Kindred Spirits

Erik flew over the shattered glass and twisted pipes, screams echoing behind him and then stopping with a sickening ease. They had around a dozen guards around the base, and Erik took out half of them with a flick of his wrist. He was confident Raven and the others would handle the rest, and that Hank and Alex would look the other way this time, if it came to that. 

Erik caught the horror in their eyes when they arrived at the lab, surrounded by terrified mutants, dressed in matching white outfits and with listless gazes, numbers next to their cells. Now they would understand. Trask and his men made sure of it with every mutant whose life they stole, some with bullets, some with cages.

Erik wished it hadn't taken this much, hadn't taken losing Charles.

Except no, Charles was alive, had to be alive. Erik refused to accept anything else, their intel from only two days ago. Any plans of going to Washington were abandoned. Charles was more important. Erik could've saved him sooner, if Hank or Alex or Sean reached out to him. Admittedly difficult without Charles and Cerebro, but not impossible for men as resourceful as them. It still took three months.

Bolivar Trask was the kind of threat Erik should have been aware of, would have been aware if he and Charles stayed together. A genetics expert with government connections, who recently obtained his own department in the CIA: POINT. The cryptonym was a reference to the most common type of mutation. Erik suspected Charles would have appreciated it, if said group hadn't kidnapped him and several of his older students.

The agents came in the middle of the day, armed with tranquilizers and hand guns made of plastic, their eyes hard as they aimed them at mere children. Alex and Hank were away on a recruiting mission, but Sean wasn't so lucky. Most of the students and teachers made it to the bunkers before the guards got close, but a few of them ignored Charles' telepathic orders. They were all adults, some older than Charles, and they didn’t want to leave him to face the enemy alone. Charles was trying to protect one of them when one of the agents stabbed him in the neck, a helmet like Erik's keeping Charles out. Charles used the last of his awareness to beg Sean to save what students he could, and he carried two of them down to the basement, tranquilizers in their necks.

By the time he got back upstairs, Charles and the rest were gone.

Hank recounted their search efforts and the leads they followed, how they even tried to contact Moira, but Charles had made her untraceable. The brotherhood was no easier to find, a fluke of Raven and Hank trying to recruit the same mutant. They never found him, and Erik wondered if he was in one of these cells with Charles.

Charles, who spent 90 days in this hell, locked away in a tiny room, likely drugged to the gills and denied food and sleep. He was too dangerous otherwise, given his powers. They would want to study him, but they needed to keep him broken to do it, not able to fight back. He wondered what it would take, if drugs would be enough, or if they gave a lobotomy -

Erik balled his hands into fists, and their medical equipment exploded into tiny pieces, shrapnel and broken glass shattering the floor. Erik caught a gasp and glanced back at one of the scientists leaning against the wall, pressing a hand against his chest, blood splattering down his white lab coat. Another one down. Erik turned and floated over to the man, wanting to take an agonizingly slow pace, to let his fear and pain build until they reached a tipping point. But Erik didn't have time for that, not when Charles was at risk.

"Where is Charles Xavier?" Erik hissed as he came to a stop in front of the man, lifting him from via the iron in his blood and the bullet in his side. The man swallowed made a strangled sound, his mouth trembling and eyes pleading for mercy Erik would never give. He twisted his hand, and the bullet dug in a little deeper.

The guard gasped in pain, eyes widening and some of the life draining out of them. His voice came out hoarse when he spoke, hands clenching around nothing but air. "The last hallway on this floor, glass room. He needed --"

Erik pushed the bullet through him, the man collapsing to the ground with one last gasp. Blood pooled around him, spreading out toward his lab equipment. Erik shrugged and turned on his heel, making his way down the halls, coming to a hallway with only one door at the other end. Experiment 87. Erik ripped the door off of the hinges, flinging the metal down the hallway. He didn't need to be careful, they already rescued what mutants were still alive. Charles proved to be the hardest to find.

A familiar warmth brushed his mind, buried underneath despair and regret, but undeniably Charles. Erik floated across the room to stand next to Charles, flinching at the sight of him. He was thinner, the healthy glow from before replaced with a striking paleness. He hung from the wall, metal handcuffs around his wrist, a chain attached to keep him from getting too far away. Charles' hair was shaved off and most of his face was hidden behind a scraggly beard. Charles gazed up at him, the brightness gone from his eyes, but with more life than the others they saved. He held onto that. Charles stared at him with those red-rimmed eyes, voice rough like sandpaper. "Erik?"

