Erik and Raven were in D.C. the first week of October, 1963. There had been a shooting several miles outside the CIA headquarters, which convinced Erik that a trip to America was necessary. Both he and Raven were suspicious of the handful of humans who knew about the mutant involvement in the Cuban Missile Crisis. But after a short time investigating, it became clear that the CIA and, by extension, the U.S. government, were all too concerned with the Cold War to invest any real effort into 'solving' the mutant situation.
But what they did learn, completely by accident, was the alarming discovery that America's very own JFK was mutant.
He was quiet on the plane ride home, and not just his usual stoic silence. Raven could see his eyes moving, the cogs in his brain turning quickly. She was watching the sun rise out the window; it was a passenger jet, which made her uneasy. It was difficult to talk when they were surrounded by alert businessmen.
"The attack on the CIA, it wasn't a third party. Someone inside knows what we know." He whispered.
"About Kennedy?" She said.
"He's not safe," he said.
"As long as anyone in power knows about mutants, we aren't safe, either."
"I know. I never held the CIA in very high confidence to begin with." Erik paused. "If only he hadn't put so much trust in those agents. I'll have to kill them."
She knew he meant Charles. Was JFK's life really in danger because of him? Their association with U.S. officials years ago had ended on a bad note. No one could pretend to be surprised that a chain of events had been set in motion.
Not five weeks later, all contact was lost with the Brotherhood of Mutants. Emma, Azazel and the others were nowhere to be found; by all appearances, they had dropped off the grid. They found Emma's blood on the inside of her apartment.
Erik was livid. He hadn't spoken more than a few tense sentences to Raven since they had gone missing, staying locked in his room watching every news report he could, searching for some sign of them—for without their contact with Emma and the others, it was just the two of them, Raven and Erik, not daring to so much as step outside their home. Without any knowledge of this new threat, he was determined not to make any more mistakes until he knew what they were up against.
She had an herbal tea in both of her hands when she tapped on the door to his study on the sixth night. The sound of the television was the only noise she could hear.
Erik opened the door without rising from his seat, without even moving. His face was turned away from her, his tousled hair making it clear he was concerned with very little but the matter at hand.
Walking quietly, she approached his chair and pressed a mug into his palm, a silent encouragement. Still no movement, not even a glance. Raven reached over and turned down the volume on the news; a small town in Canada was being ravaged by a fire, apparently the best story the station could come up with at 2 a.m.
They sat together quietly for a minute, Raven on the side of his red armchair with her feet stretched toward the hearth of the fireplace. She had several layers on, but it was still frigid.
"Your friend Charles is not as unassuming as I thought him to be." He said.
She was surprised at first. "Charles? No, Erik. You know he couldn't."
He gave her a stare, the one that made her feel exposed, the one that said 'such a naïve one, you are'. Only after she looked away did he continue. "If he's read my mind, he knows about our raid against the Capitol. The only thing stopping him from knowing our exact location at this exact moment is this," he made a small gesture to the wall and ceiling, "and if Charles has resorted to kidnapping as a means to stop us, I fear he is well-equipped enough to do so."
"No. I refuse to believe that. You're trying to convince yourself it was Charles because you don't want to admit anyone could have slipped under your radar long enough to premeditate an ambush." She said.
"You're suggesting I'm a slave to my own pride?" He said.
"We have to ask the right questions if we're going to get anywhere, and it's not whether or not Charles wants to make a show of power." She said.
"Let's suppose I let go of my pride if you let go of your empathy," he said.
"I'm not trying to protect Charles." She said acidly. "But if you'd like to argue about it some more, we should agree to talk about the actual Charles and not the antagonizing version of him you're describing."
Stony-faced, he looked back at the television and took a drink.
Raven was fire to his ice. "If he isn't behind this, and we keep assuming he is, it means we'll be cowering in this godforsaken basement for as long as you believe the walls can keep Charles out. You and I are a team because we both know the real enemies are humans. And suddenly, in a crisis, all you can do is point fingers at other mutants? Do something about this!"
She knew he was thinking about her words. To a degree, he was afraid of Charles. No, not afraid, she thought. Just acutely aware of how capable he was, especially with so many new mutant recruits filling the halls of his school. Charles painted a dangerous picture of hope for his mutants.
Erik, wary of this, had founded a home that he shared with Raven, an old bomb shelter refitted into something livable. The walls were lined with a rare synthesized metal, the same material in his helmet that made it impossible for Charles to read his mind. Only the Russians had possession of it, which was why the two of them lived there now, just south of the Siberian region.
Azazel had the helmet with him the night he and the other three disappeared, so this was their last line of confidentiality where Charles was concerned.
And if he really thought Charles had hostile intentions, staying inside was probably the best option he could come up with. But cowering was not part of Erik's ethic, and she knew he felt guilty for allowing his fear to keep him from acting. He blinked eyes that were bloodshot and sunken.
Raven said, "You've taken too many precautions with this plan. JFK? Your whole CIA plan? Charles can't possibly know. The Brotherhood could be dead tomorrow, Erik, if they aren't already. In fact, we should be asking for his help."
He hesitated, but only for a millisecond. "No."
"We have no idea what or where-"
"If you are right, it means the humans are responsible." He said coolly. "And he is too human for me to trust."
She wanted to see her brother again, but she would never admit it. And she stopped arguing because she knew that Erik knew that.
He leaned forward and turned the TV off. "I'm going to sleep." Then he kissed her hair and left the room. And for the first time, Raven suddenly missed listening to Charles nag her about going to bed.