hide the obvious bruising on his neck. After combing back his hair he
hurries back to the Great Hall. The rooms behind it are for them to gather and
prepare between presentations. He still puts on the mask Max Xorn wears, unsure
of how many minds the false god can control at once.
Erik and the false God have rebuilt much of the palace. There are five rooms
are connected but offer each horseman privacy and office space. He would have
rather have it uniform, but his own room is spare and sleek. The false god’s is
a marble disaster and Warren’s is surprisingly nouveau-riche. There’s a tree
and an open ceiling in the earth goddess’s room. Erik liked the natural
lighting so much he enlisted the false god’s help in putting a glass dome over
the Great Hall.
He comes in just in time to see N’Dare and Warren gathering in their entryway
to the Great Hall. N’Dare wears a white and green dress, her hair loose and
spilling behind her in curls. Warren wears a suit of grey with a bright yellow
tie. How his handlers get him dressed, Erik has no idea.
Warren sneers at him, “I can’t believe you did that so soon after the union.
Have you no fucking shame, you damn animal!”
N’Dare stares forward. She rarely speaks her mind and the false god keeps her
thoughts closed off for these little demonstrations. Erik teases Warren.
“Charles asked me,” he starts while looking at the cuff of his right arm. “He
wasn’t content with that weak performance. He said he needed me,” Erik says
with a smirk.
Warren’s skin changes, his illusion of pink skin he wears fading away. He looks
like death now, blue-gray and terrifying to some with those metal wings.
To Erik, he looks like a giant toy. He merely flicks his fingers at the
clockwork array that makes ups Warren’s appendages.
N’Dare stops them from starting a fight, “Enough. Apocalypse calls for us.” She
opens the doors and marches into the Great Hall. They step up to the new dais
he finished this morning. Five thrones in v-formation, rising up the steps of
their little pyramid. At the top, is En Sabah Nur’s throne. Directly below
that, is Charles’s and N’Dare’s. Below that is Erik’s and Warren’s.
He walks over to his own seat and stands in front of as the others do the same.
They wait as the room quiets, a few shutters going off to take their pictures.
One reporter rudely speaks into a microphone, narrating the event. Erik crushes
it and leaves the stupid woman stuttering.
 
Erik looks at the crowd, resisting the urge to look back and see if Charles is
okay.
In a theatrical twist they come in through the main doors marching up to the
thrones. En Sabah Nur follows Charles, wearing a deep violet robes, his hands
behind his back. He looks very pleased with himself. Charles wears a red suit,
and marches ahead. He does so with such precision, that Erik expects him to be
on puppet strings like N’Dare. He’s shocked when Charles comes to a stop in
front of him. His eyes are clear and he gives the crowd a warm smile. He even
breaks decorum to give one the reporters a shy wave. He’s as charming as the
press remembers and the shutters go off instantly.
The false god marches up to the steps, laying a heavy hand on Charles shoulder
before climbing up to his own seat. “I introduce, the fourth High Councilman of
the Utopian Confederacy. Charles Francis Xavier. The Great Sword.”
Charles follows him, sparing Erik a small glance as he stands before his
throne. They all sit after the false god opens the floor for questions. The
young man Charles waved to earlier takes the first one, “Charles… I mean Great
Sword.” He smiles and Charles looks at him fondly, “I am so happy to see you
fully recovered. We were all so scared for you after the attack. May I ask how
you are feeling?”
Charles nods, “Yes. Thank you, Aaron. I’m in fine spirits. I’m happy to see my
real friends have survived the upset. I’m happy to have my son again.” He looks
up at the false god, “I’m thankful for the blessings the Great Patriarch has
bestowed on me. And the camaraderie of my new council.” He eyes N’Dare and puts
his hand over his heart. “I’m especially thankful to have so much that I
thought was lost restored to me. And to have all of you here to witness it.”
There is thunderous applause for Charles’s heartfelt answer. But one woman with
blue braids in her hair stands up abruptly. “Are you thankful for the war?! And
the genocide! My brother is dead, Charles! The world is being culled by that
bastard and no one— AH!”
She falls to ground clutching her head and all eyes turn to Charles. He merely
smiles and points to another reporter, “Next question. Ah yes, Ms. Salem.” The
reporters continue as if nothing is wrong. Erik looks up at Charles and
imagines his eyes glow violet like they did when Annaud ran his experiments. He
turns away and answers the few questions directed towards him. Their audience
is dismissed after the false god reminds them all of Erik’s party on Friday.
 
 
Charles is changed. But not changed. Erik isn’t sure if it’s the Great
Patriarch’s influence. He’s not being pulled along or forced to speak like the
Earth Goddess. He seems completely normal. He mingles with the press afterwards
and speaks to politicians. Erik avoids him, thinking of the reporter. If
Charles is still angry, it’s a quiet angry. And Erik rather not be in its way.
That Friday comes with festivities that start early in the morning. Erik has to
sit through an interview and takes a few pictures. The mask comes off for the
face to face interview. The man will remember meeting handsome Max Xorn, not
Erik Lehnsherr. All that time he spent crawling amongst the rabble had almost
erased his ability to deal with this. Almost. Erik is sure the silly man asking
him questions would gladly drop his pants and bend over the table to let Erik
fuck him.
The thought keeps a smile on his face the entire time.
He’s gone without seeing Charles for almost three days. He runs across him
leaving Sharon’s residence. Charles pulls Lucas out by the ear and slaps the
boy hard across the face. Erik winces in sympathy. But honestly, he thinks.
It’s about time.
Charles kneels down to look his son in the eyes, “I will not tolerate your
continued rudeness. You will go back out there and apologize to that woman. Or
else I will set you on fire.”
The boy gasps and runs away quickly. It’s the first time Erik’s seen him afraid
of anyone. “Bravo,” he claps. “Encore.”
“Shut up, Erik.” Charles stands and gives Erik a stern look. “It’s your fault
he treats the girl like that.”
Erik shrugs, hoping to mask the little thrill he feels from fearing Charles’s
power. The man stands there, looking at Erik with disgust. Erik clears his
throat, “I never told him to be a spoiled little shit. He has that naturally.”
He raises his eyebrow and smirks at Charles.
The man surprises him and laughs, “I suppose you’re right.”
Erik’s face falls, he’s a little afraid as Charles walks up to him and pats his
shoulder good-naturedly.
He feels the warmth of having Charles’s power blanket him and it’s like
drinking water in a desert. He has to close his eyes before he can go on to the
rest of his business. Erik resets his stoic outer appearance. He’s glad for his
mask when the journalists and party-goers arrive later. Erik’s had trouble
erasing a somewhat goofy smile from his face since the encounter.
He spends the evening dancing with the wives of businessmen, talking through
his mask while making faces, and avoiding Charles. Lucas puts himself to bed
after a demonstration of his powers. Warren dazzles some plebeian onlookers
outside. N’Dare hides away most of the night. She’s been permitted to have some
time with her daughter and stays in her own residence.
En Sabah Nur walks the floors like a king. He gives his approval to the
entertainment and keeps Charles on his arm most of the night. Erik thinks of
the Glass Rook club and the Hellfire Club. How he wanted everyone to know who
Charles belonged to. Before long the sight starts to make his stomach turn.
Charles disappears before the party’s closing. En Sabah Nur excuses himself and
the guest leave feeling blessed.
Erik retires to his own rooms, just before two in the morning.
He dreams of Ruth and her dolls and her little toothless smile. The memory of
how she died makes him sad and Erik wakes up with tears in his eyes.
He’s surprised to see a shadow falling over his shoulder. He feels disconnected
from his body, and can’t move his head. A hand grabs the back of his hair,
pushing his face into his pillows. He tries to use his powers, but it doesn’t
work. He panics thinking someone in Charles’s old guard finally had the balls
to try and assassinate him.
He’s so angry that he doesn’t notice the thump, thump, thump of the headboard.
“Nearly there,” says hoarse voice behind him.
Erik would frown if he had any control of his body. His mind works out what’s
happening but his body still doesn’t registers anything. The sight of his own
backside is forced into his mind. He recognizes the warmth of Charles’s powers
and gasps.
“Chaww..” He tries to speak but no one answers him. “Wat…?”
“Shut up, Erik.”
Erik shuts up and the man continues to use him. It brings tears to Erik’s eyes,
feeling stretched. Charles hasn’t spared him any preparation. Still, Erik
smiles when he feels his channel flooded with come. Charles pulls out and
leaves him there, not bothering to clean Erik. It doesn’t matter, he thinks. He
stays put even after control of his body returns.
Finally he thinks, Charles really wants him.
***** War Horse *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                      The_Hague,_Netherlands_November_1967
                                        
Two weeks after waking up to so much change, Charles has established some daily
routines to keep himself sane.
First thing in the morning, he goes for a run. Today, he substitutes running
around the Gray Palace perimeter for running around South Holland. Charles
masks himself as a faceless gray shadow. No one stops to take pictures or ask
questions. He runs for almost two hours before returning to the hotel.
He had something of breakthrough, he thinks. If he were seeing a regular
psychiatrist he’s sure they’d be proud. He remembers lying under Erik, his mind
and body pulled different directions.
I want this. I don’t want this. Make it stop. I deserve this.
When he was pushed into a memory, floating above his own body watching as the
red helmet came down on his face before Erik twisted his neck.
It’s not a pleasant thing to relive from any perspective.
Charles felt his mind shutting down to protect itself. His was thrown out of
his body to dissociate from the pain. He found a surprise waiting for him in
the space he thinks of his own slice of the Astral Plane. He opened his eyes,
not in the familiar study or his library, or anywhere in his family mansion.
Instead he stood in front a chalk board, looking at a strange algebraic
equation. It was the classroom he taught in Belgium while he was on disability
from the Armed Forces.
 
“Professor, that’s too hard. Can’t you just quiz us on something easy… like…
like Dinah Washington?”
Someone throws a balled up piece of paper at the board and Charles has to take
deep breath before he turns around. He recognizes all of the voices but the
setting is all wrong. This isn’t his class.
“Earth to Professor X. Like, TV is the Thing This Year.”
There’s laughter and shouting and another ball whizzes past his head. Charles
finally works up the nerve to turn around.
There, in the front row being a nuisance about music, is Sean. He’s even
younger than Charles remembered. He looks removed from the young soldier
Charles knew. He could easily blend in with the crowd that followed Raven
around. Beside him sits Angel. She wears a floral sun dress. A little flower
behind her ear, the long dark waves of her hair falling over her bare
shoulders. She looks pretty and innocent and tiny. Charles never thought about
just how young she was. She was only thirteen when Erik pulled her out of
service from Shaw’s Hellfire Club, realizing her potential as an assassin early
on.
There’s Eun again. She’s scribbling like mad, dressed in bulky overalls with a
cap on her head. She’s taking notes like she’ll solve the problem on the board.
Debra Arroz and Amber Kohl, the wing commander and the brick lady. They arm
wrestle over one of their desks while Aliya cheers them on.
Charles watches as Amber turns her arm to stone and pins the pilot down. The
whole class erupts. Sean gets out of his seat, “Okay, let’s have a rematch!
Who’s got five on Deb?”
“I do!”
Charles clears his throat, “Settle down, class.”
They all laugh. Of course they laugh. This isn’t his class. These are the
people he failed. The lives he lost.
He feels like he did the first time he tried to teach. He had promised himself
he wouldn’t use his powers to influence the class. They took one look at him
and lost it. In a panic he put a class of twenty teenagers to sleep and wiped
their minds of the first day. He feels like he did in that moment. Unprepared
and ready to do something drastic. Instead of leaving the class comatose he
raps on his desk with a ruler.
Sean turns around, waving a fistful of bills. “I know you’re good for it,
Professor. Who’re you betting on?”
Charles covers his eyes, “Not one of you is real. If you would please just
disappear.” He sobs not daring to look again, “I would be terribly grateful.”
“Oh for god’s sake.”
Odd, thinks Charles. That’s wasn’t his own thought but it was his own voice. He
opens his eyes to see the memories of his lost comrades gone. Replaced by much
younger versions of himself.
 
Charles returns to the hotel where he changes and quickly showers. He gets out
of the bathroom to check on Erik. The man lies face down on the bed, where
Charles left him.
Good, thinks Charles. He doesn’t want Erik to come to the Peace Palace
assembly. Charles and the Great Patriarch are being formally accused of war
crimes. The last time he was here, Charles was nervous despite the confidence
the Great Patriarch gave him. It took a round of drinks and Logan’s friendship
to get him through that ordeal. Logan’s cock may have helped as well, so
Charles doesn’t break with pattern. He got drunk and fucked someone, for luck.
 
Now he’s listens to the voices in his head. “Five-in-one,” they chant.
One tracks the minds of all the diplomats entering the Palace.  
One tracks the minds of the witnesses and detractors preparing to speak for the
prosecutors. The legal teams working for the Allied Forces of Europe and
America.
One tracks the citizens, innocent bystanders that just happen to have poor
timing. The people hell bent on being in the first row.
One tracks the mutant army being controlled by the Great Patriarch. Their
puppet leader is N’Dare near the front lines.
One is helping Charles to actively veil his thoughts, hiding the clones’
existence and propping Charles up all at the same time.
Charles is busy with the little things. Like sticking to his routine. And
according to his routine, this is the time of day he should spend being a good
parent.
 
Breakfasts with Lucas are more manageable now. They’re together in the hotel’s
restaurant and Lucas is behaving. Now that he doesn’t think twice about
disciplining his son. The boy is all he has left of Moira. He is determined not
to see him rot from the inside out. Turned into a spoiled, kept, princeling and
then into a madman. Erik has had some influence on him, claiming to be a long
lost uncle. One of the voices in his head sounds suspiciously like Emma. Like
the other voices, it actually sounds like his own voice. Same tone, same volume
in his head. It’s hard to distinguish one from the other, but he does so. But
this one, this one is Emma’s eldest, Celeste. And he does not like Lucas at
all. It comes out of Charles in funny ways.
“Don’t put your elbows on the table,” he snaps.
The boy sits up and pulls his arms in, glaring at his father, “We’re not
eating!”
“I don’t care,” says Charles. “Behave yourself or else.”
Lucas slumps in his seat, still defiant, “Else what? No dessert?” He smirks, “I
can do more than you can do! I don’t know why you keep trying to scare me.”
A server comes over with their matching cups of custard. Lucas doesn’t wait for
permission before digging in and Celeste has had enough of that. The boy slumps
over, his face on a syrupy plate still on the table.
“Let him sleep,” says Celeste, “Let him stay out of this mess. Leave him here.”
Charles gets up, snapping his fingers for attention. He wipes his mouth and
sighs, “Take my son back to his room and make sure he doesn’t leave this
building.” He gets up and walks away without confirming anything. He already
knows his orders will be followed to the letter.
Normally when people give the voices in their heads different names and
personalities it’s time to call a doctor and order a very special jacket. But
Charles has lived with other people in his head for his whole life, he reasons.
So having five sentient clones possess him at once is a little… well Phoebe put
it best at the beginning.
“You had a being called Apocalypse in your head and body. That was just nuts.”
It seems Emma was sticking to him to guard their personalities. Since most
telepaths die and move on to the Astral Plane instead of heaven, all five of
the clones he destroyed went there. Emma had tucked them away safely in
Charles’s mind. Since they are a part of Charles and share his voice and face
and memories, they went unnoticed. The odd thought and gesture leaking out but
never sounding any alarms. Until that day. When they rose up in protest.
Charles considers running upstairs to make sure Erik is still out. Sophie
gently reminds him that Erik is high as a kite and not coming down anytime
soon.
Charles goes along with the nudging. He follows his routine and because it’s
nearly nine o’clock he looks for Raven.
His sister has been manipulated and lied to by the living god for months. When
he first woke up to his mother and her strange acceptance, he thought everyone
he knew merely fell in line. What he found was found was Raven leading a quiet
resistance with Darwin and Alex. They worked with the former Morlock leader,
Callisto after she was rescued from Warren Worthington the II. Well, sort of.
The rescue party had arrived in time to clean up.
He finds Raven and Callisto outside the hotel. Raven is wearing the face of a
hotel bellhop and Callisto is dressed like a maid. He faces Callisto knowing
she’s wearing a ring made from the bone of Warren Senior’s tibia. She has other
little artifacts like that hidden on her person, including a knife and a pair
of leather shoes. People tend to leave the scary woman with the human skin
shoes alone, without knowing why. Charles is unsurprised to find Raven and
Yuriko and have named her godmother of any future babies.
Raven confirms that one of En Sabah Nur’s heirs is among the witnesses. He’s
blocking telepathy and neither Charles nor the Great Patriarch can see him.
He’ll be called on by the American lawyers last, to testify about the tributes.
The Great Patriarch is turning all the minds surrounding the Palace like soil
with a till. They’ll believe whatever he tells them by tomorrow. And he’ll have
the strongest of his descendants.
Charles and the five-in-one are planning to disrupt the family reunion.
He gives Raven and Callisto a brief nod. “Take him. I’ll meet with you
tomorrow. Send Alex to collect Hank.”
They both move to follow orders without saying a word.
 
