I've been reading – and loving – X-Men comics since I was 12 or 13, but never thought about writing fics; I guess it was about time, seeing as I've known these characters since I was in kindergarten and even met X-Chris in 2006 (and probably made a fool of myself in front of him, since my English was rather embarrassing at the time).

I must confess I'm not a big fan of the first movie trilogy, but you know what they say, wisdom comes with age: I was too young to fully appreciate a movie so different from my favourite comic, but now I can watch McAvoy's Zach-Braff-like hairstyle and still enjoy his portrayal of Charles and the fact that they made Raven his little sister out of nowhere – hell, I can even LOVE his hair! And while I don't ship Cherik I find their bromance beautiful and also very close to what it is supposed to be.

This story is movieverse and set during XMA, and I tried to be as faithful to canon as possible, taking something from the comics wherever I could. The fic, though, was completed before the digital edition with all the deleted scenes came out, so I hope you'll forgive my version of some events that only happened off-screen in the movie.

About the characters' ages I ask that you suspend your disbelief. Whoever wrote the end credits in XMFC clearly failed Maths in school spectacularly, and the time gaps between the movies are even crazier, so I decided to create my own timeline. Hope it works for you. If you're interested in my rambling musings, you can find them in the end notes to the first chapter.

Since English is not my first language, I hope you'll forgive any mistakes (you're welcome to point them out to me, I'll see to fix them as soon as possible!) and my weird mixture of British and American English. I hope you'll still be able to enjoy my fic :)

Crossposted on AO3 and my LJ (AryYuna89) as well.

DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Marvel and Fox blablabla you know how it goes.

To Enrica, my wonderful X-friend, the main reason this fic exists in the first place. She's such a special person I keep wondering what I ever did to deserve her in my life.

Thank you, honey, for your patience during my freak-outs, for sharing the enthusiasm for the movie with me, for dragging me in the shipping pit with you and for beta-ing this story. I love you so much *hearts*

And everybody should love you as well! So I'm gonna leave here the link to your wonderful fanfiction page, so that people can come and ADORE you like you deserve: archiveofourown DOT org/users/EnryS/pseuds/EnryS

#1

She could hear laughter in the distance; the meticulously trimmed bushes and rich trees hid its source from her view, but she could just picture it in her head: the vast lawn, books and bags scattered on the ground, balls being thrown, children running, playing, chatting and studying without a care in the world beyond homework and first kisses.

She snorted. The iron gates didn't just hide the mutants from the rest of society, they also kept society away from them; sheltered from the horrors of real life, they could just pretend the world beyond the school was kind and the future was bright. Happy.

Mystique knew it was a lie, just like the polite smiles and horny looks her disguise earned from humans – they all would turn suspicious, at best, if she wore her true form. And she was actually lucky, because she could hide, if she chose to.

Her gaze flickered to the mutant walking alongside her towards the mansion.

Kurt Wagner had never known anonymity. His blue skin couldn't be concealed, his yellow eyes couldn't pretend to be blue; wherever he went, people stared. And the stares were often more than just impolite.

Washington hadn't changed things as much as many mutants wanted to believe: the world had learnt about them and had called Mystique a hero for saving a human president, but nobody had ever forgotten that he'd been in danger in the first place because of another mutant, one who'd already killed a president. One who was still free out there, his whereabouts unknown – until now.

Crossing the front door, it was like time had stopped: the elegant dark wood and cream colored marble, the fine carpets, the heavy chandeliers, everything looked just the same. An elevator had been installed on her left, a few different decorative objects adorned the furniture, but if she closed her eyes she could just smell her childhood.

She'd never really allowed herself to think about coming back to Westchester, lest she'd end up abandoning everything in exchange for the safety of that place. The mission was too important, more than her comfort, more than everything. Safety was for the others, for the dreamers like Charles, for the kids she rescued, but someone had to live in the real world so that others could hide – her brother, Erik, Hank.

Still. Being back was… overwhelming.

