A.N. Hey everyone. It's 12:12am at the moment (I kid you not), but I got my first two reviews EVER just a little while ago, so I can't sleep yet. So instead, I'm writing another fanfic.
He hadn't been able to comprehend it at first. Charles had always been such a presence in the world, the spirit on the other edge of his helmet, the crippled figure watching over the diplomat on T.V., the genial leader of the X-Men… this figure couldn't be mortal. So Erik took Jean, and made his way back to the camp. The reality of the situation didn't begin to click until they were halfway to his wood-based lair. Charles had, for want of a better word, disintegrated. His enemy, his friend, his blood-brother… he had died. Still, Erik's mind rebelled at the idea. 'Not Charles,' he wanted to tell the world. The man was… the man was… And then he began to realize. Charles was just a man. His telepathy was strong, true. But he had no healing powers, and his disability left him vulnerable. Erik had to physically stop himself from leaping up from his seat in the helicopter that they were travelling in. his entire body was rebelling against the stillness. He wanted to leap up, to leap out of the helicopter—whether it was flying or not—and go find Charles! Jean looked up at him, her eyes dark with hell-fire, almost as if she had heard him through his helmet. Who knew, perhaps she had. 'Wait,' his mind told him. (His mind had taken on its own personality and voice many years ago. Most would blame mental illness. Erik blamed prolonged contact with numerous telepaths.) 'Wait. Wait until you're alone. Then you can search for him. But for now… wait.'
So Erik waited. Waited as they finally touched down in the base camp. Waited as the other members of his army examined and greeted the new recruit. Waited as they had their customary celebrations. And then finally, Erik couldn't wait any longer. He excused himself, and began his walk out of the clearing. He saw one of his bodyguards begin to rise, but Jean stopped him. So Jean did know after all. Erik wasn't sure how he felt about that. Normally he'd assume that Jean knew the professor was alive, and didn't want the mix of joy and sorrow to be witnessed. And yet… there was something hard and cruel about Jean now—as if she wanted to ensure that he endured his sufferings alone. Erik walked for ages, until he was far away from the campsite. He then used his comm.-link to call a young telepath, and asked her to mind-link him. The young girl was gentle and discrete—trustworthy, as opposed to Miss Jean Grey. Erik started with Rogue. He winced as he felt the blasts of pain, of grief, of rage… he cut the link instantly. Wolverine was the next target. His mind was quieter, his emotions more simple. His mind was raging with sorrow. He was mourning, Erik realized, and cut that connection too. It felt too intrusive to enter his mind now… not when the warrior was grieving. Storm's mind was flashing with emotions, like the bolts of lightning her powers allowed her to throw around. But Erik knew from her mind, that she too was mourning Charles. There was only one way to find out.
Erik hesitated before taking this last step. Then he sat down on the forest floor, relaxed his muscles… and opened the telepathic link between him and Charles. It had been built by Charles many years ago, back when he was still a naïve young man who believed that he, Charles, and their school could stop the coming war. It had started out purely for convenience—with so many teenagers in the house, it made life easier if the two adults were able to contact each other instantly. As the pair had become closer, the link had grown, strengthened, solidified… Erik had been able to even enter Charles' mind when he wasn't blocking him in those days. However, that was before Erik had put on the helmet to become Magneto… and blocked Charles from his mind forever. The bond opened as if it was a metal door that had been left to rust. It creaked and groaned and it took all of Erik's mental power to open it. Finally, it was open. Erik took a moment to collect himself, then sent out a psychic blast. Nothing. At least when Charles had been blocking him out, it had been like throwing a ball against an invisible wall. You may not see the wall, but you knew your ball had hit something. But now there was nothing to hit. Erik panicked. He sent out blast after blast, each getting wilder and weaker, until… Erik collapsed. His other-mind, the one that was like a telepath in his head was keening. 'Charles! Charles!' Erik groaned. "He can't be gone," he whispered to himself. "Not Charles. Not my brother." But the link in his mind remained empty and silent.