An hour later, Charles is standing in the Peace Palace. The Great Patriarch
wears a pair of white linen pants and soft-looking cotton shirt. He walks
around barefoot, if he walks at all. He does have a tendency to hover, thinks
Charles with a smile as the man approaches.
En Sabah Nur gives him chaste kiss in greeting before taking Charles by the arm
and leading him up a beautiful marble staircase, “Let us have quiet word, my
Starlight. This is a big day for us.”
“Of course. We might have the honor of being named international war criminals.
Break out the champagne.”
The Great Patriarch laughs, as he take Charles up to a quiet alcove. They stand
together outside a stain-glassed window. The living god appreciates a small
statue before turning his attention back to Charles, “Are you well, Charles? I
feel you grown distant. Have I offended you?”
Charles would roll eyes, but he smiles instead. Still playing parts even after
gaining his ‘sovereignty’, as En Sabah Nur told him. “I’m just tired. And
worried. This could all backfire. I don’t want to lead a war…”
“Shh,” hushes the other man. He reaches out and pull Charles forward, combing
his fingers through Charles’s hair. “This world is a slow moving one. It grows
stagnant with all these proceedings and bureaucracy. We will ignite a change
together and bring in a new day to the whole planet. The world will be culled
of its weakness. You will stand with me, through this, won’t you my Shining
Starlight? You will give the world hope and peace when this is over.”
Charles rests his head in the man’s neck. Celeste helps ease his stomach,
enabling him to wrap his arms around the taller man’s and shoulders. “I
understand that. But I still can’t… I don’t want this to be how my son sees
me.” He hides his face and pretends he’s in confessional. “I don’t want Lucas
to think this is how things are done. We should give them a chance…”
“Enough, shh.” En Sabah Nur gives him a paternal pat on the back. “Why did you
leave behind the Black Horse in such a state? He could be here keeping your
mind off all this worry.”
Charles sniffles before turning his big eyes on the Great Patriarch, “Erik
hates the Hague.” He looks up at the ceiling, “Especially the The Knight’s Hall
since it’s made with wooden dowels. He says the building feels naked with so
little metal in it.”
The living god laughs again before pulling away from Charles, “Then he’s best
where he is. Shall we walk in the garden before the proceedings?”
Charles nods and follows the man through the marble corridors and the stately
buildings.
All the while, the hive mind is busy coordinating Charles’s sedition. Phoebe
lets him know that Raven and Callisto already have Frederick. The man is
surprisingly cooperative. Darwin and Alex are in Cairo collecting Margaret
Slade and Ozymandias. Wyvern and several of the Hellfire Club guardswomen are
escorting General Arlington and her family to a bunker.
The long walk takes them on a tour around The Hague. Charles smiles and points
at a deer in the Malieveld. He tugs on the Great Patriarch’s hand and the man
follows him. He knows the Great Patriarch is working his own powers,
orchestrating his puppets across Europe. Charles can’t save the men and women
that are about to die. He feels out as Shiro and Warren stalk the Peace Palace.
Charles prepares himself for the role he has to take in the culling. In a
moment, he’ll be tasked to murder one hundred and twenty-two diplomatic
officials. While the Great Patriarch forces the minds of the Europe to accept
him as their god.
The walk is over too quickly. Around noon, En Sabah Nur takes Charles’s hand in
a firm grip and teleports him back to the Peace Palace. They arrive in the
courtroom where the proceedings are about to start.
The building is closed to the public, though they mill outside waiting for
news.
There’s no one to witness the room full of men and women as they slump in their
seats, their eyes closed as they die peacefully. It was the least he could do,
thinks Charles.
En Sabah Nur places a big hand on his shoulder and squeezes, “I know how you
feel about needlessly taking life, Charles. But I promise you this was for the
greater good.”
Charles has to struggle not to lash out. Celeste and Sophie help him rein in
his emotions, but it causes him a nosebleed. He wipes his face quickly with the
back of his hand and begs off his duties, “I’m tired. I just to want to lie
down until the offensive starts.”
The Great Patriarch tilts Charles chin to inspect him before smiling. “I
understand.” In the blink of an eye they appear in richly decorated rooms,
unlike any in the hotel. It pains Charles to think of what just happened to the
royal family. The look must pass over his face because he’s given another kiss
and sent to bed. “Don’t worry about Queen Juliana. She understands now. You and
I are the true sovereigns of the world. Every palace is our own now. Sleep
well, Charles. I’ll collect you before we move out.”
He leaves Charles to finish his murder spree across The Hague.
 
Charles closes his eyes, finding it easier to slip into his protected space in
the Astral Plane.
There his classroom looks frenzied. Esme, was almost fifteen years old. The
clone never had the ability to walk. He seemed slow-witted and malformed to the
scientist but Emma knew better. In the Astral Plane he is hyper and brilliantly
unconventional. And disturbingly into Max Xorn, who he thinks is ‘really cute’…
Charles doesn’t want to examine the feelings his young clone has for Erik but
he felt the boy’s voyeuristic attention last night. Right now he’s at the desk,
a projection of Westchester county shows where he’s keeping an eye on the
survivors in the Peace Palace.
Mindee and Phoebe are eleven-year old twins. Apparently they were both deemed
viable subjects and, Daniel spared Mindee’s life. They had the privilege of
actually leaving the labs when they weren’t part of an active experiment. They
lived most of their lives secluded in a house just outside of Nova Roma. Mindee
has moved a piano into the classroom, where he plays it like a master. He’s
tasked with keeping the crowd calm outside the Peace Palace, keeping a few nosy
people from going inside. Phoebe sits down beside him and writes in a little
yellow notepad.
As twins, they’re even more connected than the others. They’re both devoid of
any freckles, and have perfectly straight noses. Charles imagines it must be
want if he would look like if he were perfect, like Emma Frost. Phoebe is a red
head and Mindee has black hair. They look up at the same time to smile at
Charles before going back to work.
Sophie is the strongest cuckoo. He’s appears to be twelve or thirteen but he
was only nine-years old when he died. Charles remembers actively not thinking
about the lives of the little bodies he set on fire when he escaped. He looks
at Sophie now and sees the child with crayon at the desk, drawing pictures with
the code Moira developed. Sophie is the most perfectly formed clone. He looks
nearly identical to Charles. His freckles can’t help being in the wrong place,
but three little marks are almost placed correctly on his nose. He proudly
shows Charles the picture. Charles grins, deciphering the news quickly.
“N’Dare has withdrawn her post?” This part of the plan required a great deal of
strength and Sophie has actually managed it. Charles is awfully impressed by
the ghost.
The boy blushes and starts another picture.
Like Esme, Celeste never walked while alive but here he’s constantly moving. He
and Sophie bore the brunt of Annaud’s experiments. He has short blonde hair and
an American accent.
Celeste goes to the window and dramatically fans himself. “Oh my stars and
heaven! What is that hairy man doing on my front lawn?”
The others laugh at him as he pretends to swoon. Charles only rolls his eyes,
preparing to leave them. “I take it he’s back and he’s shirtless?”
“Sugar,” he says sounding eerily like Emma, “That wild man of yours is
practically naked. Sneaking around the basement of the hotel. You better get
there quickly before Erik wakes up and feels all the metal sneaking trying to
shimmy up the air ducts.”
The class fades away. Everyone gets back to work and Charles climbs out of bed.
Logan will be wearing an inhibitor so there’s no way to warn him about Erik.
Charles checks in with Lucas and finds his son still sleeping. Erik has changed
positions in the bed, but he’s still unconscious. That leaves him safe to
contact another of his operatives.
Bohdan was among the children left in Greece when the mutants were taken. He’s
good at sneaking in dark and his healing ability has already proven invaluable.
Charles lets the boy know that Logan is headed for disaster and directs them
both to a safehouse. Charles hates it, but The Hague will be under attack
shortly. He dresses in his own blue armor, gifted to him by Apocalypse.
The spell that N’Dare was under is crashing. She’ll be free to think for
herself soon. She’ll take her daughter and retreat to Egypt. Warren will take
her place at the front lines. Charles may be the first suspect in freeing her,
but Celeste has helped him to cover his tracks. With the Fittest of the Clan
Akkaba escaping, it will look like Margaret and Ozymandias has orchestrated the
whole thing with another telepath. Aaron is in position to take one photo of
N’Dare placing one of Shaw’s old helmets on her head before she leaves.
“Charles!”
He turns pretending to be surprised, “What’s wrong? Why can’t I feel N’Dare?”
He asks the question first and the Great Patriarch bristles.
“That vermin!” He blasts the room with his powers, destroying the bed and the
windows. “They’ve stolen my Bow and Arrow!”
Charles looks at him innocently, “Clan Akkaba? They can’t steal a horsemen.
We’re not… they haven’t the power to do something like that.”
En Sabah Nur prowls the room like a caged tiger, stopping in front of Charles
with a growl. “They have my blood! That is all they need!”
Charles smiles at the living god, reaching up with his gloved hands before
kissing the man on his dark lips. “And you have me. That is all that you need.”
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     *snickers* Imagine Charles as a puppet through this whole series.
***** Forward March *****
                          Moscow,_Russia_January_1968
Charles wakes up to Erik rubbing a thumb across his forehead. It’s gentle at
first, then more insistent and annoying. Charles’s body aches all over and he
rather not wake up to deal with the man’s stupidity. He sighs anyway, “What are
you doing, you fucking tit?”
Erik doesn’t laugh like he normally would. He leans over Charles and inspects
his hairline. A frown on his own face deepening, “I never expected this. I
always knew I would end up an old man with white hair… but this?” He rubs
harder between Charles eyes as if he could smooth away the lines, “This is not
what I wanted for my little mouse. You’re getting old fast, Charles.”
Charles tries to turn his back on the man, but Erik shifts until he’s nearly on
top of Charles. A leg and arm pinning him down. Charles starts to close his
eyes to go back to sleep but a sudden pain at his scalp wakes him right up.
“Stop that!”
Erik plucks another hair from the edge of his hairline. “Grays and whites?
Maybe we should start coloring it?”
Charles elbows the man until he stops. He tries sitting up, “Whatever. You
vain, prick. I’m going back to inspect…”
“No,” says Erik. He places a hand in the center of Charles’s chest and pushes
the younger man back down. “You don’t need to go back out there right now.
They’re still coating the grounds with lye. The stink is god awful and it
rained last night.”
Charles grinds his teeth thinking of the crimes he committed for the Great
Patriarch. “I can handle myself, Erik.”
Erik gives him a sad smile before laying back, pulling Charles beside him. “I
know, little mouse. I know that. Just stay a couple of hours. You can come with
me to judge the survivors.”
Charles doesn’t know if its cowardice or weakness that lets him agree. He
closes his eyes and sleeps fitfully in their tent knowing that Moscow is in
ashes before them. Knowing he let so many people die.
 