"I tried to warn you, Charles." Erik whispered as he knelt down, so they were eye to eye, flicking his hand so the cuffs opened slowly, Charles arms falling limp at his side. Erik brushed a hand across his cheek, thumb resting in the circles under his eye. Charles glanced back at him blankly for a second, and then robotically down to his legs. Erik swallowed and leaned over and pulled Charles into his arms, one hand around his legs and one across his back. He lifted him up with far too much ease, and Erik held Charles close to him. "Are you ready to listen?"

"They'll all be safe. The younger ones are leaving with Hank and Sean." Charles murmured softly, each word pained, like he was choking on glass every time he spoke. He flicked his gaze away from Erik as he carried him out of his glass prison, Charles' mind getting stronger the further they went, spreading through Erik's like he was holding on for dear life. We can give your men one of the wings for now. We can expand later if we need to.

"Of course." Erik agreed as he tugged Charles closer than before, his heart twisting in his chest at his words, hope blooming where there should be none. He dreamed of returning to the mansion, of bringing his men there, sharing a home and a mission with Charles again. But he buried those thoughts more with each passing month, every night he didn't feel Charles' thoughts brushing against his. But now everything was different. "Does that mean you want us to stay?"

Yes, if you don't mind. Charles tugged on his arm a bit, and Erik took some comfort in the strength of his grip. It meant the chains were loose and allowed some arm movement, enough that Charles kept his upper body strength to some extent. He likely wouldn't need too much physical therapy, when they got back, and -- They wanted me to be able to move myself during the experiments. Erik hissed deep in the back of his throat, and a few of the metal fixtures of the words snapped in half.

"It's what I always wanted." Erik swore as he brushed his thumb along his scalp, his gaze almost unbearably tender when Charles let out a pained little sigh. Charles might be strong enough to move, but he was clearly hurt, eyes not focusing and expression empty, his body eerily limp in his arms. Charles tried to meet his gaze and gave up, expression growing blanker the further away they got from his cell. "I wish it didn't come to this."

It couldn't be helped. Charles gave him a wan smile, crooked and his gaze still empty, none of the easy confidence of before, no light in his eyes. Erik clung to the intelligence in his gaze, in the tendrils of mind that skimmed across Erik's own, muddled and loud, but distinctly Charles. He hadn't lost himself, they didn't break him. Not yet, and if it were up to Erik, not ever. I can send the rest of them away, the guards. They won't remember anything.

Erik pressed his mouth into a thin line, gaze flashing with annoyance and relief at the same time. Charles' words revealed he was at least somewhat coherent, but they were painfully naive. Besides, drugged as he was, Charles couldn't be trusted to erase their memories and keep it clean, to not go too far or leave behind remnants of this place. Letting Azazel drop them off the roof was simpler. Erik glanced down at Charles, brushing his hand over his cheek again. "That isn't enough."

All right. I'm very tired, Erik. Charles whispered into his mind, the words lacking emotion, each one a capitulation. Erik stiffened at the sensation, and pushed his concerns aside. Of course Charles was muted, he'd been turned into a lab rat, this time against his will, kept in a silence alien to him. Charles' mind pulled back a little, some of the warmth rising to the surface, only to be buried under the same nothing from a second ago. Tomorrow we can plan your war.

"Our war now, Charles." Erik corrected him as he brushed his hand through his hair, stilling as they came to the front door of the lab. Erik wondered if he should destroy the entire building down, bring the metal up from the foundations until there was nothing left. Charles glanced up at him, gaze the slightest bit less hazy, though his pupils were still dilated, and he was practically weightless in his arms. Erik leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, putting all of his affection and regret for not coming sooner into it, his vow not to keep Charles and their mutant brothers and sisters safe. Charles didn't react. "We'll make the future we both want."

That you want. The future I wanted is dead. Charles said softly, voice as empty as his gaze as they crossed through the entryway. Erik bristled at the sound, at the lack. Emptiness didn't suit Charles, who was always so vibrant, his every emotion clear in his eyes. Erik shook his head, pushing down the bile rising in his throat. Charles would regain his vitality, come back to himself little by little once Erik took him home. He floated them out of the building, holding Charles a bit tighter as they reached the edge of the plane Hank somehow acquired.

Raven hurried toward them, yellow eyes shining with tears as she got to his side, gaze locked on Charles. He glanced over at her and grimaced, though Erik suspected he was attempting a smile. She brushed a hand across his cheek and stood close to him as Erik walked up the steps, grip on Charles only growing tighter when Hank appeared in the distance. Hank narrowed his gaze and growled, but made no move to take Charles away from him, gripping the controls of the cockpit tighter instead. Erik slid into one of the seats in the back, carefully setting Charles down, so he was half on the seat and half on Erik. Charles lied against him, body limp, more rag doll than man.