While not perfect, the years she'd spent in that house – so big, it had looked like a castle inhabited by kings to the six-year-old that had sneaked into the kitchen searching for food – held some of her brightest memories: in that house she'd never been hungry or cold, and for the first time in her life she'd felt safe; loved, even. Charles had protected her – more than she wanted, more than she could stand – and given her the chance to survive, to grow up and become what she wanted. She owed him everything. And still, she was only back to ask for more. But as a not-blue Hank – are you still ashamed of yourself after all this time? – joined her in the hall and Kurt was finally welcomed to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, she couldn't bring herself to regret her decision.

(X)

Hank had taken her around the school, proudly showing their accomplishments. While at first glance not much had changed, the tour told her a different story: some of the ground floor rooms had been turned into classrooms, while on the floor above there were dormitories and entertainment areas. More bathrooms had been installed, the kitchen had been refurnished and equipped to feed more people, the vast dining room on the other side of the corridor now had more tables and chairs, serving as the school cafeteria; outside, near the lake there were a basketball court and some targets for archery. The underground bunker wanted by Sharon Xavier's second husband, where Alex had first trained, now included a bigger jet and a newly improved Cerebro, used to find more students; next to it, there was a reinforced room where the mutants with more destructive powers could learn to control themselves in a safe environment.

Her friend had reassured her that her old bedroom hadn't been touched, though, and she could sleep there if she chose to stay for the night. It both warmed her inside and disturbed her that they would keep the room empty as if she were just on a short trip and would soon be back home. Hank didn't look surprised when she firmly – coldly – stated she would leave after speaking to her brother – a little disappointed, maybe, but swiftly covered it up informing her that Charles and Alex would be back soon.

The actual meeting was harder than she thought, though: meeting Hank again had been strange, but pleasant; seeing Charles cut her breath and brought tears to her eyes. Moira's confusion at her greeting was a godsend, allowing her to focus on something other than her brother in a wheelchair. It wasn't like she didn't know: while he'd been walking in Paris, she'd watched him on TV on multiple occasions since then – with the new popularity mutants had gained after Washington, Professor Xavier had become the go-to guy for anything mutant-related. But seeing him in front of her made everything more real, somehow. It made her betrayal – he mentioned it so casually, as if she'd just left Cuba to go grocery shopping, as if he hadn't been laying bloody on the sand, and shit, Moira really was lucky – so much worse.

He wasn't angry, though; just hurt, especially when she remarked that it wasn't her home – she didn't want to have a home, she didn't want to feel welcome. She needed to keep travelling, rescuing mutants, preparing them for the war. The school was good, but it was too saturated in Charles' naivety to really be of help.

Mystique knew mutants didn't need a place to hide; she knew they needed more than a few passionate words exchanged in an afternoon talk show. The school was a good start, but what difference would it make when the sentinels would be produced again? Trask had just been the first, more would come: they were too different, and men would always fear what was different.

You still sound just like him, you sound just like Erik.

But Erik had been hiding since Washington, while Mystique had been struggling to recreate the Brotherhood and give mutants a cause and the means to fight for it.

And still, her loyalty to Erik hadn't vanished. He'd been the first to treat her as an adult, the first who hadn't tried either to harm or protect her. He'd trusted her to be her own person, allowed her to grow up. He had played as big a role in forging her as Charles: while her brother had given her a childhood, Erik had given her wings to fly. And now she did fly, on her own. And she was proud of herself. Mutant and proud for real, finally.

(X)

Taking the elevator to the basement together was like going back twenty years. Sure, they were older, wrinkles and white hair had started to show on their features, but she felt the same easy camaraderie as when they'd trained together the first time. Twenty-one years ago.

And still, so much had changed: Sean was dead, Erik was missing, Moira had forgotten having ever gone to battle alongside mutants in Cuba, let alone having loved one of them; Alex had fought in a war that had stripped him of whatever innocence he'd managed to hold even in solitary confinement; Charles had been betrayed by the girl he loved like a sister and the man he considered his best friend, had suffered an injury that had changed forever his life, had fallen and risen again to pursue his naïve dream; and Raven – Raven had become Mystique, a hero for both mutant and humankind, had learnt that battles were fought in equal parts on the field and in the generals' bedrooms. She had loved and grieved, and turned into something she was finally proud of.