In the morning Charles has to stray from his routine. There’s nowhere to run
that’s not covered in ash and smoke or blood. Moscow fought hard against the
army. Shiro has been named the new horseman. But the Great Patriarch called him
Pestilence, not Conquest. To celebrate his promotion, the boy burned down the
Kremlin. Erik seemed annoyed at the time and cursed, “Damn it! That was not
necessary, Shiro. That was a waste of fortifications.”
Before the Russian people, En Sabah Nur called himself Apocalypse. What little
media allowed at the scene were controlled by Apocalypse. They spun the story
to the world as ‘God saves mutant kind from its oppressors’ and there were no
pictures of the devastation.
Charles gets up with Erik now to inspect the known survivors and the little
camp where they’ve been sent. Erik will personally judge all the men, women and
children. He’ll decide who is worthy and will be sent back to Utopia for
training.
Charles’s armor is similar to Erik’s, but red and white. He doesn’t have a
helmet, but a large and frankly ridiculous sword. He rather not wear it at all.
Erik wears his theatrical mask, along with the armor. He looks like some kind
cartoon, Charles thinks. The man love his theatrics, though. He proudly marches
on and leads Charles to a gated entrance. The people are overwhelmingly
fearful. Charles has to ask Celeste for help to block out the sounds of so many
crying children.
Erik walks through, pretending to be unfazed. Charles can see the memories of
Krakow and Auschwitz. Edie and Jakob haunt Magneto as he takes up a clipboard
and assumes the role of judge. He clears his throat and looks up as the first
group is brought forward. “All humans are to be exterminated except for special
cases.” The people all cry out and a guard has to knock a woman trying run on
the head. “Useful mutations will be celebrated in the Gray City. Now is the
time to reveal yourself if you want to claim any privileges.”
The group calms down and a man comes forward. He looks at Charles and sneers
before clapping his hands together. The sound he makes is thunderous and a few
of the guards fall away from the pain in their ears. Charles can see the man
thinking of escape. If not for himself, then he imagines buying his family
time.
“Don’t,” whispers Charles in his mind. “This is not the time to fight. You’ll
only put them in more danger.”The man hears him over the noise and stops.
Charles steps forward and looks him in the eye. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Igor,” spits out the man. He looks back at the woman who was struck. “My wife
Lira and my brothers and sisters. I’m the only mutant among them. Will you
leave them alone if I come with you?”
Erik sighs looking at the group and back at Charles, “I don’t think his
mutation is useful at all. A bunch of noise…” he scoffs. “Personally I would
put you all to death.” Charles reads Erik’s heart and knows he’s lying. The
little family has struck a chord in him. “But I can tell the former Venerable
Host has other ideas.” He smiles at Charles like he’s only humoring the other
man. “And one should be thankful for War’s mercy. Don’t you think Igor?”
The man bows, sobbing in relief. “Thank you Max Xorn. Thank you. Bless you.
Host or Consort…” He stumbles trying to think of whatever Charles’s title is
now.
Charles waves a hand and the family is taken away to be processed before they
board a train to Prague.
Charles stays at Erik’s side for the rest of survivors. They find thirty one
mutants with useful mutations, a handful with benign gifts and a large number
of very angry baseline humans. Charles tries to save everyone but Erik has
eleven of the humans killed anyway.
When all the people are packed away in the train, Charles leaves Erik to deal
with the soldiers. He sees Shiro coming in, proud of all the damage he’s done.
His mind has been tinkered with by the Great Patriarch and he has no memory of
helping Charles into the Brick City.
Charles decides to go for a walk, hiding himself as he hopes to meet with one
of agents. He makes it all the way to a tree line before he’s tackled by large,
heavy body. He sighs while on the ground, actually thankful to still be in the
armor. “Is there a point to putting my face in the dirt, Logan?”
Logan sits up, but straddles his legs keeping him on the ground. “You stink of
that dirty bastard’s cologne and sweat. I oughta throw you in the river.”
“I command you to let me go, Wolverine. That’s a direct order.” He smiles
ruefully, “Everyone has to do as I say now. Even you.”
“Fuck that noise, princess…”
Charles chuckles and Logan slaps him on the back of the head before getting up
and letting the smaller man breath. “I understand that Frederick has turned
over his brother and some more of his family.”
“A few more creepers are crawling around the bunker, that’s for sure. Like a
bunch of damn vampires. And Yuriko finally got a lead on the Annaud’s
whereabouts. He’s lives under a mountain like a troll or an ogre or something.
It’s like I’m running Universal Pictures or something.” Charles stays on ground
and swats Logan’s hands as the man reaches out to his armor.
“Stop that. I still have work to do and places to be. There’s no time for
dallying in woods.”
“Well there would be, Little Red Riding Hood, if you weren’t all covered up in
that soup can.” He leaves Charles alone and pulls several papers out of his
pockets. “I got these from Alex. Raven told you about Shaw’s extra creepy lab
in Berlin?”
Charles nods, “Sophie was kept there. It had the highest concentration of
Apocalypse’s blood. Annaud and Daniel were experimenting with the technology
recovered from a tomb in Sudan.” He looks over the papers, they’re mostly
readouts recovered from the computer that was connected to Tessa. Charles knows
now why she wanted him to stay away.
“I don’t speak geek or anything but Darwin told me that computer shit says her
mind was being rewired specifically for the Great Oz to take over. He’s been
giving orders through her and others like her for years. One of Shaw’s
experiments was mutant gene splicing. Giving the abilities of one mutant to
another. Shaw himself wanted the powers of Apocalypse.”
Charles nods, thinking of Shaw’s introduction, “He got his hands on Tessa after
Count Nefaria. The Americans…”
Logan stands up and reaches out with a hand, “Stryker might have sold her cover
to Shaw, but that’s it. All that shit about an American project to stop Shaw
was just cover up for Annaud’s real interest. He started all of this shit and
placed himself in Shaw’s circle just open that jack in the box.”
Charles nods, “Phoebe says at much. Though Mindee thinks…”
“Cut that shit out, Charles.” Logan visibly shudders and for some reason it
amuses Charles to see him so uneasy. “I told you that five-in-one crap sounds…
just weird.” He pulls out a cigar to comfort himself.
Charles laughs, “Well everything is weird now, Logan. An ancient mutant has
proclaimed himself king of the world. And I’m his wife.” Charles laughs at
himself, “This could only happen to me. I should have listened to Sharon.
Stayed out the army and made investments and brought property. Gotten fat and
bald and married a string of blonde socialites. Anything really. Hell, I love
horses. I could have been a jockey.”
Logan whizzes a hoarse, chocking around his cigar. “I don’t doubt it, shorty.
Come here.” He grabs Charles with one arm and kisses him gently on the head.
“Don’t get into any trouble. I’ll see you again tomorrow night. That lion cub
revived the spy shot down in Prague. He says the New Pax is changing again. A
handful of the leaders have gotten their hands on new inhibitors that can block
the Great Oz.”
Charles pulls away and scrubs a hand through his hair, “That would be Erik. You
don’t want to know what I had to do to commission those.” He reaches out to
Logan’s head, feeling for the little button under his scalp. The day he
disappeared he went to a friend called Forge who claimed he could give Logan a
similar implant to help him block any future interference from Apocalypse.
Unfortunately that friend was counting on Logan’s healing ability and the
operation was painful and inexact.
Logan woke up in a lab with his head pulled apart and new bits of metal welded
to his skull. He had to cut a hole for the little on/off switch his friend so
thoughtfully installed. Apocalypse had taken over by then and the lab was
raided by Warren. Shiro burnt it to ground but Logan escaped and stayed low.
The man rakes a hand in his hair, “You’re right. I don’t want know anything
about that asshat. I do want to know if you’re okay… So, Chuck.” He looks
Charles in the eye, “Are you okay?”
Charles doesn’t have the heart to tell him to truth so he simply answers, “I’m
fine.
 
They part in the woods shortly after. Logan runs to interfere with the train
taking the survivors to Prague. Charles wanders around before heading back to
what’s left of the Kremlin. He wonders if Raven’s reported back to Apocalypse.
Charles helped her build a cover and like her shapeshifting, she fully assumes
the role of loyal servant. She’s still works as spokesperson for Utopia. While
operating as spy for the sedition. Charles worries for her every minute, but
she’s been good at covering her tracks.
In the ash and soot he finds Warren. Charles is surprised the man brought the
bundles in his arms outside in the cool air. He says as much. “Babies shouldn’t
be out in this weather, Archangel. You’ll get them sick.”
Warren rocks the twins, “I’ll keep them warm. I haven’t decided on what to name
her.” He walks towards Charles and lets him take the boy. “I don’t think my
father would have called her Warrenette.” He grins and Charles smiles back.
Magda died giving birth to them and shortly after they found out about Warren
Senior’s death.
Charles feels sorry for babies and their late mother. All they have in the
world is an older brother who may have meant well a long time ago, but he’s
been seduce by power and ego. He wonders what kind of future they will have if
Charles doesn’t topple Apocalypse’s reign. “Wanda starts with a ‘W’,” he says.
“And what’s his name? Warren the Forth?”
The Archangel shakes his head, grinning at the little boy in Charles’s arm.
“I’ll let the Great Patriarch decide on their names when he blesses them.” He
sighs and looks back at the camp they’ve made outside the city. “I left them
with your nanny and she said she could barely handle Lucas, let alone twin
infants. Where’s Raven when you need her.”
Charles huffs and they start walking back to the camp to get the babies out of
the air. “Raven is a terrible babysitter. But she and Yuriko are looking to
adopt,” he tosses at them. “If you want…”
“No. They’re my family. At least that’s what the metal bender says. I’ll take
care of them, Charles.” He walks a little faster and Charles has try to keep up
his shorter legs.
“Alright, forget I said anything. Just know that you have other options. They
have other options.” He recovers the little boy’s head. “You don’t have to do
this alone.”
Warren looks at Charles and the telepath can see thoughts of his childhood
swimming up to surface. Of feeling ignored until he manifested. Then feeling
like a freak. He barely felt anything when he heard the babies were his
father’s, but something in him broke free of the Great Patriarch’s control when
they were born. Charles plans to cultivate that little sprout of humanity.
He grins up at Warren hoping his charms still work on the man, “What about
angel names? Michael and Gabriel? Or Rachel and Uriel?”
Warren laughs, “Uriel? Who would name their child Uriel?” He stops and looks at
Charles thoughtfully, “What would your sister name them?”
Charles quickly answers, “George and Audrey.”
They laugh again, agreeing the twins would be named after actors, singers or
political reprobates.
 
A week later and all of Russia is under their control. The march forward to
China is already planned. In short time they will have all of Asia. Charles
hopes not to let it get that far. Yuriko’s contacts in Japan are already
preparing defenses.
Erik has started rebuilding parts of Moscow with metal from their tanks and
battlements. Apocalypse has moved stone and brick from the Kremlin.
Charles stands at the window of his new bedroom. He talked En Sabah Nur out of
calling it the Red Palace. And Lucas’s plan to call it Moira’s Castle fell
through. Though the boy is gaining some traction with renaming the ruins of
Moscow after his mother. Erik is giving this new building a modern
sophisticated foundation, but it mostly resembles a ziggurat. And Charles’s
room is at the very top, in the center of a stone plateau that is covered in
new soil. If N’Dare were here, it would look like the Hanging Gardens of
Babylon. Charles is thankful for the bleak expanse of construction. With her in
hands of the seditionists the rest of the world may have a fighting chance.
Erik is a surprising turncoat. He doesn’t pretend to be solely loyal to the
Apocalypse and this only amuses the powerful being. Besides Charles, he speaks
the most freely to their new god. Charles spent the last hour at dinner with
them, watching them volley insults across the table. En Sabah actually laughed,
clapped Erik on the shoulder and left with some color in his cheeks. Erik
looked at Charles’s confused face and explained, “I’ve always been charmingly
contrary.”
Now fresh from a bath, Charles turns to his new bed and thinks about sleeping
on the floor. He has every right to bar Erik from his room and actually get
some sleep. But sleep is in short supply with his conscience wracking his mind
guilt. He feels worse when he admits weakness and takes out what Erik calls
‘the party favors’. Hank is too happy to prescribe him a little something
extra, enabling a habit he once kicked under Erik’s imprisonment in Berlin. The
drugs make sex with Erik easier. Especially now that Charles has done the one
thing he promised he would never do. And Erik, the bastard, enjoys every minute
he’s held down and fucked into the mattress.
Charles keeps the bathrobe on and sits on the floor near the nightstand, the
little injection kit in his lap. It was easy to make this a part of his nightly
routine. It makes sure he spends at least a few hours without the voices of the
other five. But it leaves him vulnerable in his dreams to other wraiths.
 
“I see it now,” says Hugo. “You can’t stand to live without hurting yourself?
You’re some kind of masochist. It’s sad really.” The boy turns up his nose at
Charles. For some reason this hurts his feelings. They’re at the bottom of the
oubliette, but the well’s entrance isn’t covered up or too far away. Charles
can leave whenever he wants.
He sits on the floor trying to ignore Hugo as he says nasty things.
Occasionally spitting or clawing at Charles. Charles stays put, using what
strength he has while he’s high to keep the boy back. He lays his head back,
hoping time above passes quickly and that he can wake up to a good day.
 
“Chuck!”
At first, Charles is certain he’s just imagining things. Then a slap to the
face pulls him from his stupor. He fights to open his eyes and stare up at the
Wolverine.
Logan growls at him, unwrapping the tourniquet still around his arm and
throwing it out the window. “The fuck are you...! No. I don’t have time for
this shit, Charles. Move your ass!”
“Is he alright?”
Charles blinks to clear his vision. He can make out a couple blurry Logans and
strange, pink-haired man near his bathroom. Charles keeps sitting, unused to
having his nightly ritual stirred up. If Erik bothers coming by he at least
follows order, think Charles. Logan is snarling as gathers Charles up in his
arms. “Fuck your timing, Chuck. We’ve got things to do!”
Charles lets his head roll back on Logan’s shoulder, “I was going to bed,
James. Its bedtime.”
“Don’t call me that!” The man shifts his hold on Charles and takes him to the
stranger.
Charles realizes slowly that the man is Frederick Slade. He finds himself
grinning at one Apocalypses descendants, “That makes me your wicked
stepmother…” He laughs, because the joke makes all the sense in the world to
him.
The Five-in-One start stirring in the background. Celeste is just starting to
creep in and Phoebe bothers him with the thought, “In my old body, I never took
drugs to go sleep. A warm glass of milk helps.”
“Shut up, Phoebe,” says Charles with his face in Logan’s neck.
“Who is he talking to?” Asks Frederick.
Logan sighs and holds Charles, “Ignore him, we’ll get this straight after we
get the hell out of here. Come on, vamoose.”
Charles doesn’t know what Logan’s on about. There no escaping the Great
Patriarch. There’s no escaping Erik. And he would be hard pressed to outrun a
moose right now. Charles belatedly realizes he’s still very high. The man with
the pink hair grips Logan by the shoulder and in the blink of an eye they
change location.
Charles struggles to pay attention as Logan carries him through a dark
corridor. They stop in front a pair doors and enter a lab lit up with red
lighting. Charles laughs at the little man that comes out. Frederick and Logan
look concerned but Charles can’t help finding everything funny in the moment.
Dr. Annaud clears his throat, “I can see the subject has been greatly altered.
This is what happens when the unprofessional dapples in creating gods. It’s
sad, really.” He tuts and shakes his head as he comes closer. “Have we time for
a full diagnostic? I hear my little cuckoos are still with you, Charles?”
Charles stops laughing as the man comes closer and pokes him with a pencil,
“Sophie sends his regards.”
“Ah!” The man backs away, pulling a syringe from his pocket, “Such a good boy,
my Sophie. I thought of replacing you with him altogether at the end there… but
your paramour tried to have me killed. He quickly collects his sample and
pockets it while Logan still holds Charles. “Now, we must schedule proper
diagnostic for the virus to work in time.”
“Virus?” Charles vaguely recalls that Essex’s virus is their shining hope, but…
“You did not just infect me with that thing?”
Dr. Annuad laughs this time, “No, no, no, just a sample of your blood as it is
now to help your vaccine. You are going to deliver the payload after all. We
wouldn’t want you to die as well.”
Logan squeezes Charles in his arms. “Can you remember all this, Chuck?”
Charles gives the man a weak punch to the shoulder, “I’m fine. I’m just a
little under the weather.” He turns back to Annaud, Celeste helping to clear
his mind. He could walk fine on his own, but he’s missed having Logan near. He
sighs and relaxes as if the man were a piece of furniture. “I’m sorry we can’t
talk more, Dr. Annaud. But if Apocalypse thinks I’m missing, he’ll come look
for me. It’s best I get back. I’ll let Logan know when I have some free time.
But for now…” He looks around the lab, “Can you hand me one of those?”
Frederick sees him pointing to an inhibitor band. “This?”
Charles takes it, “Leave me in the woods outside the ziggurat. I’m going to
having act up storm for Apocalypse. Hell, I might even give China some time.”
Annaud laughs, “Conniving little fellow. Go on then, get back to work.”
Charles agrees with him, “You too, Doctor. And best of luck.”
Charles spends the rest of night crying in the arms of En Sabah Nur. He talks
the man into stalling the march into China a few days. He’s happy to report to
Logan he can be seen by the doctor before they take Mongolia. Charles worries
for everyone working against Apocalypse but he’s already accepted his own fate.
***** Five in One *****
                         Berlin,_Germany_February_1968
 
Esme is showing the others a graphic slideshow with a projector set up in the
classroom. The children all gasp. The twins cover each other’s eyes. Sophie
blushes and hides behind his coloring book. Celeste looks bored and leans back
in his chair, “Boo!”
Esme clears his throat, “Well, I just think you can use a break. Let me drive
the body for a while and I’ll keep Famine entertained…”
“Stop,” Charles covers his own eyes. “I’m not subjecting any of you to Erik’s
fucked up appetite. Just stop. Sit back down and focus on the Chinese retreat.”
He uses every ounce of authority he has to address Esme. The boy pouts as he
returns to his desk, the slideshow of filthy memories going with him. “Now
Sophie, how is the virus acting on the new cell cultures?”
Sophie flips his coloring book. He shows Charles a rudimentary drawing of a
chicken. “The first test shows the mutant x gene being manipulated by the Virus
T-Oa. It’s pulled apart and the virus replicates itself with the stolen RNA or
proteins.” He turns the page shows everyone a chicken that looks strangely
robotic, “The second and third strains of the virus reacts on other genes. T-Ob
rewrites genetic code, transforming organics into metal. T-Oc damages brain
cells, infecting the neural pathways and causing a thick plague of organic
metal to grow. So far the good doctor’s made two robot chickens.” He makes his
little coloring book dance across the desk. “Ba-caw!”
Celeste turns the lights back on, “Proximity alert, Captain.”
Charles stretches out with his powers, confirming someone has entered his
personal space. “It’s Warren. I have to go deal with this. But keep up with
Annaud. I don’t want that sneaky bastard turning me into a… a… whatever the
hell the chicken is now.”
“A robot!” Esme points at the book, “It’s definitely a robot chicken.”
Mindee rolls his eyes, “We won’t let you be a robot, Charles.”
Charles gets up from his desk, “Thank you, Mindee.” He smiles at the child.
“You’d be a cyborg.”
He leaves to the sound of his own voice laughing. The others are little shits
when they want to be.
 