"I am sorry, Charles." Erik whispered as he held him upright, and Charles nodded tiredly and closed his eyes, sleep overcoming him in a matter of seconds. Erik noted the way his mind roared to life as sleep overcame him, emotions crackling in the back of Erik's head, waves of sadness crashing into fiery red guilt and chartreuse fear, and buried beneath all of them, the soft glow of hope.

*****

Erik set his people up in the mansion afterwards, picking out rooms on the top floor, away from the students and their curious, fearful gazes, and with an extensive view of the grounds. Raven took her old bedroom down the hall from Charles' own, untouched from when they left, down to her wrinkled sheets and the nail polish she left open on her dresser. Erik slipped back into his own room as well, cold and sterile, barely any clothes in the closet and sheets almost painfully neat.

He never spent a night here, first sneaking out of Charles' room the first few nights, and then when it became clear everyone knew, not bothering to sneak out at all. Erik wondered when he'd be invited back into his bed, feel the warmth of Charles' breath against his cheek early in the morning, his eyelids still heavy with sleep.

Erik pushed those thoughts aside, still considering their next steps. Most of the Brotherhood would come and go, either due to their assignments or because of their own whims. Hell, Emma left before he rescued Charles, grinning brightly as she told him she didn't want to play second fiddle to his old flame. The others were more loyal to the cause, but he needed them in government buildings and on city streets. Erik could plan their missions from the school, and Cerebro would give them an advantage they never had before. They would be able to find their mutant brothers and sisters easily, pinpoint enemy headquarters with a tilt of Charles' head. Their cause would prosper here.

Well, once the school accepted the Brotherhood's presence here, or more specifically, Erik's. He caught the wary glances Hank sent his way, along with Alex's hurt frowns and Sean's tight smiles. The rest of the staff didn't know him, welcomed Erik with a wary kindness he accepted with ease. He might have saved Charles, but he still needed to earn their trust, and that took time. It had only been two weeks. In time, the Brotherhood and the Xavier Institute would become synonymous, Erik the sword and Charles the shield.

Besides, Charles invited him to stay, so he stayed. It didn't mean he was wanted. Not going by Hank's cool smile and short words as they installed the security system. Erik flicked his wrist and the wires attached along the gates according to Hank's measurements, metal sliding into the holes in the ground and slithering through the dirt. Erik grinned at Hank, easy and probably a bit too sharp, tilting his head to the right when Hank sneered at him. "He asked me to stay."

"Let's see if he still wants you to when the drugs and torture wear off." Hank snarled at him, eyes glowing an incandescent shade of gold. Erik rolled his shoulders a few times, gaze locked onto the walls and the sensation of metal underneath. Erik would stay until Charles told him to go, and then he would make Charles understand the world as it was. He wouldn't let him be hurt again.

"You agree with me." Erik said plainly, glancing over at Hank, who lifted up one of the gates like it weighed nothing, tossing it aside. Erik raised an eyebrow and glanced down the hallway, his gaze sweeping over the new sheets of glass in the windows, every plane made of polycarbonate panels.

And even before Erik came back, Hank somehow acquired a cargo plane big enough to transport the entire student body if needed. Hank might admire Charles' lofty ideals and easy compassion, but he still prepared for Erik's war. Maybe not with as much zeal as Erik would've preferred, but it was a start.

"Don't mistake wanting to protect our students for wanting anything to do with your cause, Erik." Hank snapped as he reached for one of the tools at his side, a hint of a snarl in the corners of his mouth. Erik smirked brightly at him, flicking his wrist so several of the wires spread through the hole he made and down the path Hank outlined for him around the school. Anyone who tried to breach their home on foot or by car was in for a nasty surprise, stunned the moment they touched the fence. They still hadn't found a solution for planes if Erik or Charles were out of commission or away from the mansion, but Erik suspected that would come with time.

"That is my mission." Erik promised as he held Hank's gaze, metal crackling beneath the ground before going eerily still. He glanced past the grounds and over to the window of their old bedroom, where Charles spent most of his time since they came back home. He slept nearly all the first week, whispering other people's dreams and clutching his sheets every time one of the younger students cried. His powers were more vibrant than before, his mind weaving through Erik's, his exhaustion and fear rising and ebbing with each passing day.

The last few days he'd been awake during Hank's medical tests, Erik hovering by the door for each physical therapy session. Charles maintained more stamina than either of them expected, at least physically. He was oddly still otherwise, his face empty except for the sharpness in his gaze, the tendrils of his mind cool and clinical when they brushed along the edges of his own.