Maybe Hank was the one who'd changed the less; awkward like the teenager he'd been, his comment about Cerebro's color had brought a slight smile to her lips. They'd grown up and that particular ship had sailed, but he too had played a huge a part in shaping the woman Mystique had become. He'd been the first man she'd ever felt comfortable enough with beside her brother; the first lover she hadn't had to hide from. She had been too young – at heart, if not in age – to call it love, but the time she'd spent with Hank she would always hold among her happiest memories.

That's why she cried for his help when her brother started screaming in agony. Gripping Charles' shoulder like a scared little girl, so different from the self-confident woman she usually carried herself as, she demanded that her friend do something, fix it, because that's what he did: he fixed things.

What a joke that the only way to fix it was to destroy everything.

When he'd left the States after what had happened in Washington, he'd vowed to never go back. He was a wanted man, and alone; he'd thought about going to Westchester, confident Charles would give him a second chance – and a third, and a fourth – but he'd needed a fresh start: to leave everything behind and start anew.

He'd found himself in Poland, where by fate or chance he'd met another Auschwitz survivor; desperation and loneliness had brought them together.

With neither a revenge to carry on nor a Brotherhood to lead, Magneto had been slowly dying, while Erik was just unable to live.

Magda had saved him. She'd showed him a new life, one Magneto would have never considered, one Erik hadn't dared to dream of.

Magda had healed his wounds and patiently listened when – probably trying to prove to himself he was just unworthy of such luck – he'd confessed all he was to her, expecting her to scream and run away, to call him a monster, to confirm once again how cruel humanity could be with those who where different. But she'd only showed him love.

Holding Nina in his arms for the first time, Erik had cried with joy.

When humans had taken everything from him, he'd cried again, in rage and despair.

(X)

It was like glancing back in time: Charles, non-blue Mystique, furless Beast, Agent MacTaggert and Havok, all together in that house, a grotesque imitation of what they used to be. If he closed his eyes he could almost hear Banshee's shrieks, see the chess set in the library.

But he didn't close his eyes. He stretched his arm, feeling the metal of Charles' wheelchair as if it were part of himself, and reached with his power to summon it. Raven's cry didn't even register in his mind, nor did Alex's insult or Hank's scream. A portal appeared and he vanished into it with his new comrades and their unaware new member. The hot sands of Egypt opened on the other side and the mansion disappeared behind their backs.

While En Sabah Nur took place on a rock high enough to overlook the city on the opposite shore of the Nile, Magneto leaned down onto the still form of his friend and gently lifted him into his arms and lay him on the ground. With a tenderness that shouldn't have been part of a man that had killed without a second thought just hours earlier, Erik peeled off his friend's jacket to place it under his head and got rid of the metal chair he wouldn't need anymore. Archangel proudly stood at Nur's side, ready for the battle, and Psylocke smirked to herself tasting a future where she wouldn't be forced to hide underground, but Storm's attentive gaze followed his every move, with intelligent eyes that questioned, judged.

He ignored her. She had followed En Sabah Nur because, just like him, she'd been wronged by those below her, had suffered because of people that should've treated them as the gods they were. She was young, probably still too scared, but she would understand that they'd made the right choice; just like Charles.

Destruction was all he'd ever known. Now, it would be what everyone else would know as well.

(X)

The helmet the ancient mutant shaped for him represented everything Erik had left behind the first time he'd held Magda; with Nur's powers covering him he didn't need its protection, but having it in his hands made him feel somehow complete: when he donned it, Magneto was finally born again. And still, his former friend didn't look in the least intimidated, even towered over by all of them, even rendered innocuous by Nur's powers while they all had their talents enhanced. It just wasn't in his nature to back down in the face of danger. Even powerless and immobile, Charles didn't lose his stubbornness – or his naivety. But time would prove him wrong.