Charles wakes up on a train. He has his own private car, complete with a little
bedroom and sitting area. He was resting in his bed, as much a man can be
traveling over two hundred miles per hour. Erik’s new train network is finished
expanding across Utopia. Now it takes less than two hours for Charles to cross
from the Gray City to Berlin. This particular train is Erik’s favorite. The
official Utopian State Councilman Train.
Erik was gloating over its designs in Moscow when Apocalypse simply vanished
before reappearing. He had clapped Erik on the shoulder and told him, “Fine
work, my child. It is a splendid way for the pedestrians to get around.” He
then vanished again and left Charles laughing at Erik. The man declined to go
with him back to Gray City. He had work to do, judging the survivors of their
latest attacks outside Astana, Kazakhstan.
All the better, thinks Charles now. He rather be on his own. He has an
appointment with the good doctor at the end of the week. Capturing the whole of
Russia and maintaining it is harder than it looks. There’s a healthy amount of
resistance still objecting to Apocalypse’s rule.
En Sabah Nur had Charles stay in the center of the country, spreading his
awareness to the limit as they tried to take the border countries as well. The
stretches are putting a visible strain. More than just grey hair and baggy
eyelids. Apocalypse has order Hank to rebuild, not one but five Cerebros.
Perhaps even more in the future.
Pushing into Mongolia, Kazakhstan, and China is nearly impossible. They’ve
seized the Russian government and key towns, but the people are still fighting.
Charles tries to give the resistance a chance whenever possible.
Warren joins him on the bed. His wings spread up over them both and Charles
looks up at them as the early morning light bounces around the room. He marvels
at the beauty of these monstrous metal wings and Warren’s control. Charles sits
up and smiles for him, “Are the twins comfortable? I wanted to show them all
around the station. I promised Lucas souvenirs if he behaved himself.”
Warren looks anywhere but at Charles, “They’re fine.   But Lucas isn’t here.
The Great Patriarch collected him while you were sleeping.” He swallows a lump,
“And he told me not to wake you until we got here. You looked like you could
use the rest.”
Charles seethes at the thought of Lucas being unsupervised, allowed to exercise
his powers in an open war field. “That’s fine,” he lies. “They should spend
more time together, really. Lucas adores him.” He gives Warren the kind of
smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and lays back down. “Tell me when the porters
have collected our things. I’ll get off in a little while.”
Warren takes that for dismissal and does as he was told.
Charles sobs after he’s left alone, thinking about his son in the clutches of
Apocalypse. He doesn’t have to imagine what Lucas will turn out like with that
kind of tutor. He sees it every day in Erik. It’s his worst nightmare, he
thinks. That his son will be driven mad or to obsession. If only he could act
sooner.
He feels a hand combing through his hair and looks up, a projection of Sophie
smiling down at him. The vision disappears and Charles wipes his face. He
steels himself to get up and go about his errands.
Apocalypse has asked him to speak on his behalf for the media. Charles is
supposed to control the minds of all the people in attendance and ease their
anxiety about the march into Asia. The Great Patriarch trusts Charles with
this. And Charles reasons, that’s why the man has stolen Lucas. To be sure he
can continue to trust Charles.
A porter comes and knocks on the door, then enters the room without asking. A
round-faced young man, already balding with big gray eyes and a red nose.
Charles lets out a chuckle as Raven changes in front of him. “Was that a real
person?”
She shrugs changing into a beautiful woman with big, fluffy afro and tiny
porter uniform. “Better? Let’s get out to the station. I’m thinking of
kidnapping you now for Logan.”
“I can’t. He’s taken Lucas. We can’t do anything suspicious while he has my
son.” Charles gets up and puts his shoes and jacket back on. “Besides, I might
have a way to stall him before he starts in Mongolia So many theaters and so
quickly. He’s bound to miss something as he delegates all these fronts to minor
puppets. Just make sure you see him later today. He wants to know what you’ve
been up to in America.”
She changes back to her blue-skinned self, “Oh the cover story I worked out is
perfect. Yuriko is taking Sharon back to the bunker, but if we really want move
things ahead we need to get Lucas out of Europe.”
Charles feels split between being hopeful and despairing. “I know that, but
he’s been named the heir of this damn tyrant. I can’t just take him away
without Apocalypse noticing. We have to be careful.” He cautions his sister,
“And whatever you tell him later better not raise any red flags. He’s already
sniffed out the seditionists. He sent Shiro into the Morlock territory to
search for members of the New Pax. Can’t you tell them to be more careful with
those damn flyers?”
She shrugs and opens the door, “We’ll have to talk later. For now, put on your
happy face, O Glorious Consort. Honorable Horseman of War, Venerable Former
Host, Celebrated Councilman, First of His Name, etcetera, etcetera…”
“Shut up, Raven.”
 
“Councilman Xavier?” A young reporter has caught on after Charles’s
introduction. They’re sticking to the simple title, and calling him by his
name. “How many have died in the attack on Russia…” The man stops and corrects
himself with a little nudging, “I mean how many have fallen in the defense of
mutant kind?”
“I’m glad you asked that question,” says Charles with a sad expression. “We’ve
lost many brothers and sisters in this campaign, but the exact numbers are hard
to come by. The actual figures will be disclosed shortly.”
“Charles!”
Charles turns his attention to Aaron and a new colleague up front. “Yes, Aaron?
And I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”
The woman with Aaron grins and taps her temples. The people in the room all
laugh and with a little more nudging all their notes are easily skewed to read
more favorable for the Great Patriarch. It makes Charles sick to his stomach
but he carries on with his task.
He reminds everyone he has a special appearance on The Tonight Show this week
and they all nod and smile.
Keeping his mind on this while augmented their memories is on Charles. That’s
how he reasons seeing a projection of Celeste amongst the crowd. He yawns
dramatically before picking his nose and wiping his hand on the back of Aaron’s
head. It’s a funny enough scene, and Charles smiles despite the situation.
At the end, a young girl reporting for a fashion magazine asks about his hair
and wardrobe.
Charles looks down at himself, he’s wearing a red silk coat over his suit with
a high collar. His hair has grown long and thick in the last couple of months.
The gray that scares Erik, just edging the corner of his hairline. He grins at
the girl, “My mother dressed me.”
He waves and leaves the people laughing, and they forget the more serious
questions they meant to ask.
 
Charles has been avoiding Berlin. He hates the city. He hates the obvious
damage from the Wakening, where parts of it still lies in ruins. He hates that
Erik’s tower still stands, tall and beautiful in the skyline.
He’s surprised to feel a tap on his shoulder. Erik stands behind him, dressed
in his mask and black suit. Charles sighs, wondering if the man just arrived
from the station. He must have followed after Charles left on the first train.
A retinue of guards and attendants wait for orders from Charles. Sophie
whispers in his ears to keep alert, something isn’t right about Erik.
“I thought it was gone before, you know. My home, my cars. I thought you burnt
it all down like in Prague and Krakow. I mean Eriks.” Charles imagines Erik’s
smile under the mask. The man gestures to the tower. “I’ve avoided going back,
but it’s nice to see it still stands.”
Charles shudders to think of the damage he caused, “It was only my first time.
I couldn’t be completely thorough.” He gives the man a tight smile. “I thought
you were staying at the front in Kazakhstan?”
Erik reaches for his shoulder, but aborts the movement as the retinue starts
packing the cars and ushering Charles to move. “I was…” He follows Charles to
his car and addresses the driver, “To the… what do we call it now?”
Charles looks away, “The Steel or something. There’s no one there. It’s been
milled for information about Shaw. It’ll be sold in few years. I understand
there’s a law firm looking to buy it.”
Erik points to the building and tells the driver to go on to it, “The Steel.
Hm. I like that better than Headquarters. It’s more artistic.” He takes off the
masks and Charles wonders at his tired face. “Would you come up with me to our
room, Charles? There’s something we have to talk about…”
“Erik, no.” Charles bites the inside jaw, “I’m never stepping foot in that
building again. Forget it.”
“Please, Charles.”
“It’s important,” whispers Esme. The boy sits between them and Charles can just
see him out the corner of his eye. “He doesn’t want the Great Patriarch to
know. Just hear him out.”Charles ignores the boy.
“Please. I need to see you there. Just one last time.” He reaches over the seat
and takes Charles by the hand.
Knowing Erik has done some brilliant work for him and the seditionists is the
only reason he considers agreeing. He gives the man a put-upon sigh and sits
through the car ride. When they’re just outside the building, he tells his
attendants to go on to his hotel. He’ll be along later.
Erik opens the gates, the doors, and lifts the elevators. There’s no power in
the building. It’s dark and quiet without the buzz of sycophants. Parts of it
has obviously been dismembered as they searched for hidden rooms and
technology.
Erik takes them up to the apartment and opens the door. Charles follows, his
hearting thumping against his chest as panic threatens to overtake him. He
stops just inside the doorway. “That’s far enough. Say whatever you have to and
I’m going.”
“I love you, Charles.”
Charles scoffs at him, expecting some variant of that but still not prepared
for it. “So. That means nothing to me, Erik. Not now, not then. It never will.
You’re obsessed with some warped idea of me. But you don’t love me, Erik. You
are still a monster.”
“But I’m your monster, Charles. You’re as much as my creator as my Father.
Everything I’ve done, I did to be closer to you… what I do now to protect
you...” He breaks eye contact, shame clearly written on his face. “What I’ve
done. What I always do.”
“You’re not making sense. Are you high or something?” Charles starts to back
out of the room but Erik falls to his knees and starts sobbing in earnest.
“Please. Just give me one day. Please, Charles.”
Charles figures the man has finally cracked, he tries to read his surface
thoughts and comes up empty. Erik doesn’t appear to be wearing anything that
can block him, but he knows the man is good at hiding his technology. He
settles for asking, “What do you want?”
Erik hurries out of his coat, “Come up to the garden with me.”
“No,” Charles takes a step back. “Just tell me what this is. Sex in a familiar
setting? I’m not drunk enough for this, Erik.” He starts to turn his back but
Erik manages to stand and cross the distance between them quickly. Before he
realizes it, Charles is on the floor of the apartment, the door locked behind
him.
Erik holds him down, opening his silk coat while kissing Charles’s neck.
“Please, Charles. God, just listen to me. Just give me this. Please.” His hands
shake as he tries to undress Charles, batting away the smaller man’s hands.
Charles shakes his head, “No!” He swings at Erik, “If I say no, it means
something. If I say no, you have to stop!” He pushes Erik away and tries to
nudge his mind but that doesn’t work. Erik sits back and raises his hands on
his own.
“I understand, little mouse. Please. Don’t fight me today. I need you.” He
extends one of his hands and Charles sees they’re bruised at the knuckles.
Charles finally takes in Erik whole appearance. His tired face, a bruise
blooming near one ear. “What happened to you?” Erik is being strange, even for
a madman. He’s been perfectly behaved up to this point. Submissive and
obedient. Charles wonders what could have sparked this desperation.
Erik breaks down crying. “I couldn’t do it again. I looked at her little face
and I couldn’t do it again.” He sits up and his hands are shaking as he comes
closer to Charles. They’re both on their knees but Erik is tall enough to still
loom. Charles stays put, frozen while Erik wraps one hand around his neck, and
covers his mouth with another.
“You’re in shock,” projects Celeste. “Stay awake, Charles.”
But it’s hard for Charles to concentrate on anything with Erik holding him like
this, in this place. Erik starts rambling. “All that red and pink. It was just
the same. I couldn’t do it again.” He shakes Charles, “You know what I did,
don’t you Charles? You know! That’s why you call me a monster!”
Charles’s body won’t cooperate and he feels Celeste nudging forward, trying to
take over. “Five in One,” the others chant.
Erik shakes him again. “It was Father’s fault. He told me exactly what to do
that night. I took the doll clothes and put them in her little red mouth. I put
my hand over her little face. And held on. Just like this,” he squeezes his
hand and cuts pinches Charles nose. “I held on, while she choked and screamed.
I held on… I did it. I killed Ruth then and I lied to Mama. But she knew didn’t
she?” He shakes Charles harder, “She knew. You saw and she saw it! Tell me!”
“Five in One,” Charles lets Celeste take the wheel long enough to escape Erik’s
grip. His body scrambles away, pushing Erik roughly. But Erik doesn’t fight, he
simply falls over.
Erik stays on the floor, hunched over and crying. Charles looks at him and the
bruises again, finally recovering from the shock. “What happened today, Erik?”
Charles backs away. He tries using the stolen powers to open the door. It
barely moves.
Erik must feel it because he sits up and laughs, the tears still in his eyes.
“You need to practice, mouse. You need to practice.” He curls a finger and the
door swings open.
Charles’s freedom is right there and he starts for it, glad to be free of this
horrible place.
Erik cries out on the floor, falling over as he clutches his middle. “Charles,
please. I need you. I won’t stop you, but I need you.”
Charles makes it to doorway and looks down at the man. “Fuck off, Erik.” A few
tears fall down his face, “You’re not my monster. And you’re not Shaw’s. You
didn’t have to… You could have fought harder for the things you love. You
didn’t even try!” Now he’s crying for the man on the floor. His heart torn for
the boy who probably thought he did what he had to do. “And I’m not going to
feel sorry for you now. Not in this place. So just fuck off!” He starts heading
for the elevator and hopes his powers will allow him to move the damn thing. He
halfway there when he hears a crash back in the apartment.
He rolls his eyes, intent on ignoring Erik’s tantrum, but the sound of raised
voices alarms him. He turns back and stands well away from the open door.
Inside, Erik is being held down by Shiro and Warren. He struggles in their
grasp but they pin him down to the floor. Shiro on Erik’s feet and Warren with
an arm around Erik’s neck.
Apocalypse walks around the room slowly before turning his attention to
Charles. “Are you all right, my shining Starlight? Did this feral dog hurt
you?”
Charles looks at where Erik is in Warren’s arms. He stutters as the Great
Patriarch pulls him close. What could he say that wouldn’t get him killed this
time?
“I let him near you and this is how he repays me.” Apocalypse moves to stand in
front of Charles and kneels down in front of Erik. “Who told you to make those
odious crowns? And free the prisoners? And kill my soldiers?!”
Erik laughs and hangs his head. Charles is terrified that everything is over
now. Erik has destroyed everything by getting caught. Why, he thinks. Why did
he trust the man to begin with? Erik keeps laughing as he sits up straight and
looks the Great Patriarch in the eye. And now Charles has just rejected Erik.
He’s preparing for the worst when Erik opens his mouth, “The Slades and a
disgustingly old man told me. They promised I could keep Charles after we
toppled you.” He grins.
Charles doesn’t know what to call the feeling in his chest, but he thinks its
relief.
Apocalypse growls, a nasty rattling noise as he stands up. “You are not worthy
of the respect I gifted you. Or your powers.” He stretches out his hand and
must takes whatever he’s given to Erik. Magneto’s eyes rolls back in his head.
He seizes before he slumps in Warren’s hold. “Take him to his precious
Ironclad. Let him stew in one his iron cells. I’ll deal with him later.”
Charles just stands there, terrified of what will happen next. He’s not ready
for the Great Patriarch’s embrace, his strong hands kneading Charles’s
shoulders and fingers combing through his hair.
“My shining one,” says En Sabah Nur with his face buried in Charles’s hair. He
kisses Charles on the head and neck before letting him go, “I’m so sorry you
were subjected to that. I promise it will never happen again. He will be
retrained, and this time there will be no room for aberration.” He gently claps
Charles on the back, “You look like you’ve been to death’s door. Come with me
and I’ll help you recover.”
Charles is too afraid to refuse. He holds on tight as they disappear and
reappear in a desert.
Charles looks around. His eyes sting as sand blows in the wind. His throat
already feels parch and the heat is so stifling he feels like he can’t breathe.
Apocalypse looks comfortable enough. He gestures for Charles to follow him and
it’s just like their little walks in the Astral Plane. The man waves a hand and
the ground opens up. It appears to be a hangar door. There are stairs and
Charles follows as En Sabah Nur leads down to into the cavernous pit. There a
giant ship, unlike anything Charles has seen before.
“Come inside with me, my Starlight. I promised to share such wonders with you.”
He holds out his hand Charles takes it.
 