Every so often something else would peak through, a metallic taste in Erik's coffee, a coldness to his skin that made him nauseous. Charles gave him a rueful smile the first few times, but then his expression shifted into something more composed, the shields between their minds more brittle than they had been before.

Hank caught his eye and gave him a half-smile, crooked and so genuine it made Erik suspicious. He picked up the gate with one hand, waving Erik off with his free one. "Go see how he is."

Erik simply nodded and turned on his heel, making his way across the grounds, ignoring the giggles and whispers from some of the students in the foyer. He caught the worried stares they sent toward Charles' door, the hopeful glances and the defeated sighs when Charles turned them away from his door. Erik floated up the stairs, flicking his wrist so their bedroom door flew open for him.

He didn't bother knocking, not when he could sense Charles' everywhere. He wasn't reading his mind so much as keeping tabs on him, a vague presence on the edge of his consciousness. Erik clung to the sensation, though they were empty of emotion now -- his touch cool where it had once been gentle and warm, almost clinical in the way it brushed through his thoughts. His expression was no better, Charles' gaze intelligent but devoid of emotion, the twist of his mouth lacking any of the wry charm of before.

Erik swallowed and came to a stop at the foot of his bed, his own mind pushing back against Charles' own. "How are you?"

"My control is a little rusty, but I haven't lost a step." Charles weaved through Erik's mind as he spoke, his tone certain. Erik stared at him flatly, because he didn't mean his powers. It was clear they were as strong as ever, Charles holding off everyone who came near the school with almost frightening precision. Charles used them with an ease and a willingness he hadn't before, but he didn't revel in the same way, didn't share the flavor of his tea and inside jokes, or soothe nightmares with the gentlest of touches. At least not to Erik, not anymore. "How are your men?"

"Safe for the most part. A few injuries, but most of them were minor." Erik promised him as he took a seat on the end of the bed, reaching a hand out toward Charles. Beneath the layers of emptiness and bleak indifference, Erik caught a spike of relief from him, concern bubbling up to the surface as Azazel's bruised tail and Angel's tired gaze flashed across both their minds. Charles' expression shifted in a way Erik didn't understand, blinking owlishly before pressing his mouth into a thin line, a veil of ice blanketing everything else. "How many of your people were taken?"

"Just five." Charles mused in a listless voice and stared off into the distance, his gaze locked onto the willow tree in the front lawn, the leaves just starting to change to vibrant shades of red and orange. Erik was hit by a wave of despair thick enough it choked him, guilt emanating from every corner of the room.

The emotions didn't reach his face though, his eyes purposefully blank and a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He flicked his gaze over to Erik, cynical and detached, desolate logic where they used to be unbridled optimism. Only five.

"Are they alive?" Erik asked in a tight voice, already knowing the answer from how Charles' shame spiked, but his expression didn't change in the least. Erik leaned over and took Charles' hand in his own, his thumb making circles against the smooth skin of his wrist. His palms were calloused now, the skin rough where it caught against Erik's, a strength well-earned and worthy of admiration. He suspected Charles didn't agree, given how he knocked Erik's hand away from his own, neatly folding them in his lap.

"I doubt it. Three of them I know for sure. I felt their agony." Charles' words were clinical, as though they were discussing one of his and Hank's experiment instead of murder. Erik grimaced at the idea, at the way Charles tilted his head, a spark of curiosity in his eyes as he met Erik's own. It was disconcerting, how calm and reserved Charles' words were, when Erik was nearly consumed by his grief. "I don't know what happened to the others."

"If they're alive we'll find them." Erik vowed in a harsh voice, swallowing down the urge to reach over and grab Charles by the shoulders, to shake off the walls surrounding him. It would be so easy to reach out and tangle their fingers together, to kiss his eyelids and draw out the pain underneath. Erik settled for resting a hand in the space between them, his fingers mere inches away from Charles' own. "And if not, we'll avenge them. I know you're hurting, but we need to focus -"

"I'm fine, Erik. Truly." Charles gave him a wan smile, a poor imitation of the eager ones , his eyes lacking any of the warmth or kindness from before. The surrounding emotions twitched, a spike of concern rising up through the grief, only to be buried under the same frigidness as everything else. Charles' smile faded into nothingness, his eyes bitter. It didn't suit him at all.

