Charles sat before the fireplace in the library with a glass of red wine dangling from his right hand. His gaze fixed vacantly on the floor just in front of his chair, where it rested comfortably among the shadows. He felt his mind expand and contract with the thoughts around him, floating along the sea of consciousnesses. He let it, happy to sit back as a passive observer as he drifted inside his mind, and tried not to drift into anyone else's. The thoughts that were surfacing were too spirited and vibrant, just a little bit too young for him to delve into too deeply.

Charles sighed. He wasn't a young man anymore, despite Hank's assurance that he had retained his good looks. A small smile crossed his face as he thought of Hank, and his other old students…his teachers now, he supposed, shaking his head slightly. When had that happened?

When had he gotten to be old enough to have his students teaching at his school? He was proud of his Academy, the school he had built from the ground up. He had intended it as a safe haven for mutants and it had entirely fulfilled his expectations as that. His old house had never been put to a better use. He was proud of himself, his achievements and of his students, all of them, old and new. Every aspect of his present was fundamentally positive, except perhaps what it all was built on. Nevertheless, he was doing his utmost to improve the lives of the world's 'freaks', and by all accounts, he was succeeding.

So why did he still feel a darkness lingering in his mind?

A glance over at the coffee table to his left quickly confirmed the answer he already knew. His gaze passed over their chess set…it was still frozen in the middle of their last game. …Eric.

A familiar pain shot through his head when he thought of his old friend and he reached out as he always did with his mind, just in case this time he could find him. Ten years since the beach…ten years since he had last seen Eric…ten years since he had been put in this infernal wheelchair.

He may still look young, but Charles was old. So old. And he missed his friend. Could someone ever grow up enough not to miss their best friend? He had his school, he had respect and his morals were being amply served. The only thing missing was the man he had planned it with. As always, he was hit with a sense of loss. Eric could have been a great asset to the cause, he could have been an inspiration, and perhaps most importantly of all, though it was selfish to admit it, Charles' friend. Instead he was…what? If only Charles knew. All that was certain was that wherever Charles was, Eric was far away and on the opposite side.

Charles knew this. Of course he did, but that couldn't stop him missing their conversations, their arguments. He had been a great companion. And now was he an enemy? Charles truly hoped that he wasn't, but he couldn't quite convince himself of it.

He slowly steered over to the coffee table in the wonderful wheelchair Hank had built for him. He still saw Hank every so often, but the blue-furred Beast was involved in politics now and rarely had the time to visit old friends. Charles steeped his fingers and rested his chin on them, staring at the chess set. Eric had been winning.

He needed to focus on the present. Regrets accosted him with could haves and should haves but as much as he wanted to, he could not change anything that had already passed. No-one could, not even someone with his abilities.

He needed to let the past go. Now. That was what he needed to remember. Now. Now he had Logan, he had Hank and Storm, Grayson and Jean, and students that needed him, mutants that needed rescuing. Charles grinned. How dramatic of him. Just to reassure himself of the wonder of the present, Charles briefly opened up his floating mind and listened…dreams, feet on floorboards, passionate kisses and woozy drunken thoughts…nerves, anticipation, wonder, safety, determination…security.

Taking a sip of his wine, he picked up the black king and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Ah, what a shame you left us Eric, he thought. You could have been a part of this.

He needed to think about the future now. Shaking his head sadly, Charles put the king in his pocket and wheeled out towards Cerebro. His visit was long overdue.