***** The Eternals *****
                         Gray_City,_Utopia_April_1968
 
Charles stares at his own reflection like he’s looking at a stranger. He’d
grown used to getting old.
And now he’s not. And the Great Patriarch promises he will never age. His long
hair falls in fluffy waves around his face, his eyes no longer tired and saggy.
The distinguished spot of grey hair, changed back to a vibrant chestnut.
Raven will stare at him now, wondering if he’s been seduced by the gift. His
appearance had the world murmuring after he sat down with Johnny Carson. The
show was shot on a closed set, a small audience provided by the FBI as Johnny
played up being an entertainer while Secret Service agents watched Charles like
a hawk. It was the first time he’d been on American soil in such a long time,
and he was treated like a criminal. Charles had joked that despite his accent
he was still an American citizen. Johnny had corrected him by reading from an
official statement, “Actually sir, your rights and privileges as an American
were revoked by President Kennedy. Captain America supported the action. I’m
sorry to say, you’ll have to own up to having a bunch Castles across the pond.”
The laugh track crowd had given them a strange look before obeying the sign
that read, ‘laugh now’.
The only good thing from the interview came from Mr. Carson himself. He seemed
suspicious of Charles, but he treated Charles with respect. At the end of the
show, he looked Charles in the eye and expressed his regrets in not being able
to do more. He gave Charles an envelope and told him it was for the Raven’s
eyes only.
Finding a member of the sedition working the media lifted his spirits greatly.
His act with the Great Patriarch is full of warm smiles and the occasional
chaste kiss. It leaves him feeling constantly ill.
He finishes in the mirror, shaves, gets dressed. He walks out into his bedroom
and scowls at the bright red sheets some imbecile has dressed his oversized bed
in. He strips the bed before heading out, yelling at some poor housekeeper
before looking for his son.
He finds Lucas sitting in En Sabah Nur’s lap. The sight sets his nerves on
fire, his fingers twitch with the impulse to grab his child and flee the dining
room. Instead he smiles, “Good morning, my loves. How is the day finding you?”
He sits down and has a nice breakfast. They discuss the movement across Asia.
The Chinese campaign has just as much resistance as the Russian. But Kazakhstan
did fall, and new temples devoted to En Sabah Nur sprung up. Mongolia isn’t
talked about at the table. It was almost embarrassing. A team of women on
horseback defeated an army of mutants with bows and arrows during the first
wave. En Sabah Nur’s reaction was to deem them all ‘worthy’ and order Charles
to take their minds.
The women were mostly human, a small girl among them able to move earth with
her mind. Charles did as he was told, but left the impression of a countdown
clock in their minds. When the time is right, they will act for the sedition
and Charles is sure it will be a glorious thing to behold.
In the meanwhile, the telepath has to focus on getting his son free of both
Apocalypse and Hank.
Since Hank was allowed to rebuild the Cerebro here, he uses Lucas to upgrade
it. Charles has to allow the experiment but he refuses to participate himself.
En Sabah Nur indulges him and tells Charles he’ll learn to love his friend
again in time.
Perhaps, but that time is not now, he thinks. Lucas finishes his plate and
reaches up to wrap his arms around En Sabah Nur’s neck, “Papa, can I go play
with Uncle Hank?”
The living god is about to give his blessing, but Charles interrupts. “No,
remember we are going home to Westchester today? Your grand-ma-ma misses you.”
He smiles over a glass of orange juice and hopes Apocalypse doesn’t undermine
him. “And you were going to meet your other grandparents. Your mother’s father
and mother, remember?”
Lucas almost looks like the little boy he remembered. He smiles at his father
across the table, a few new freckles dotting his nose as his hair curls around
his face. “I remember! I can’t wait!” He climbs down and runs out the room,
probably to ‘pack’ a bag of things a five-year-old deems necessary for a long
plane ride. Like candy.
Charles sighs in relief and hopes it doesn’t give him away. Across the table,
En Sabah Nur considers him with a cold stare. “You would take my treasure away
for such a trifle?”
“He’s excited to have some part of his mother still around. And you didn’t keep
your promise to name Moscow…”
Apocalypse laughs, “Yes, I know, I know. He was so sullen about that. Perhaps
after we take the rest of the continent.”
Charles smiles at the man before getting up. He walks over and kisses the side
of Apocalypse’s head. “We’ve already gone farther than the Khans and Alexander
the Great. To be honest, I think I need a break from all the expanding.” He
lets the man pull him down to straddle his lap.
Apocalypse rubs a thumb across his chin and gives Charles plenty of time to
break away before leaning in to give him a deeper kiss. He hums in satisfaction
when Charles accepts. He pulls away with small bite to Charles’s bottom lip.
“As a child so different from the others around me, I once thought I would
never find love or acceptance. After five thousand years, I’ve had many eager
bedmates Charles, but no true equals. Not until you.”
Charles nods, knowing the man is being patient with him. “And I thank you for
all that you’ve given me. But,” he sighs dramatically sinking the other man’s
arms, “I’m just so damn tired.”
That wins a half-hearted slap on his thigh and En Sabah Nur helps upright then
holds onto his waist as he stares up into Charles’s eyes. “Take your rest, my
Starlight. There is still so much good work to do.” He grins and its terrifying
thing to witness. Charles only smiles back at him and leaves with arms crossed
over his chest. Hoping he doesn’t appear as shaken as he feels.
 
Charles has a small group of mutant soldiers and Ambrose follow him to his
private jet. Hank was supposed to pilot, but Charles has vetoed that. He asked
for Yuriko instead. She meets him in the Gray Palace hanger, accepts a hug from
Lucas and salutes Charles before they board.
He clears his throat, recognizing the signal to clear the staff still loyal to
the Great Patriarch. “Change of plans everyone. I don’t plan on doing any state
work while on vacation. Please return to your other duties.” He nervously
fumbles with his hands in his pockets, hoping everything goes as planned.
Ambrose makes a confused face and Celeste helps Charles give everyone a firm
nudge. They finally walk away, left with the order to stay out of the way and
tell the same story should they be questioned.
Charles claps Lucas on the back, “Come on then. Follow your aunt to the
cockpit. She wants to show you how to fly.”
Lucas lights up, “Yes! Can I take us all the way there! I can’t wait!” He runs
aboard the ship and Charles knows he didn’t feel the needle that just injected
him a tranquilizer.
By the time Charles and Yuriko board, Lucas is sleeping peacefully in Logan’s
arm. “The fuck have you been feeding this kid, Chuck? He weighs a goddamned
ton.”
Charles passes them both to join Yuriko at the flight controls, “Keep quiet
back there, Logan. Put him to bed on one of the couches.”
Logan sticks his head in the cockpit, “You know you have a like a whole bedroom
in this thing? I could leave him there…”
“No,” corrects Charles. “That’s the inflight entertainment.”
Yuriko looks over at both men as they grin at each other. “I wish I could
unhear that.”
The flight passes peaceably if sexually charged. Halfway into their journey
Charles abandons his seat as co-pilot. He checks on Lucas and gives him a
second dose, steers his dreams to peaceful thoughts about his mother. He radios
an operative still in the Gray Palace to be sure Apocalypse won’t simply appear
on the plane. “He returned to Mongolia after you left, sir. The new Russian
recruits have preached a camp there.”
“Excellent,” says Charles before signing off. He sits at the radio and watches
Logan as the man calmly puts out a cigar.
“I believe I was promised some kind of entertainment. I haven’t got any yet. I
want my money back.”
Charles can’t help grinning at the giant clown, “I’m sure we can come to some
arrangement, sir. If you’ll just follow me.” He gets up to lead Logan to the
bedroom and the man slaps his ass as he passes.
“Sorry. I don’t normally accost stewardesses. Hey…”   He gets up with a
peculiar twinkle in his eye, “You got one of those little uniforms around
here?”
Charles laughs out loud and Yuriko loudly clears a throat from the cockpit.
Charles hushes Logan and grabs the man by the hand. He’s surprised they make it
all the way to the bedroom. It’s small, but comfortable. They tumble on the bed
and Charles practices with his stolen powers, closing the door.
“Oh, I felt that one.” Logan sits up and helps Charles out of his shoes, “We
have to find a use for that later. But right now I really, really need you to
fuck me, Chuck.”
Charles shakes his head and pulls his legs away, “Right now I really, really
need your mouth on me. Now, down.” Charles says with command in his voice.
Logan is all too happy to comply.
They spend the next hour having frantic sex.   Charles turns to his side and
gives Logan the dirtiest look he can manage. The man laughs at his effort, but
holds up Charles’s leg as lines himself up. They’re already covered in cum and
sweat but Logan shows no signs of tiring. He slips into Charles’s stretched
wet, hole and starts thrusting. Slowly this time, as his broad hands touch
Charles everywhere. He grunts in Charles’s ear as he gets close. He doesn’t
bother reaching around to where Charles is soft after coming the last time.
Charles tilts his head and holds his hair back. Logan must think about the
consequences of leaving marks because he hesitates. His hips even stop jutting
forward.
Charles sighs, “Please. Please just help me remember this. Do it, please. Logan
do it for me?” He pants and closes his eyes trying to cement in his head the
plans he has for later. The marks he plans to flaunt. Logan finally complies,
slamming into Charles hard before biting him on the neck.
Charles cries out and Logan covers his mouth with his left hand while he holds
Charles in place with the other. “Quiet, Chuck. You get what you asked for.” He
pumps in and out of Charles, slowly hammering the smaller man until he feels
sparks. Charles is surprised to see himself hard again. Logan licks the mark
and clamps down again and Charles feels himself coming from the sensation. He
passes out that time, just as he registers the feeling of cum dripping out his
channel.
Charles wakes up alone to the mess in the bedroom. Well, he amends, he’s the
only thing still messy. The lube and bed and clothes have all been cleaned up.
He’s still a little sticky, but he’s been wiped down.
He hears voices outside the room and wonders if Yuriko has the plane on auto
pilot. He quickly dresses and goes to the bathroom to wash his face. He smiles
at his reflection and the large red and purple mark under his collar.
He opens the door of the bedroom with a self-satisfied smirk. Yuriko pretends
to gag when she sees him.
 
By the time they land in Westchester and the new secret hanger under Sharon’s
tennis court, Charles has had to dose Lucas a third time.
Logan gathers the boy up and leads Charles and Yuriko through the new winding
corridors under the mansion. They stop in front a buzzer, where Logan grins
back at Charles. “Raven tell you this was my idea?”
Charles draws a complete blank, “What? The new lighting down here? Is there a
door there now?”
Logan laughs pressing the button hard with his meaty thumb.
At once, a swirling vortex opens up in front of them. They step through and
Charles assumes they’re in new sedition laboratory under Roma Nova. Annaud
greets them as a little girl sitting at similar buzzer smiles up at them. “I
did it really fast this time!”
Logan walks past her and winks, “Fine work, Blink. Now get the hell out of
here.”
The girl giggles and runs off. Charles follows Logan Yuriko as they strap Lucas
down. “He won’t be harmed, will he Doctor? You’re just keeping him asleep.”
The good doctor lays his hand on Lucas’s head, “He will stay down while I have
access to him. His abilities are too numerous for him to have expert control in
any one of them yet. When this is all over, I’ll help him learn to control it.”
Charles nods weakly, agreeing despite how much he hates the man. “You will not
poke and prod at my child, Doctor. He’s a little boy, not your science
experiment.”
Annaud clicks his tongue, “Of course, of course. You however, are my science
experiment. The greatest experiment I’ve ever ran. Come along, Charles. You can
still grow so much, and we have such short time to work with. The living fossil
is going regret disrespecting my research after he sees this.” He laughs like a
mad scientist and even Logan looks uneasy. “But I digress. Please come with
me.”
Charles follows him to room a full of vats similar to the ones he saw in the
other labs. There’s a large opening in the floor where a few inches of red
liquid bubble. Celeste and Mindee help him to remember his time in this place
before. He sees a projection of Phoebe and Mindee leaning over the hole,
“They’re running out of blood. They’ll want to preserve Apocalypse when this is
all over, not destroy him. Can we let them get away with that Charles?” They
look up at Charles and he has to look away.
Annaud is moving around tables and computers, pulling out drawers and turning
things on. He stops what appears to be a centrifuge and removes two vials of
black liquid. “Did he heal you with his blood directly this time? It has quite
the effect. You don’t look a day over twenty.” Charles shakes his head and the
man grumbles, “Subject does not have to be so secretive. We are all on the same
side now.” He offers Charles a wide smile, his curly white hair falling into
his wrinkled face. Charles thinks Logan is right, suddenly. This place is the
lot of Universal Pictures and Victor Frankenstein is smiling at him. What could
possibly go wrong.
“Doc,” says Logan while crossing his arms, “I still think it would be better if
I delivered the package. It probably wouldn’t kill me anyway, even without a… a
whatever you called it.”
The good doctor scowls at the man, “No! A thousand times no! You are not
compatible. Charles has had years and years to build resistance. I’ve groomed
him for this singular purpose. He will deliver the virus on his own. If not the
contingency is already in place.” He holds out his wizened old hands, “Come
here, my child. Now is not the time to be timid. You’ve lived your whole life
afraid of your own potential. Now is the time to take hold of it and really
change the world.”
Charles stays put, “I’ve already seen the world change. And it is always for
the worst. No matter what I do from here on, it’ll never right things. The
things I’ve done…”
“Shhh,” soothes the good doctor. “Doubt. Ego. Persuasion. This is how the
living god works. But he is an obsolete model. Years behind in evolution now.
You are the future, Charles. Believe me, when I say you are my masterpiece.”
“How can you say… I saw his ship!” Charles looks frantically between him and
Logan. “Technology, from what… only god knows where. I saw the bodies of his
own descendants being harvested for his blood. The people I turned over to him.
I….” He looks down at his hands. “I let him give it to me. I let everything
happen.”
Logan slaps him on the shoulder and pulls Charles out of his morose thoughts,
“You did what you had to do, Chuck. None of the blame here lies with you. We’re
going to put an end to the madness once and for all. All right?”
Annaud walks up to Charles and holds out his hand. Something in Charles won’t
let him accept the handshake so the man laughs hands the vials over to Logan.
“I’ll see you again soon, Subject. Farewell.”
 