Erik swallowed a few times, reminding himself this wasn't permanent. Charles was grieving his students and his future, still suffering from the aftermath of his torture. And if he truly experienced his death three times, his student's death in the same breath -- it would take time for him to recover. But Charles would recover, Erik had no doubts about that. Humanity wouldn't be able to erase his brilliance or his strength, even if Charles couldn't see that yet. Erik held his gaze, his own softening as he took in his pinched expression. "Charles --"

"I want to help you with your vision." Charles cut him off in a clipped voice, his gaze shifting, becoming sharp and calculating. He grinned up at Erik, small and cutting, his every word a promise and a threat. His agony and his remorse still filled the room, but they were increasingly far away, buried underneath the careful composure Erik suspected had saved him many times in the past few months. Charles leaned back against his pillows, eyes a bit brighter than before -- Except no, this wasn't brightness. It was blinding. "Whatever you need, I'm yours."

"I need you by my side. You said once we could guide this generation of mutants, protect them." Erik couldn't resist the urge to grab Charles' hands this time and tangle their fingers together, to try and embed his hope and his love into his skin, until both displaced the hollowness and brought his Charles back to him. Charles glanced down at where Erik's thumb made circles against his pulse, gaze emptier than ever.

"We'll protect them, and you'll guide them." Charles corrected him after a moment, untangling their hands without any of his characteristic gentleness. This time the emotions underneath flickered with regret, memories pushing their way to the surface, only to collapse before Erik caught any of them. Erik stood up abruptly, not sure he could stand the pain alongside Charles' blank gaze and wariness, his every word a betrayal of the man Erik knew him to be.

Erik leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, closing his eyes and trying to remember regret meant Charles was still there underneath. In time, he would come back to himself, and he and Erik would guide the next generation side by side. Erik refused every other possibility.

*****

Erik suspended missions for the next few weeks, claiming his people needed to memorize the grounds, find the weak spots and escape routes of their new base. It was true, but it wasn't why Erik insisted they stayed. He needed Charles to be protected until he was well enough to take care of himself, and Erik didn't know when or if that day would come anymore.

On the surface, Charles thrived since his return. He pushed himself during physical therapy, regaining his stamina little by little, lean muscles growing stronger by the day. Charles ate, if not robustly, enough for his skin to regain the healthy glow from before. The circles under his eyes faded, and his hair grew back little by little, short and spiky, with touches of a premature gray. He slept a little less each day, the lingering dullness in his gaze replaced with increasing awareness, his voice crisp and polite.

Charles was a model patient. It terrified Erik.

Terrified all of them, going by the way Raven slipped in and out their -- Charles' room, her words colored with concern and frustration. Charles answered every question politely, no rage in his tone, no sense of betrayal. But also no affection or love, none of the kindness or dry wit that so defined Charles. He was merely civil, nothing else.

Hank didn't have much more luck, his attempts to get Charles to talk met with a dismissal. Erik often caught him leaving the bedroom, fiddling with his glasses and mouth pinched, and their worried gazes would meet across the hallway. It was strange, having something in common with Hank.

But Charles refused to admit anything was wrong, greeting all of them with polite indifference. Erik wondered how he could recognize the crisp vowels and the way he rolled his r's, and still have every word that came out of his mouth sound alien. He visited his bedroom every day, hoping the agony and the shame bubbling under the surface would make their way to Charles' gaze, that the sublime would show in his expression.

Then Erik could figure out how to help him, annihilate these new walls, push through the rubble and find his Charles in the center.

Not that he would be doing so today, because Charles' bed was decidedly empty. Erik decided that was a good sign as he turned on his heel, and made his way down the stairs. Left to his own devices, Charles let himself be consumed by grief and this strange numbness, would pick apart his memories over and over again until he went mad. Charles needed a goal, to be a part of something bigger than himself, where his compassion and wounded optimism could be of real use.

Erik hoped he picked the classroom. He believed in Charles' dream for the school, of creating a space where mutants were free to use their powers and grow without fear. Maybe now Charles would realize they wanted the same thing, that Charles' school and Erik's fight were simply two halves of the same war.

Erik stopped by classroom after classroom, peering between cracks in the door and sighing when he caught sight of Sean teaching spelling to a group of small children or Alex demonstrating his abilities to several wide-eyed teens. He wondered who else worked here, if Charles hired other mutants to help teach, or if he used to allow humans in his precious school. Of course, knowing Charles, he probably just taught most of the classes himself.

Or he had, at any rate, because Erik scouted the entire first floor without catching a glimpse of Charles or feeling the smooth metal of his chair. He stopped at the elevator, grudgingly impressed Hank built it so quickly and without disrupting the foundations of the building. He reached out with his powers, sensing the familiar combination of metal and white spaces of plastic.

Erik cursed under his breath, because there was no good reason for Charles to be in the bunkers, but plenty of bad ones to lead him astray. He flicked his wrist and the elevator car flew back up, the doors opening for him, somehow cold and welcoming at the same time. A bit like Charles himself these days. Erik slid inside and careened back down the shaft, the pace bordering on unsafe. He brought the car to an abrupt stop and slid the door open, following the sensation of Charles' cuff links and his chair down the hallway.

