Raven had said, grilled cheese. You know, the one Charles used to make her when he was ten because that was the only thing he was able to manage on his own.
Hank had said, pecan pie would be nice, and Alex had laughed it off, saying that he'd have beer. Amused, Charles had raised his eyebrow as to say that he was still underage remember, but didn't say anything.
Sean had said ice cream in every flavor he can imagine. Well, he deserves it, proudly smiled.
Moira, surprised she was asked as well (between the mutants she did feel out of place a bit and asked herself a number of times if she belonged there), but had said, she'd probably wish for a nice long bath.
Erik had said, a quiet game of chess with you, Charles, with a nice glass of scotch, that is all I want. The others looked at each other and rolled their eyes, nudging each other.
Charles had said that everyone will get everything they want. Once their mission is complete, and they are back at home, everyone safe and together. Good luck.
They didn't.
Now Charles sits in his wheelchair, gazing towards the mansion. Alone.
The days in the hospital were fuzzy and a blur.
Everything had felt so unreal, so fake, like a dream. He had no moment to mourn the loss or celebrate the mission's success.
But now that he is back.
Charles knows he needs to act as if everything is alright, for his family.
To smile and encourage them that they would be fine, and despite what had happened, a bright future will be set.
But the thing is, no one had told him it would be this painful, that it would hurt much more than the legs he feels no more, like fuck, to return home.
'Home.'
The Cuban Missile Crisis had ripped away the two people he loved more than anything, he thinks over, his dearly sister, and Erik, oh Erik.
Erik who had been his real start, his everything, his joy, family, brother and lover.
Moira, who had been by his side this whole time until his 'recovery' is gone as well now, and Charles sits alone before the mansion.
What is worse is that he can still feel it all, and knows he will feel it all.
Raven's favorite mug tucked away in the kitchen.
Her cosmetics still laid out in the bathroom.
Her high-heeled stilettos she showed off, lying on the living room carpet.
Her magazines on the table with its quizzes filled out with little checkmarks.
Not to mention, Erik's leather jacket thrown casually on a chair in his room, as if waiting for its owner to return.
The pillows still smelling like him, and faintly of Charles too maybe, after all the times they had slept together in that room.
Books stacked here and there, all of which Charles had recommended Erik to read.
And the chessboard, the game frozen in time never to be finished again.
A croaky cry escapes from Charles mouth as he covers his eyes with his right hand, desperately holding back the tears.
He promised himself he would not cry.
He can't afford to.
Yet he will curse himself over and over.
Now just now, but the following days, weeks, months and years.
As to why, despite all that he can do so easily with his mind, his powers would not let him erase his own memories.