Charles has two more days of his vacation. He goes back to Westchester with the
little girl. Sharon greets him and he’s surprised to see her not only sober but
preparing a team with General Arlington. He’s happy to see the woman alive and
well. She tells him about N’Dare and Ororo and how they’ve started to assist
the Chinese. The seditionists are prepared to strike the moment they hear
Apocalypse has been neutralized. It’s the devout, the sycophantic, and the
misled they’re worried about. People like Shiro and Warren. The army Apocalypse
amassed numbers in the millions now. Common people fighting and dying for their
god. The land war in Asia has become a holy war. Charles sees no end to it
without striking Apocalypse now.
He spends the last moments of his vacation in a bathtub. He cried the first
night thinking of how Moira died. His mother didn’t comment on his choice to
stay in a guestroom. After he soaks for over an hour he gets up. He prepares
himself for his next move but not before frowning at his reflection in the
mirror. The hole in his head, the noise he heard before is gone. But the five-
in-one offer little comfort with their tiny ghost faces in his mirror. He
hurries up and leaves the bathroom before he can change his mind, and asks for
Blink.
The girl hurries to him and opens a portal. “This is right, right? Uncle
Frederick took me up there to scout very carefully.”
He looks at the long dark corridor and nods, “God work, Captain.”
The girl laughs but holds her power steady as he goes through.
Coming through the other side of his worst nightmare. He walks past the cell he
knows he was held in before. The one where his family was kept until they were
taken to Berlin. He stands directly across from the one he knows Erik to be in.
Charles extends his hand and the door opens.
Erik sits up, looking bruised and dirty but healthy. He smiles at Charles with
all his teeth, “Little Mouse! Look at how beautiful you are!”
“Shut up, Erik.”
Charles goes inside and closes the doors.
Erik tries to stand but Charles places a firm hand in the middle of his chest
and knocks the man down. “I need your promise Erik. Promise me you’ll help keep
my sister safe. Promise me you’ll protect my family.”
Erik grins up, “Are we making a deal? Are you here to seal it with a kiss? You
know how I feel about consummating contracts.”
“Shut up—”
“Shut up, Erik. I know.” He holds out his hands, “Come here and tell me what
you want, Charles. You know I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He gives
Charles a sad smile and waits.
The stupid man, thinks Charles. The stupid, stupid, man. He bats Erik’s hands
away straddles his lap instead. “I need you Erik,” he says bluntly. “The plan
is still moving forward. You promised to help me. I can get you out of here if
you promise to keep my family safe.”
Erik raises his hands to Charles neck and the smaller starts shaking. He eyes
the fading marks gently rubs his thumbs over the bruises. “Did you already
extract the promise from that hairy little dog of yours?”
“Yes,” admits Charles. “But I need him at my side. You on the other hand, I
need you to protect Raven. Make sure she doesn’t get in over her head.”
Erik gives him a solemn nod, “I needed you, little mouse. But you wouldn’t
listen. I didn’t betray you, you know. Though, you’re always so quick to knife
me. Or shoot me.” He laughs as folds over to kiss Charles just under the chin,
“The fucking can opener!”
Charles pulls away. “Promise me, Erik. And take this.” He leaves one the vials.
“If I fail, you have to pick up where I left off. Annaud has enough material
from studying both of us over the years. He made an immunity for you as well.
If I… If I die you have to pick this up and carry on for me.”
Erik sobs holds Charles tighter. “If you die, I won’t need it. I’ll tear
everyone apart. Including your false god.”
That’s conviction, at the very least. Erik is nothing if not committed. Charles
leans back and stretches his abilities, the ones he’s always kept down, and
thought until recently weren’t even his own. He unlocks Erik’s gift and the man
sighs as he reconnects with his powers.
“Thank you, Charles.”
Charles doesn’t answer him. He gets up and walks to the door, where hopefully
the portals are still waiting. “My mother has taken up Buddhism. A new fad
amongst the enlightened women of New York. She thinks nothing in this world
matters now. She’s more worried about reincarnation.”
Erik smirks, “Mama didn’t believe in things like that.” He looks at Charles
with unshed tears in his eyes, “Until our next life, Charles.”
Charles gives him a curt nod and walks away.
That went better than expected, he thinks.
And no one had to count backwards from a thousand.
 
***** Shining Starlight *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                         Gray_City,_Utopia_April_1968
 
Charles sits by the pool in Gray City, waiting for Great Patriarch to return.
He already sent a message along saying he was home. He waits in a lounge chair
in the warm sunlight as if he were still on vacation. His shorts are a little
too short and his sunglasses are a little too big. He sighs and waits while
sipping drinks. Ambrose comes out to scream at him for a moment but Charles
sends the coordinator away. Then Shiro appears and asks after Lucas. He lies
and tells the boy that Lucas elected to spend time with his grandparents. Hank
has the gall to come out and ask him to help recalibrate Cerebro. Charles gives
him a middle-fingered salute and continues working on his sun burn. He’s not
deluded enough to think he’ll tan out here.
After half an hour of pretending to be relaxed, the Great Patriarch finally
finds him.
He hovers over Charles, his eyes going directly to the marks on his neck. “I
see your time off was well spent.”
Charles attempts to shrug, but he’s shaking just looking up at the taller man.
The shadow falling over him leaves him cold. “We’re at the turn of a new
decade, my dear. I hear they’re calling open relationships ‘Free love’ or
something.” His hands flip with odd gestures. He pretends to have little
control over them. “I do get behind the times working so much. Raven was going
to take me to this show with those puppets in that funny coffee commercial. You
know the one.” He’s certain the man does not as he scratches his neck and
twitches in his seat. “And then we could meet that Jim Henson fellow backstage
or something... It’s all very groovy.” He smiles up while extending a hand.
Hopefully he plays off not making any sense. He’s flaunted taking drugs in
front of the Great Patriarch before. He needs to force the point this time.
The man sighs and takes Charles’s shaking hand, gives him a lingering kiss to
back of his knuckles. He pulls away slowly and walks to the side of the chair.
“I understand you left our child behind in enemy territory.”
Charles laughs, “That’s a new one! You sound just like Raven! Honestly, my
mother’s not that bad.” He sticks out his tongue and pushes his sunglasses up
higher on his nose. Wondering how many buttons he has to press to get some sort
of reaction. “At this point you should marry her instead. You’re so proud of
her work in the White House.” He tries to sound jealous. Raven’s fantastic
cover for staying stateside included taking Kennedy’s face and holding a press
event, calling the Great Patriarch an ally. It went over so well that
Apocalypse stopped keeping such a watchful eye on her.
The Great Patriarch sighs again, “You are a pair of remarkable specimens. But I
am yours, Charles. And you are mine. I’m not sure I can tolerate this… self-
abuse any longer. Do you not value yourself at all? I’ve given you the world…”
“You’ve given me bloody hands,” Charles takes off his sunglasses and stares up.
“And you’ve given me space. You gave me Erik, of all things. The monster under
my bed, hm? You gave me back my son. And I just want…” He sobs and looks away.
“I’m just a tool now. Your consort in name only, remember? I’m just an
extension of your power and will now.”
The man growls at Charles after hearing this. Apocalypse raises his hand and
Charles floats over his chair, his body bends until he’s staged in the air.
Kneeling on nothing while the man pulls him closer and takes his chin in his
one hand. “You are my Starlight. I told you what great meaning I have given
you. You are still so hopeful and full of brightness. I will take this world by
force, through you, my War. But you will rebuild it into a peace that last for
all ages. What must I do to prove your worth to me now?”
Charles hopes he’s blushing. He hopes he pulls it off after a lifetime of
having it occur without wanting it. He ducks his head but the sight of the
ground scares him a little. He looks up and sees the man considering him with a
soft expression on his normally severe face.
“I see. You still keep your mind from me, my Starlight, but I see this
clearly.” He pulls Charles into a kiss and Charles moans into it before pulling
away.
“Wait… are you? I mean are we real now? Not just in name?” He blinks a way a
few tears. Fine job, he thinks. Sometimes he wishes there was an award for men
who can will themselves to cry. He would win every one year. If the god has
seen in his head, he knows how Charles normally thinks and won’t be fooled by a
little crying. Charles has to fight not to cry. Pretend to look like he’s
holding back.
The god tilts his head, “Is that what you’ve thought all this time? That I did
not want you, my love?”
Charles nods meekly, “What was I supposed to think? You gave me to Warren. You
gave me to Erik. You were acting like my pimp or something. I’ve done your will
all this time and I’m still scared I’ll be tossed aside or replaced.” He almost
laughs, comparing this to the speech he fed Erik years ago. “How easy was it to
name a new horseman? How do I know I’m not disposable?”
Apocalypse finally lets Charles down, but his feet still hover off the ground.
He stands as tall as the other man so they can look each other in the eye.
Apocalypse takes his hand, “If you want say you are ready to be mine, and only
mine. Then just say it, my Starlight. I knew it would be hard for you to truly
move on after the death of your beloved wife. Even the wild man was a mere
distraction for you. I had no desire to be another distraction, Charles.”
Charles breathes out a sigh of relief and stretches his toes until the man
finally releases him. He looks up with a shy smile from his real height. “You
are more to me than a distraction. You’re not my God or savoir… I want to be
your equal.” He thinks of Erik and all those plans the man had made for future.
Of how he’s accepting that world but with a different partner.
Apocalypse gives him a broad smile, pleased to hear the revelation. He leans in
to kiss Charles again, but the younger man stops him a with a raised hand.
“I’ll meet you in our rooms. Tonight. After I see Hank about Cerebro.” He
smiles coyly, knowing he’s never stepped foot in the official bed chambers of
the living god. “Just, give me a few hours to get ready.”
The man steps away and gives Charles a deep bow like a proper gentleman. He
smiles as he disappears and Charles lets out a breath. “Oh good lord, what the
fuck am I doing?”
A projection of Celeste appears in the seat he just vacated. “Bring a lot of
lube,” the boy’s face wrinkles, “I don’t even remember the last time. But err
on the side caution.”
“Shut up, you!”
“Who are you talking to?” Asks Ambrose. She stands in full makeup looking at
Charles with a thick binder in one hand. “Have you finally cracked? Can you
hold off on the crazy until I get this fitting done?”
Charles scrubs a hand down his face, suddenly exhausted. He peeks at the
designer through his fingers before he gets an idea. “You have work to do.
Let’s go.” He marches over takes Ambrose by the hand.
“I know I have work! I’ve been yelling at you all morning! What are you talking
about?”
Charles doesn’t stop as he leads Ambrose back to his rooms, “My honeymoon,
Ambrose. I’m getting deflowered tonight.”
Ambrose snorts loudly, “Bit late for that, honey.”
 
 
While in the Astral Plane, the classroom setting fades away. Charles and the
others sit around a great table as they start the attack. First Mindee fades
away to deal with one of the theaters of war.
They all see General Phillips is in Italy, rallying a small group of humans as
they dress in armor and helmets recovered from one Erik’s armories in the
Rhineland. The General remains bareheaded, assured that he can remain protected
from Apocalypse’s frequent scans of Utopia. It’s a stretch but Charles keeps
him invisible while he’s so close to Apocalypse. N’Dare is on the radio with
one of his sergeants. A projection of Mindee tells the room to be quiet. The
sedition leaders are used to seeing the younger versions of Charles pop up with
news as they coordinate the attack. Charles watches as they answer the call.
Her voice comes in clearly, “Ororo has started the rain over the Sea. The
cyclone will be fully formed soon.”
“Fuck,” says General Phillips. “I’ve never heard of a hurricane in the
Mediterranean. Well done, little lady.”
A small voice on the line laughs, “It’s not a hurricane yet! Mama can I have
some more…”
N’Dare shushes her, “She’ll be ready in moment. The storm drains her. She’s
taking a snack break before we get back to work.” They hear the loud sounds of
the girl sipping through a straw.
“Excellent,” Phillips looks to Mindee, “That is still the creepiest shit, son.
I say that as man who has seen things.”
Mindee gives the General a salute before returning to the table.
 
The shared vision dissipates and they move on Phoebe and the Mongolian women
being ‘conditioned’ outside of Moscow. The layout of the fort they’re being
held in is left in their minds. Charles is confident they’ll know what to do
when the captors around them suddenly fall asleep in a few hours.
 
Charles can’t quite reach the American continent but Darwin is on the radio
with resistance soldiers working with Captain America. Charles smirks to
himself. He knew the man would learn to like him eventually. Captain America
agreed to help the sedition after learning the truth from Raven. He swore to
help and sent along a little doodle of a fluffy kitten in uniform going over
the trench. It was captioned, “Don’t stall for mice.” Raven said it was code
for something but Charles just thinks the man was teasing him.
A projection of Sophie appears on the table and Alex actually comes by and
swipes his good hand through the boy’s head, before rushing over to put on his
helmet. He grins and gives Darwin a thumbs up.   He’s collected more scars
since Apocalypse took Tessa’s body. The empty socket of his bad eye is dark and
a bright white scar lines his face.
Sophie looks to Darwin, “Is Steve ready for the push?”
Darwin is on the radio. His own body seems permanently metallic, the color
drained and hair gone. But he’s alive and Charles is thankful his friend got
out of the Gray City. Darwin raises a hand for them to quiet, “The admiralty
outside of Saudi Arabia confirms that Captain America has just arrived. He just
fell out of plane? Into the Red Sea?”
Charles leaves them to finish organizing Steve Rogers entry into the North
African theater. The Americans are dropping ships and soldiers as quietly as
possible in the Pacific. The Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese forces are
cooperating as they prepare to land.  
They contact Arlington to find she’s returned to the Armed Forces of Freed
Europe. She’s going against the Crown’s official statement of alliance and
rallying at the Belgium border. Bastogne holds almost two thousand soldiers
ready to cross into the Rhineland.
The General’s eyes glow red as a storm cloud moves over the open field where
her soldiers are gathering in trucks. Arlington looks at a projection of
Celeste and gestures for him to join her in the cab of her truck. They pass a
canal where Charles and his friends hid when they searched for Moira and Raven.
Celeste, sneers at the sight and spits out onto the road. Arlington doesn’t
bother addressing his odd behavior so he tells her up front, “Would all of this
have happened if you had just given him the resources to save his family the
first time?”
Arlington looks him in the eye, “I’ve made peace with my actions. And inaction.
The whole world has been manipulated into war by a liar. Sending more soldiers
at the beginning would have started the fight sooner.”
Celeste doesn’t comment. He vanishes and reappears at the table.
“They’re all ready. Now to put the Living God down, Charles.” He smirks, “Did
you get the lube?”
“Stop that,” says Sophie, “It’s not funny anymore.” He reaches over to squeeze
Charles’s hand. “Good luck. We are still with you. You are not alone.”
“Five in one,” they all chant.
 