Erik bit back a sigh when he found Charles connected to Cerebro, wires leading up from the helmet to the ceiling. Erik followed the metal as far as he could, taking in the strong lines and careful wiring. Hank and Charles were thorough, if nothing else. It was still too soon. Cerebro strained Charles, pushed him to his limit, and they had no idea where his was anymore. If he had a panic attack or broke down while on Cerebro -- Well, the aftermath for all of them was not worth considering.

Erik settled for coming up to the side of the machine, tapping two fingers along Charles' helmet until he glanced up at him. He blinked a few times, the dreamy quality to his gaze ebbing away, replaced with complacency. Erik raised an eyebrow and stared at Charles, trying to find a spark in those empty blue eyes. They stayed defiantly dull, and eventually Erik had to look away. "You're already back on Cerebro."

"Hank gave me permission to go back to work." Charles told him flatly, his smile amused and dismissive all at once. Erik scoffed under his breath and reminded himself to speak with Hank later, because that was premature no matter how well his physical therapy was going.

Of course, he couldn't entirely blame Hank. Erik was sure he gave Charles careful instructions, dangled his research and the potential of taking spelling classes back from Sean in front of him like a carrot, anything to break Charles' heady malaise. Hell, Erik hoped for the same a few minutes ago. They both should have known Charles would end up here.

"He did. I thought you would be back in the classroom." Erik glanced around the empty room, no windows or artwork along the wall, white and sterile. It reminded him of Shaw's labs, and Erik shuddered, the metal not near Charles' shaking alongside him. A soothing tendril brushed across his mind, not forcing the thought away but accepting his pain and offering space for it. Charles left as quickly as he slipped inside, any flicker of kindness gone from his expression. Erik crossed his arms against his chest, glancing down at Charles and pressing his mouth into a thin line. If his suffering didn't snap Charles out of his self-pity, hopefully someone else's would. "Some of the younger students are having nightmares."

"I imagine they are, considering that so is half the staff." Charles mused as he flicked his gaze away from Erik, back to the numbers printing out neatly on the screen across from them. Erik wondered if they stole the technology from the CIA. He hoped so, they should get something out of that fucked up little arrangement.

Erik gave him a considering stare, taking in the lines and curves of Charles' face, the slightly too sharp cheekbones and early morning stubble giving his face an edge it didn't have normally.

It would be enticing, if not for the reasons for his sharpness, the anguish and dread rising and crashing in his mind. Erik leaned over so they were eye to eye, resting a hand on Charles' shoulder, his thumb darting out toward his collarbone. "But not you?"

"No, not me." Charles' murmured, his words crisp and clear, none of the hurt Erik saw in Charles' mind visible on his face. It never was these days, when before Charles showed everything, open and vulnerable in a way Erik thought foolish. Or he had, but now that it was gone, he found he missed Charles' easy smiles and bright eyes, the warmth of his empathy. Charles caught his eye then, giving him a half-smile which might as well have been a grimace. "Was there something you wanted?"

"I thought you might care for a game of chess. It's been awhile." Erik smiled gingerly, tapping his hand alongside Charles' helmet again, flicking his wrist so Cerebro lifted up by half an inch. Charles scoffed at him, a smile at the corner of his lips, but it reached nowhere near his eyes.

"I'm not interested in chess anymore." Charles murmured as he closed his eyes, and Erik savored the regret behind each word for a moment. He reached a hand out toward Charles' cheek, and the emotion receded into nothingness again, every emotion contained and in order. Erik stilled and held his empty gaze for a second, and then he turned on his heel and stormed down the hallway. He somehow sensed he had lost this time, before they even started to play. He wouldn't lose again, not when Charles the little ivory king on the board.

********

Erik's concern only grew in the following days, as Charles spent nearly all his time on Cerebro or in his study going over whatever data he collected, not once going near a classroom. He planned his day around carefully avoiding them, plates in the sink by the time Erik woke up and his door locked for the night long before dinner.

Charles slipped in and out of the halls like a specter, only the tortured whispers of his mind making his presence known. He kept every conversation short, his words polite but dismissive. No more word games or wry grins, no gentle smiles or soothing Erik's nightmares.

Worse, Charles lost what gains he had made, circles under his eyes coming back with every day he spent attached to Cerebro, losing his appetite for everything but tea and whiskey. He barely paid attention to Raven's teasing or her worried attempts to push food on his plate, and he only spoke with Hank to tell him about data points he gathered via Cerebro. Erik suspected Alex and Sean didn't get that much, their gazes tight and hurt every time they were in the same room as him.

