Inspired by the Savage Garden song with same name.
Charles felt his eyelids grow heavy, he had been driving for hours, but this was not the time to fall asleep. Too much was at stake. He rubbed his face with his left hand and spared a glance in the rear-view mirror. The babies were asleep in the backseat, thank heavens.
Jean was dreaming of flowers and butterflies, very faintly projecting. It was nothing that could be picked up, so Charles did not bother to cloak it. If he was honest with himself, he did not think he could spare the effort right now.
Scott was lazily sucking on his thumb in his sleep and Bobby had his head in Ororo´s lap. At 10 years of age, she was the oldest one. Sharp as a button and quiet as a mouse. She had quickly taken it upon herself to take care of the little ones whenever Charles was unavailable or whenever shielding them from another psychic search had taken so much out of him, he was a wreck.
Charles had lost track of time. Hours, days, weeks, they meant nothing to him anymore. Was it really only months when they were gearing up to fly to Cuba? Giddy with excitement, scared, but hopeful, thinking they knew what could go wrong.
They had known nothing.
Naive, foolish, Charles had thought that after they had defeated Shaw the worst was over. He had believed that they would be welcomed as heroes. They had stopped World War Three. But then suddenly the ships were firing and everything had moved so fast. Before he could stop him, before he even realized what he meant to do, Erik had turned the missiles and the ships went up in smoke.
In the following weeks Charles' biggest fears and Erik's expectations had become reality. The political leaders had quickly found a common goal in mutant extermination. It wasn't Moira's fault, not at all, even though Erik still blames her. Erik wanted her dead, Charles would not stand for it. He blocked her memories instead and let her go back to CIA. Unfortunately he had underestimated Emma Frost. Faced with the choice between death and co-operation with her captors, she became a powerful weapon in the search and destroy crusade. After unlocking Moira's memories, it was childishly easy to lure them into a trap. The humans had not counted on Charles' and Magneto's - that was what Erik was calling himself now, after Raven's death he had refused to listen to his 'human' name - combined powers and they had been easily able to hold them back. However, the CIA had gotten what they came for: Hank.
With Emma and a new Cerebro, the military had been very successful in their genocide. For every mutant Charles and Erik could locate and extract, they would kill ten. He had tried, they all had tried and achieved more than could have been expected of them, but they were slowly losing the battle.
Charles pulled up into the parking lot of another cheap motel. Was it the twelfth? Sixteenth? He didn't know. He only knew it was two weeks since he had spoken to Erik for the last time. It might as well be a lifetime.
'Don't think of him, don't think of anything, you need to concentrate,' he berated himself.
Procuring the key and wiping the clerk's memory was a routine use of his powers, but he was so tired. So very tired.
He scooped up Bobby and Jean in his arms and carried them inside. Ororo followed with baby Scott. Two beds. That would do. Charles would sleep in the chair. At this point he would probably be able to sleep on his feet.
After tucking the kids into bed, he went looking for a kettle. There was only a coffee machine. Pouring himself a glass of water instead, he finally allowed his eyes to close. It was 4 am. Emma usually didn't do a search around this time of night.
Now that he could relax a little bit, his mind automatically reached out to Erik. He knew it was useless. Erik has been wearing Shaw's helmet twenty-four-seven, because he was Emma's main target. Take out Magneto, take out the resistance.
Charles didn't even know if Erik was still alive. Erik, his beautiful, stubborn, foolish man, who refused to give up no matter what. It was a month ago that he had seen him last. The mansion was long gone, reduced to rubble, taking Alex with it. Instead they had been holed up in an old bunker. Erik and Janos were keeping the army at bay, while Sean, Angel and Azazel were attacking from above. Erik had told Charles to take the children and run. He had refused, of course, but then Azazel had grabbed and teleported them into a car.
Charles had been running ever since.
Charles' head became heavy, the glass slipping out of his hand and its contents spilling on the floor. He never heard the door opening...
If this is all too grim and gloomy for you, check out Serenity's 'How are the kids?' on Archive of our Own, she has written a lovely happy-end to my dystopian horror story.