 
Charles takes back his body and opens his eyes. He’s standing in front of a
mirror covered in silk. Again. He sighs and wonders what else Esme agreed to in
his absence.
Ambrose comes in from the bathroom baring makeup brushes. “Okay monkey, get
ready for the blush brush!” She gestures for him to come sit down and Charles
obeys. He sits through her grooming and closes his eyes as she combs his hair.
He’s sure he’ll look like a geisha again when it’s over.
Time passes as Ambrose wipes, brushes, dabs, and even sprays his face.
Charles has had enough of it after there’s a hard pull to his hair. “What the
bloody hell are you doing to me? Oh,” he’s surprised by his own reflection.
“Ta-dah. I can’t seem find anything to match your fairy-tale glow. And that
natural Snow White thing is working for you… I decided to leave it alone. But
this damn mop! I’m going to cut it all off!”
Charles ducks away and grabs his head, “Leave it, Ambrose. Please.” He stands
up straights and walks barefoot to the mirror, thinking of how Erik last left
him on the floor in a similar get up. He shakes the thought out of his head.
“This is fine. I’m not planning to stay dressed anyway. Thank you, Ambrose.”
He spends the rest of the evening telling servants to move his things into the
Great Patriarch’s room.
Charles puts away the robe and redresses in jeans and a t-shirt. He finds Hank
at the new Cerebro site and agrees to let the man use him for testing.
They spend the afternoon together as the machine is recalibrated for his power.
“Wow,” remarks Hank as he watches a screen, “You’ve grown exponentially
stronger in the last few months. Is this all you or has the Great Patriarch
blessed you, too?”
Charles raises an eyebrow, “This is just me, Hank. I’ve stopped being afraid of
my own power. It’s time to wield it.”
Hank nods along, oblivious to Charles’s real meaning. “Of course. I’m glad to
hear you say that. It’s been killing me… I still love you like a brother you
know…”
“Shut up, Hank.” Charles gives him a fake smile and slaps the man on the
shoulder, “Let’s pretend you gave me a heartfelt apology and that’s the end of
it. I have my son. I have my mother and sister. That’s all that I wanted.”
Hank toes off one of his shoes, “You wanted a normal life. Me too.” He peels of
one of his socks and shows Charles his completely human foot. “And now we’re
both blessed.” He gives Charles a wide, awkward smile.
Charles is surprised he doesn’t punch his friend in the teeth.
 
999…
The clock in Charles’s head starts counting down as he goes in the opulent
bedroom of the living god.
Time moved so quickly today, he thinks. He quiets the others in his head as
they move forward with their plans. The storm is growing stronger and about to
make landfall. The news is already reporting it as a freak occurrence. People
speculate about the sightings of the little weather goddess. Charles hopes what
he’s offering in the bedroom is enough to distract the Great Patriarch for a
few more hours.
A great marble slab like the one he was taken on the night he woke up occupies
most of the room. He tries to get comfortable in the center of it as he waits.
Time is dragging now and Charles is afraid his plans have already fallen apart.
It wasn’t enough to just bat his eyes this time, he thinks. En Sabah Nur isn’t
Erik. He isn’t driven by obsession. Charles is just a tool for him. And one
that’s easy to replace. Charles shudders to think of Lucas being crowned
Consort someday in Charles’s place. By a man he once called ‘Papa’.
His mind is starting to crack up at the edges when En Sabah Nur finally appears
in dramatic fashion. He’s wearing his full armor at first, but as he steps
towards Charles, parts of it float away from his person. The entire thing is
disassembled and vanishes as Charles stares on with wide eyes.
“Wow.”
The man laughs reaches over his head to untie his long, curly hair. The beading
and ornaments in the dark waves clink as they fall around his head. “I’m
comfortable in my skin, but I can be accommodating as well.”
He shapeshifts in front of Charles, taking Tessa’s shape. Charles’s eyes water
at the sight. “Anyone but that, please.”
Apocalypse shrugs and takes on Erik’s body.
Fuck, think Charles. It’s not fair that his body immediately responds to the
sight. Heat churning low in his gut as his heart races, “That’s not fair.”
The man laughs, Erik’s teeth appear sharper than usual. He climbs up on the bed
and pushes Charles down. “Aroused yet, my little… mouse is it?” He grins down
with his Cheshire grin. It looks odd on Erik’s face but the familiar planes of
his body are lean and hard. He lays across Charles and a hand fits down between
the younger man’s legs. Charles lets out a sigh as his legs part automatically.
It feels good, he thinks. So good at first but he has work to do. But then…
Fuck, he thinks. The man even smells like Erik. Strong fingers brush against
his inner thighs and Charles raises a hand to his own mouth, biting down on his
palm in anticipation. He almost forgets to mind the pockets of the robes.
Luckily, the god laughs and pulls away before doing anything satisfying. Oh
well, thinks Charles. His head clears and the need to seek release dissipates.
Charles frowns and snaps his legs shut, “Another please.”
En Sabah Nur shifts into Logan, then Warren before returning to himself. He
sits up and Charles imagines the shapeshifter has made himself larger after
that little display. He wouldn’t want to be outdone by Erik, not now. Charles
chokes on his own hysterical laughter and the man gives him a curious look. “Ah
but I’ve forgotten. My little Starlight has no real preference for men? You
were forced into a molding by that animal… but…”
Charles sobs, “Oh please don’t do that.”
“Ghosts are strange things,” says Moira’s voice from the god’s body. Charles
has to look away as his nerve to act starts to crumble. “Reminders of the pasts
that cannot really touch the future. But I can touch you like this, Charles. If
you’d prefer…”
Charles cries as the small familiar hand lands on his face. He grabs it and
kisses the fingertips before he pulls away. “I’m so sorry.”
Moira looks at him and it’s not her, he knows but the memory of her. The memory
of her sweet smell, her warm eyes, and soft skin. His resolve collapses as she
straddles him. “Charles,” she says petting his hair while he sobs in her chest,
“Don’t blame yourself, darling. You always did what you had to do.”
Charles stops crying long enough to hear the voices ringing his head. “Now!”
Charles sags in the god’s grip. “Just hold me like this? Please for a little
while.”
“Anything you want, Charles... what…” Moira lets go to look down at her thigh.
The injection from the virus works quickly. Her skin turns grey, her hands
harden.
Charles stays put as it happens.
He understands the virus is contagious and rapidly attacks cells that it
encounters with the mutant gene. He knows he should be safe after Annaud’s
testing but a part of him doesn’t want to be safe. He holds onto the illusion
of his wife. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
Apocalypse tries to struggle and change back but it’s too late.
Charles is left with the heavy metallic remains of the living god. He climbs
out from under En Sabah Nur and looks down at his own hand. The body on the bed
spasms as a black cloud tries to escape it from the mouth. Charles sobs out a
laugh, barely thinking about his next actions.
“We’re with you,” whispers Celeste. “You are not alone.”
He seals his mouth over the petrified god’s and holds on while his own body
starts to break down.
Charles closes his eyes and imagines he’s somewhere else.
 
Chapter End Notes
     I'm sorry for forcing this but I had to stop myself from changing the
     very end over and over again.
***** Super Nova *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm sorry for the long wait but the indecision monster was sitting on
     my head and he's a heavy fuck.
                         Gray_City,_Utopia_April_1968
Charles assumes the Astral Plane will be his new permanent residence. At least
until he fades away like Emma did. He sits at the round table with the others.
The space is dark and foreboding. Esme cries and holds the center of his head,
feeling the pain of his first death as Charles dies. The others fade quietly.
Going up in flames or silently gasping for air. Celeste lingers long enough to
smirk at Charles, “All is going according to plan, sugar. The countdown worked.
Everyone is being deployed.”
Charles tries to reach out with his powers before his brain shuts down for
good. “Is my son safe?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“DADDY! NO!”
Charles is shaken with fear just as Celeste fades away.
 
 
“Charles.”
Charles opens his eyes to see Moira. They’re spooned on their little raggedy
couch in Bastogne. He sobs at the sight of her, “I failed. I completely
failed.”
She kisses him once, “It’s okay Charles. You still have time.”
“Time for what? I’m dead! I know it!”
“He’s going to help you. Just wake up, darling. It’s going to be okay. But you
have to wake up. You have to have let him help this time. Save Lucas before
it’s too late.” She kisses him again, “I believe in you. Remember that,
Charles. You just have to try.”
 
 
“Chuck? Fuck!”
Charles feels the world again. He doesn’t know how much time has passed.   He’s
shocked to find he’s no longer disconnected from his body. His body feels rigid
and hard, but he’s alive. He can tell from the pain. He tries to open his eyes
and failing that, he tries to speak. “Lu…”
“Shit, it worked!”
Charles is moved around. His insides feel like stone, but slowly things are
getting soft again. After a moment of going in and out of consciousness,
Charles tries speaking again. “Lucas?”
“Chuck, don’t strain yourself. Shit.” Logan looks around at the crumbling
bedroom, “We have to move fast. Those pricks took Lucas up to Cerebro. Annaud
is turning on all the installations. We have get up there, but the kid’s
tearing the place down. And the damn Slades are running interference.”
Charles’s mouth feels like slabs of concrete and taste like blood. He stretches
his jaw and feels where soft tissue is tearing while it’s still connected to
organic metal. A stray thought makes him choke on a laugh, “Erik would love
this.” He finally opens his eyes but his vision is blurry.
“Ew… I mean, ah… you’re not looking your best here, Chuck. You’ve got big
cataracts over your eyes. And ah… How’s your head feel?”
Charles moans and tries to keep still as his body changes back. Whatever its
going through he’s thankful he’s nowhere a mirror. Logan lifts him and they
move quickly through the palace. There’s rumblings and heat and screaming.
Logan explains most of the Gray Palace is shaking apart. The war effort outside
is going well enough.
“The storm landed and the army under the protection of N’Dare moved into Italy.
Captain America is making his way to the Aegean in a helicopter and Darwin and
Alex are organizing the ground outside Gray City. There’s still so many
loyalists out there fighting for The Great Oz. I even had to knock out Ambrose
on the way here.” He stops and adjust Charles in his arms, “That was a scary
sight, Charles. But that little dork says you can change yourself back. That
you did it before….”
“Erik’s nano-bots…” Charles feels more loose and his vision is clearing. He’s
more aware now of how his power has turned in on itself. His brain is rapidly
evolving to eradicate the virus. A step up from merely turning off the machines
that manipulated his power. His range is wider. It’s the first time he’s been
able to feel almost the entire world without Cerebro. He reaches out to their
comrades and lets them know he’s still alive. He’ll survive the virus, he
thinks. But what about… “Lucas. They took En Sabah Nur’s body? They’ll make
Lucas the new host.”
“That’s what I thought,” they stopped moving after reaching Warren’s
antechamber outside of the Great Hall. It’s the only room not shaking apart.  
“Frederick and Ozymandias killed Margaret. Annaud and his shitty little
assistant snatched Lucas out of his sleep. I’m sorry. That got passed all of us
in the chaos.”
Charles feels the air around being displaced as they teleport. They reappear in
the shelter under Westchester.
Blink stands in the middle of the room. There, she opens and closes portals. A
cut on her head bleeding while the little girl directs people who jump in and
out of the room. Beside her stands Bohdan, glowing brightly as he continuously
heals her and others that come in the room. Blink notices Logan. “I don’t know
how long I can keep this up. My uncles are doing something to keep me out of
that tower.”
She tries to open a portal just above Cerebro’s dome but it collapses too
quickly to be of use.
Logan lays Charles down, “Can you help him, kid?”
Charles panics, “No one touch me! The virus is still in me. I’m contagious. By
all rights you should be dead, Logan.”
Logan smirks, “You know I’m a special snowflake, Chuck.” He leans down to kiss
Charles on the top of the head.”
“Charles!”
They all turn to where one of the portals is being held open. Fort Ironclad is
being overran by its prisoners, Erik is leading his men as they take out the
true believers.
Erik stands in front of a portal, hesitating, “Is that you? Good god, are you
alright?” A cloud of metal follows him, ripping and tearing through bodies as
he stares wide-eyed at them. He seems to make up his mind and starts for the
hole in space but Blink makes it’s too small for him to cross.
Instead she shouts out orders, “Take your people and move in to join
Arlington.” She closes the portal and looks back at Charles, “Raven said to
keep an eye on him. …My uncles,” She says biting her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
know they wanted to hurt your son. I swear I didn’t help…”
“It’s okay kid,” Logan gathers Charles in his arms.
Charles’s body starts feeling more like normal. He thinks of all the civilians
caught in the clash. “Can you send someone back to collect Ambrose? There are
so many others… Can we save them?”
Logan sighs and looks to Blink. The little girl nods, and opens a portal to an
open battle field. “There,” she points out at Darwin as he flies circles around
Warren. “He and Alex are trying to keep him occupied. I can sneak Yuriko back
into the palace too. But we have to really bring him down. He’s killed a lot of
people.”
Charles reaches out with his powers and finds Warren’s mind. Its bright with
rage and mourning. The belief that his god is dead. He doesn’t know what to do
and he’s lashing out at everyone, even his own people.
“Pietro and Wanda,” projects Charles. “They need their brother to survive this.
Stand down, Warren.”
They watch through the portal as Warren slowly raises his hands in surrender.
He sinks slowly to ground and lets Alex cuff him.
Blink winces, “Sorry I think I need a break.” She sits down and Bohdan
concentrates on her.
The corridors of the shelter under his family home are filled with people.
Sharon runs over to them, “Oh my baby! What have they done to you? You look
horrific! Are you okay?” She punches Logan on the arm, “I told you to leave
earlier! This is your fault!”
Logan ignores her as he sets Charles on a table. “Don’t touch him.”
She smacks him again before leaning over Charles, “I just talked to Raven.
She’s flying a bomber full of wounded people back here. We’re taking in the
injured from all fronts. Kennedy urges everyone Utopia to fight with us. You
were right, Baby. They can’t fight the whole world at the same time. I think we
can really do this. But Baby… Is he gone?”
Charles tries to smile, “I think so. But we need to keep him that way. I have
to go back. They have Lucas.”
“What!”
Charles is about to explain when Logan reappears, dragging Hank in by the
collar. “This little shit is gonna help us get up there. He said the failsafe
he used to knock out your powers before can be used on Lucas. We just have to
get up there, right?”
“No,” starts Hank. “I built a remote. Its connected to all the Cerebro
installations now. Just get me to any one of them.” He looks down at Charles,
“I’m so sorry Charles. It’s like I just woke up from the weirdest dream. I
don’t know how… all I can say is I’m sorry.”
Charles grits his teeth. “For what it’s worth, Hank I’ll always love you too,
you cowardly bastard. Now stop sniveling and help me.”
“Always,” he gives Charles a crooked smile, “I’m always ready to follow you to
do something reckless. Remember that girl in Amsterdam? The one who thought you
were prostitute and you just went along with it?”
“Charles!” Sharon gapes at her son and Charles tries to shrug it off.
Hank covers his own mouth, “Sorry.”
“Shut up, Hank.”
 