Erik reached a point where he was relieved Charles bothered with showering and getting dressed, because at least he was making an effort. He hadn't given up yet, not entirely. Erik held onto that. He waited for him some nights, standing in his doorway hoping Charles would show up with an expression this time. He did so tonight, leaning against the door and making the knobs twist into different shapes.

Erik needed to make a breakthrough here. He couldn't spend all his time on Charles, as much as he wished so. He still had to build their future, and the work wouldn't stop simply because Charles failed to do his part.

Except no, that wasn't entirely fair. Charles scouted out enemy bases for him, gave him lists of names he no longer had to worry about and ones he shouldn't trust. He delivered them in little notes he slid underneath Erik's door, one of them currently crumpled in his right hand. A base in Ohio, small but with potential to become dangerous if they didn't cut it off at the root.

Charles still devoted himself to their mission, just without any of the fervor from before. Erik was grateful for the information, the promises that some men were never as much of a threat as he feared while others were worse. He was glad they finally chose on the same side. Truly.

But he missed the Charles who wanted to guide his mutant brothers and sisters, taught them to control and embrace their powers, comforted them and held space for their suffering. Erik needed his warmth and his optimism, and their cause needed his compassion and measured brilliance to truly prosper. Charles' work, both as a scientist and as a teacher, helped create the world Erik wanted to fight for and protect. Without that balance, he was unmoored, sure of his cause but not of what came next anymore.

Erik swallowed when he sensed Charles' coming out of the elevator, the familiar weight of his cufflinks calling out to him. He started to round the corner when a little girl around six or seven darted out of her bedroom, her messy black hair coming loose from hastily tied pigtails. She came to a stop in front of Charles and tugged on his cardigan sleeve with both hands, showing off a missing front tooth when she grinned. Charles rewarded her with a small smile, far more genuine than any of the ones Erik had received in the past month. "Professor, can you read me a story?"

"Alison, you should already be asleep." Charles' tone was kinder than the one he had used ever since his rescue, his smile a little easier. His words aligned with his mind, a gentle warmth rising up and trying to push through the layers of ice and despair. For a second Erik thought the softness might win out, but Charles' mind snapped, the protective wall of frigid steel clamping down on the warmth until there was nothing left. His smile grew brittle as he flicked his gaze away from Alison and over to the end of the hallway. "I'm busy. Go to bed."

She frowned and pulled on his sleeve again, but Charles kept his gaze firmly locked on empty space on the other side of the room. Erik stiffened where he hid behind the wall, letting his disapproval spread through the halls and brush against the edges of Charles' mind. Charles took a sharp intake of breath, and Alison glanced up at him with bright eyes, her bottom lip wavering as she let go of his cardigan. "But we were in the middle of Anne of Green Gables and you said -"

"That was before." Charles' voice rose slightly on the last few words, an erratic quality to them that matched the rise and fall of his thoughts. Alison started at his tone, eyes growing watery as she took a step back. Charles' guilt surged in both their minds, this time accentuated with a blistering shame. Charles shut his eyes tightly and took a few deep breaths, the mask of constructed indifference slowly overtaking the remorse. Erik hated it and was thankful at the same time. He suspected Charles needed to break, but he wouldn't forgive himself if it was in front of one of his children. Charles opened his eyes after a moment, his expression a near perfect facsimile of the real him. "But Hank is your professor now, and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to read you the next chapter."

Alison nodded quickly, her eyes still shining with unshed tears as she started down the hallway. Erik waited until she was out of sight before he stepped around the corner, meeting Charles' unimpressed gaze with a flat one of his own. He raised an eyebrow when Charles pushed past him without a word, any genuine emotion gone from his face. Erik sauntered over to his side, tilting his head in time with the bedroom door sliding open. "Where do you get off being so rude to a child?"

"The quicker they understand things have changed, the better it is for all of us." Charles said in a tranquil voice, though Erik noticed his words lacked the easy crispness of before. They had a shakiness to them now, a tremor under the surface. Erik held onto that as he followed Charles inside, flicking his wrist to lock the door behind them. Charles turned around and raised his eyebrow, lips pursed as he gave Erik a careful once over. "I don't need help getting to bed."

"I know you don't." Erik murmured as he took a seat on the edge of Charles' -- fuck it, their bed, running his thumb along one of the seams of the duvet. Charles huffed under his breath, and Erik sensed relief and something almost fond underneath his indifference, which grew more fragile by the day. Charles' defenses would shatter sooner or later, and Erik intended to be there for him when he did, to hold him in his grief and help him build himself back together. Erik reached a hand out, taking Charles' own in his, relief blooming in his chest when he didn't pull away. "That doesn't mean you don't need help."