They regroup and strategize for almost another hour. “How long was I out?”
Charles asks after he spends several minutes with them in an improvised
infirmary.
Hank is careful handling a blood sample from Charles under a microscope, “It’s
all clear. You say a virus did this, not machines this time? I’ll need more
time to analyze it for something like that but his blood is clearing up. He’s
going back to normal. I’d need a sample of that virus to compare it to, just to
be sure.”
Charles feels like dead weight as Logan manhandles him, but he still can’t
control his own limbs. He spots a basic wheelchair and nods at it. Logan
follows his sight and sets him up.
“Okay, then let’s assume I’m not contagious. You’re alive and Logan’s alive. My
mother’s alive out there.”
“Oh god, we should have had you under quarantine!”
“Shut up, dickhead,” Logan strips off his belt and straps Charles to the chair.
“There, so you can stop flopping over, kid.”
Charles smiles up at him, “Thank you for that, but I really need to know how
long it’s been. What are they doing to Lucas at Cerebro?”
Hank pushes up his glasses and grabs some pen and paper, “They’ll need to
recalibrate the machine. You saw today that each installation is connected now.
I have different settings saved for you both. We spent four hours today setting
the entire array back to your powers. They may almost be done reconfiguring it
but… Oh my god. If they turn on all five of the installations, it might kill
Lucas. He’s strong but he’s nowhere near your psychic strength. Even with his
modifications.”
Logan grabs the man by collar, “What modifications!”
“Put him down,” says Charles. But he looks up at his old friend, “But do
clarify. What modifications.”
“I don’t know exactly. I was just following orders from the Great Patriarch. He
took Lucas after he died… he did die. I remember that.” He looks at his hands,
“He took him and brought him back and… I swear all I did was monitor him. But
he was different. He’s been different for a long time, Charles.”
Charles lets the information sink it, “En Sabah Nur’s blood. Just like me.
Annaud has wanted to use a man with my family’s blood for a long time. It’s
time we find out why.”
Blink comes forward, looking tired and bloody. She grins at them with gap-
toothed smile. “All better. Bohdan patched me up. You guys got someplace to
go?”
Hank scrubs a hand down his face and looks to Charles, “The Cherykaw
installation is isolated. There’s no fortifications or anything. It’s mainly a
bridge between Gray City and Moscow. Well… It might be guarded. Lightly.”
Charles sighs swallows a lump in his throat and weakly nods his head. “Have you
seen all the Cerebro extensions?”
Blink nods, “I’ve been everywhere, man. Raven insisted.” She opens a portal and
gestures for them to pass, “I’ll keep an eye on you guys in case things get too
hairy.
 
 
In the next moment Charles is wheeled towards the vortex and comes out on the
other side. Logan starts to move him toward the helmet platform but stops and
sniffs the air. He scowls before unsheathing his claws, “What the fuck is he
doing here?”
“Who?” Ask Charles. He’s only just started regaining use of his of limbs, and
even with the extension of his powers, he feels helpless. He still can’t turn
around to see where Logan’s going. “Who’s here? What’s going on? Hank?”
Hank is busy flipping switches and typing at consoles. Logan backs out the only
door at the top of the dome, “Stay here. I’ll take care of ‘em.”
Hank wheels Charles toward one of the monitors, “It’s probably Sabretooth and
Juggernaut. The Great Patriarch left them in the labs in the basement.
Juggernaut is…” He looks at Charles with uncertainly, “He was kept to fight you
specifically. He’s impervious to psychic manipulation now. Whitehall was
working on him for Shaw. We found him Bulgaria while you were sleeping…” He
swallows and looks away.   “I think Logan can handle them both. He’s immortal
right?”
They hear screaming in the floors below. The entire dome shakes. Charles sighs,
“Can you really disable Lucas from here?”
Hank nods, “I just need a few minutes…” He types frantically types at a
console. “They’re keeping me out of the system. But I’m sure I can get back in
and reroute the control of the entire array from here.”
Another crash and howling from below sets Charles off. He reaches out to Logan,
“Need a hand, Wolverine?”
“If you could stop my brother and his new friend from tossing me around like
rag doll,”his mind gets fuzzy and there’s more howling and slamming. “I’d
really appreciate it, Chuck.” He projection is weak before his mine goes dark.
Charles reaches out and easily takes Sabretooth, but the mysterious Juggernaut
is hard to pin down. He looks through Sabretooth’s eyes and sees a man in
strange armor tossing Logan around by the leg. “Stop him,”He pushes with all
the command he can muster.
The man lets go of Logan when Sabretooth barrels into him and Charles directs
his attention back to Hank.
The younger man is starting to look frustrated. “This is impossible. How could
they know so much about Cerebro anyway…”
“You can’t stop them? Just turn off all the installations.”
“I can’t!” Hank slams a hand down on the console, “I just can’t get in fast
enough.”
Charles closes his eyes and reaches out to Blink, “Can you give us a
distraction? Send Erik to the Gray Palace. Tell him I’m waiting for him in
Cerebro, but he has to crash the whole thing with his powers.”
“Can he do that,” says Blink while following orders. Charles sees through her
eyes while she summons Erik. Erik is fighting Shiro. He’s focused on
controlling two massive snake-like links of molten metal. They look to have
been liquefied by the boy’s power, but Shiro is losing the battle. Charles
tries to force Shiro to surrender, knowing a gentle nudge won’t work with this
horseman. The boy pauses long enough to raise his hands. Erik doesn’t hesitate
to wrap him in the metal and leave him encased in it on the ground. He spots
the portal from Blink, “Where’s Charles!”
A growl at the dome’s entrance pulls Charles away. He looks down in time to see
the severed head of Sabertooth.
“Charlie? Is that you?”
Charles is stunned as he recognizes the voice and is instantly filled with
shame and horror. “Cain?”
His step-brother comes up and stares at Charles and Hank. “Look at you.” He
laughs. “Still messing with people’s heads.”
Charles tries desperately to break though Cain’s armor and hammers at the
technology blocking him. He’s too busy to see Hank taking off his glasses at
the console. “I was blessed. I thought I was… I was blessed,” says the gangly
young man. He changes quickly into his monstrous form. He’s now twice as big as
his old Beast form. He growls and leaps at Cain, knocking him back down the
stairway.
All the lights in the dome shut off and Charles lets out a sigh of relief. He
keeps hammering at Cain, but he’s certain Erik has followed through at the
first Cerebro. A portal appears and Blink stands on the other side, “He went
through but Yuriko says they still can’t get inside that tower. We checked the
other installations. They’ve been cut from the array!”
“Fuck!” Charles stretches his mind and reaches for all the metal in the
wheelchair. “Send me to Erik, quickly. And save Hank, he’s fighting a monster.”
He wheels himself with his powers across her answering wormhole and goes
straight to Erik’s side.
They’re outside the palace. Erik holds out his hands, orchestrating with his
gift as he manipulates electromagnetic fields, sending a pulse that should
knock out power in the Cerebro. He frowns with concentration, “It’s not drawing
power from anything mechanical now. I think your son is doing this.”
“DADDY! NO!”
The boy is screaming in everyone ears. Erik stops to cover his head, “He’s
already connected to that damn thing. I can’t stop him here, but this…” He
reaches down to his pocket and shows Charles the second vial. “I know you love
him, but think of what Phaedar is doing. The whole world versus the life of one
child.” His voice is soft and he kneels down in front of Charles. “I can do
this for you, Charles.”
“No. I’ll stop Lucas. Go help Yuriko with the civilians in the Palace.”
Erik laughs and bops him on the nose. He looks at Charles like he’s still
seeing a pet, even after all these years. “Even bald, you are still cute as a
mouse. Or a mole. One of those little hairless moles…” He’s grinning like a
maniac and Charles knows there’s no time for the stupid man to be crazy.
“Do as I say, Erik.” He commands, but Erik’s mind is slippery and focused on
Charles’s condition.
Erik sighs, “I’m staying by your side, whether you like it or not, Charles.”
“That’s always been the problem, Erik.” He hopes he’s not crying now. Erik
already looks self-satisfied. As if offering to kill his son was a romantic
gesture. “Fine, but you don’t lay a finger on Lucas.”
Erik grins while he unstraps Charles and lifts him out of the chair. Charles is
in no position to stop his head from resting on Erik’s shoulder so he ignores
it. They lift up slowly and float towards the maelstrom of psychic energy
covering the Cerebro tower. His son’s multiple powers are out of control,
swirling debris, fire, and plasma. Erik tucks Charles close as they fly towards
the sphere, emitting an electromagnetic barrier against the onslaught.
They get close enough to hear cackling and Charles stretches his own powers.
“Lucas? Can you hear me, darling? I need you to calm down.”
“DADDY!” The storm gets worst, “Daddy is dead! They killed him! They killed
them both!”
“Lucas,” Charles tries to soothe his son, “Where are the men who took you? Are
they nearby? We have to stop them.”
“No! They killed them both! They killed mama! The humans! They did this! I will
wipe them from the world!”
“Oh fuck,” Charles looks at Erik with wide eyes, “I think he’s going to kill
all the humans!”
“Bravo!”
“Shut up, Erik!”
Erik bends back a section from the top of the dome. They go inside and find
Annaud and Herbert at the consoles. Annaud is laughing like a madman. Herbert
is cowering under one of the consoles with his hands over his head. He’s
speaking quickly into a microphone. Annaud looks up at Erik and Charles, “My
favorite Subjects. Little Red and Little Blue. Look at you now! You actually
survived! I hoped you would. You will see the glory of decades of my research
finally to fruition!” Lucas is crying up on the platform. The maelstrom outside
sounds even worst.
Fredrick and Hamilton Slade stand together. They’ve killed their own mother and
will probably have no problem with killing Charles and Erik. Frederick grins as
he teleports to stand behind them. Hamilton changes the shapes of his hands
into two blades. Charles is bored with them, having already gone against the
real thing. “I just killed your father, boys. I’m not going to waste any time
on you two.”
Hamilton bares his teeth and charges forward. Frederick disappears to try and
catch them both off guard.
Erik and Charles move in sync. Erik shuts off the telepathy blocking devices
the brothers have surgically implanted in their heads. Hamilton falls to floor
with his eyes turning white and Frederick simply doesn’t reappear, having lost
his power to teleport while being several hundred feet above the Palace.
For some reason Annaud finds this all funny. “Brilliant, my sons. Brilliant.
But you are too late to stop this.” He looks at Lucas, “This one is my pride
and joy. He has your ability to evolve his mind and with this little…” He stops
to laugh at their surroundings, “Microphone or speaker or amplifier. Whatever
you want to call it. He will tell the whole world to change too.”
Erik’s eyes go to Herbert, “He’s reciting a poem.” He tells Charles, “He’s
saying something about a red hen over and over again.”
“Stop him, Erik. He’s driving Lucas insane.”
Erik melts the metal in the headset Herbert wears down and the man falls over
in pain.
Annuad seems to find this funny as well. It’s too late to stop it. The
experiment is completed. You wasted you potential to change the world, my
child. Now it’s up to your son. Now he will… ahh!” He gasps as Erik lashes out
at him with a blade.
“The last time I killed you that little toady brought you back to life. Not
this time, Doctor.”
Charles focuses on trying to calm Lucas down.
“Darling, please. It’s me. Its daddy. You have to come down from there before
you hurt yourself. Lucas.”
The boy snaps at them, “You are no one! I’m stronger than you’ll ever be! I am
Legion! Do you hear me! I am a God! I am…” He blinks his eyes now that the
chanting from Herbert has stopped. “I want to go home. I want to go home!”
Erik walks Charles up to the platform and sits him down at Lucas’s feet.
Charles pushes memories of Moira and Lucas into his son’s mind. Fireworks and
bedtime stories. The way she smiled at her son. “You don’t have to hurt anyone,
Lucas. You can stop this right now. Come home with me, darling.”
The storm outside starts subside. Erik sighs and lifts the helmet off of
Lucas’s head, “That was close.”
Charles starts to smile when he feels the presence of another mind.
Ozymandias hides in the shadows, the corpse of Apocalypse is in the floor
below. “Erik,” whispers Charles as projects what he sees. “He’s trying to
reanimate Apocalypse. Can you stop him?”
Erik gives Charles a rueful smile before kissing him on the head. “I’ll be
right back.” He opens his palm and leaves the viral injection near Charles, “In
case they make it up here. In which case, this probably goodbye.” He smiles
with all his teeth and Charles lets him go. He refuses the let tears in his
fall and thinks of Lucas. “We’re going to get out of here now…”
Lucas opens his eyes and they are red. “My shining Starlight. Did you think it
would be so easy?”
Charles can hear Erik mind, noisy as he concentrates on murdering the man below
them. He takes a deep breath and leans forward, his hand skating up the edge of
Lucas’s leg with the injection. “No. I did not. I did what I had to do.”
Lucas’s eyes changes to a bright violet and he smiles brightly at his father,
“Me too, Daddy.”
***** Epilogue *****
                          New_York,_New_York_May_1968
Charles wakes up to an alarm and the voice of President Kennedy on the
television. He groans and puts his pillow back over his head.
“Daddy! I’m going to be late for school!”
Charles sighs before getting up and getting ready. A quick shower, some toast,
his briefcase and lessons plans. Lucas is thrumming with energy, running out
the front door to the car. Charles stops as he locks up their apartment. A
flyer for mutant rights is stuck on the door, Raven’s picture accusing the
reader of not being active enough. He rolls his eyes and starts down the steps
when he bumps into someone.
He's surprised when the someone turns out to be a tall and handsome man. “I’m
so sorry.” Says the man. He waves back at car where a young woman awkwardly
waves at Charles. “My sister has me taping these everywhere. She works at the
Jewish center. And they recently opened a new mutant program. Do you have any
mutants in your family, sir?”
Charles looks up at the man feeling warm and cold at the same time. “No. It’s
just my wife and son. We’re nothing special sir.”
The man smiles, “Neither am I. It’s such a rare thing…” He breaks off looking a
bit shy. “Well it was good to meet you…”
“Charles.”
“Charles.” He says thoughtfully. “I’m Max. Though my sister calls me Maggi.” He
gives Charles another wide smile and Lucas honks the horn in the car. They both
laugh at the boy’s impatience before Max turns back to Charles.
He extends his hand and for some reason, Charles refuses to take it.
***** The End... *****
            Notes_and_thank_you's,_so_many_it_needs_it_own_chapter.
First of all thank you everyone who kept up with the story or asked for more. 
Thanks especially to Butterynutjob, Kernezelda, messedup4good, JDWraith, Square
                                   Pancake,
 Your comments especially helped me shape the story (so its totally your fault
                               no one's dead :P)
   And thank you to Rhyme2Rhapsody, Francis, ,Hope, The_DK, castorspeach110
 and every one else who was kind enough to leave a comment or kudos on my poor
               demented story.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.
                                        
                             As for the ending...
Lucas is Legion and among his many canon powers is the ability to warp reality
                              and travel in time.
 So at the end there, Charles was ready to sacrifice his son but Lucas fought
                         off Apocalypse, and used his
                         abilities to change reality. 
  So yes, alternate universe.  Everyone lives, (sort of) in the new world and
                                Lucas has taken
   away the things that made his family unhappy and brought back his mother
                        because even though Charles and
Evil!Erik are great at having sex with other, its not really healthy for either
                                   of them. 
In this world Erik's sister lives, killing her was what pushed over to the dark
                     side in the first place so Lucas (Me)
                           had that removed as well.
                                        
   I hope this clears things up and thanks again for sticking with it ! ^_^
                                        
                                        
                                        
            I will never, ever, ever do this to myself again. Ever.
           Except to post it chronological order.  All 102 chapters. 
                      It seems I lied. 136 and growing. 
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