"Why would I need help? Am I still not doing enough for your little mission?" Charles asked in the same measured tone as before, except this time the words were clipped. Charles closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, trying to push down whatever was rising to the surface. Erik ran his thumb over Charles' wrist, making little circles against his skin. Charles opened his eyes, gaze listless again, and Erik let go. Charles grinned at him without any good humor or warmth, his hand hanging weakly in the air between them. "If you want me to use Cerebro to tear a few minds asunder -"

"I want you to be yourself!" Erik snapped, his voice rising on every word, and a few of the handles on the dresser snapped in half, one of Charles' ballpoint pens flinging across the room and smacking against the wall. Charles glanced down at the now bent pen with a small sigh, shaking his head a little, his gaze thoroughly unimpressed when he met Erik's own. Erik pressed his mouth into a thin line, lifting a hand up so the knobs shifted back to their rightful place and the pen straightened out. Erik shifted forward so they were mere inches apart, his hand hovering near Charles' cheek. "I don't know what this act you're putting on is -"

"This is who I am now." Charles corrected him with a mechanical smile, his tone bordering on the serene this time. His shields of detachment in his mind slowly grew stronger again, repressing his anguish, but everything else along with it as well.

"No it isn't. You're not like this." Erik hissed before he could stop himself, anger roiling in his chest, the metal in the room not touching Charles beginning to shudder. Charles was not some empty-eyed doll who spent his days glued to a machine and his nights smelling of whiskey, who seemingly had no opinions of his own or interest in doing anything but Erik's bidding. Charles was alive, obnoxiously opinionated and stubborn, compassionate and driven and -- Erik couldn't lose him. Not to this nothingness. Erik dug his fingers into the duvet to keep his hands steady and leaned forward so their faces nearly touched. "You're a teacher, you don't send children away crying."

"They carved all of that kindness and softness out of me, Erik." Charles murmured and this time regret spilled through the cracks in Charles' walls, heady and overwhelming. Erik sunk into the sensation, the quiet longing that didn't quite reach his face. Charles gazed up at him with a bitter little smile, and Erik wondered if he realized he was showing emotions again. "This is what's left."

"No it isn't. I can still feel you." Erik said with more confidence than before, letting go of the sheet to brush his thumb along Charles' cheek, the angles too sharp. Charles blinked owlishly at him, scrunching up his nose and giving Erik a look of tempered disbelief. Tempered, because he was already pushing his emotions down, locking himself away. Erik wanted to grab Charles by the shoulders, to shake him until everything he was trying to hide broke free. He settled for running his hand along the side of Charles' face, resting it against his jaw. "Let me help you."

"I don't want your help, Erik. I like who I've become. I can see the world clearly now, and I won't let sentiment or weakness blind me again." Charles held his gaze with a steady one of his own, a hint of a smirk at the corners of his mouth. It was not the amused, self-satisfied one from before, which charmed and vexed Erik in equal measures. Erik wanted to point out Charles wouldn't be feeling so much regret if he truly liked himself better, wouldn't be in so much agony –

Except maybe Charles didn't know he was. Charles projected his emotions out to Erik before Cuba, usually in bed but sometimes to comfort him or to show him the quieter parts of himself, the whispered doubts no one else was allowed to see.

But what Charles was doing now felt different. Erik perceived his emotions in layers, the depths underneath the thin veneer of indifference. He suspected Charles did not, that he only experienced the calm facade he shared with everyone else. The idea made Erik still, not sure how to solve something he couldn't begin to understand. "Charles, I -"

"Not even the sentiment I have for you, old friend. I'll help you with war, be your weapon, but I won't be more than that." Charles cut him off with a sad little smile, pushing Erik's hand away from his jaw. A spark of longing burned in both their minds, and then faded away like everything else.

"We need you to be more. They need you." Erik pleaded as he reached a hand out toward Charles, brow furrowed as he considered the possibilities. He wanted to bring Charles back to himself gently, to mirror the compassion and humor Charles offered him and his students. But Erik suspected he couldn't, and didn't know if it was what Charles needed. He has no idea what would help Charles, how to free him from the chasm he created. He only knew one thing, really. "I need you."

"I'm sorry, my friend, but you do not." Charles corrected him softly, and resignation flowed through his mind, bleeding into the indifference with an ease the rest of Charles' emotions didn't have. Erik swallowed and leaned over and pressed a kiss to Charles' forehead, one hand resting on his shoulder. You're wrong. And with that thought, he unlocked their door and left Charles to his whiskey and hopefully some sleep. Erik needed to plan.