Magneto lifted himself above the city to unleash his power – to show every Homo Sapiens they should bow to their future.

It was liberating.

It was like finally being able to see after a whole life of blindness.

The metal all around the globe vibrated in his blood, the very core of Earth responded to his call. Buildings crumpled to the ground at his mere thought, cars and machines pulverized, the particles following the path drawn by him.

He got lost in the utter power, so pure, so absolute. His eyes closed, he didn't hear the screams of those below him; not even Nur's voice registered in his mind anymore. He was so different now from the man those vermin had locked in a prison made of plastic and sand under the Pentagon: he'd been cut from his powers, deaf to the call of metal, blind to the beautiful lines of magnetic fields. The years he'd spent under the Pentagon had been worse than death, but humans would never manage to cage Magneto again: his powers were stronger, his rage was unstoppable; he could feel every iron gate all around the world, every metal bridge, every single gear inside the wristwatches of men and women that were now shaking in fear.

He barely heard Mystique's voice. She and the silver-haired boy he recognized as the one who'd helped him escape from his prison talked about family, about fighting. A plane crashed a few hundred yards away, and the woman gasped softly – Charles – but he didn't follow when they left.

Again, he closed his eyes.

There's so much more to you than you know, not just pain and anger. There's good too. I felt it.

You never had the chance to save your family before. But you do now.

He opened his eyes.

The quiet after a battle always felt unnatural: among so much destruction, the silence was as out of place as a rock band in a church. The adrenaline gradually diminishing left her dizzy, her limbs weak and shaky.

Magneto and the white-haired girl slowly floated to the ground, sharing a look of understanding and gratitude.

Mystique sighed and closed her eyes. They'd done it, they'd destroyed another threat – together, like they were meant to be since the beginning. She struggled to her feet and looked at Peter, almost expecting him to jump to his feet and run to his father – Erik, 'cause Erik is his father, she still couldn't wrap her head around it – and scream his revelation then and there, but the kid just wobbled on his good leg and kept his head down, as if suddenly afraid to meet Magneto's eyes. Scared of a reject. She hoped there would be time for them to talk, but who knew what Erik would decide. He'd fought by their side in the end, but he wasn't a team player, he had never been.

For now, though, he seemed content with standing in the middle of the battlefield, his cape billowing behind him, the helmet glistening in the sun that was slowly peeking out through the clouds. The girl at his side only had eyes for her, though. Mystique bristled at the unwanted attention, just like the one she'd received from the students after the explosion of the school, when she's involuntarily switched back to her natural form.

She turned into her favourite blond disguise and asked Peter how he was. Behind them, Hank and Alex's brother jumped to the now exposed first floor of the house to join their friends – and Charles. Among the thrill of the fight, she'd breathed a sigh of relief when she'd heard Apocalypse scream her brother's name, after the crippling fear at seeing the plane crash in the distance.

Content with Peter's status, she approached the two former Horsemen, ignoring the way the girl took a respectful step back. "Erik?"

The man turned towards her. The air still vibrated around him, but it no longer held her back; she was able to close the distance and look him in the eye. He met her gaze unflinchingly, the same pride still exuding from him, even though she could see a hint of something – shame? Regret? – in his eyes.

Erik didn't speak, just spread his arms and gracefully lifted himself to reach the others.

Mystique shook her head and sighed again. Then set to slowly climb the broken walls of the devastated house to follow him.

(X)

The young redhead telepath was back to looking meek and non-threatening, and seeing her now one would never think she'd been responsible for the extraordinary display of power that had ultimately been Apocalypse's defeat.

She was kneeling at Charles' side with Hank and Moira. The woman had an odd expression on her face as she looked at the man – was he bald? Raven felt the absurd impulse to tease him – stretched out before her. Hank's fierce hairy form held a disconcertingly gentle paw on his friend's shoulder.

Kurt had visibly just woken up, but she could see he was unharmed, only tired. Scott was by him, a hand on his blue schoolmate's arm, his voice firm as he caught the other up on the latest developments of the battle. Though his eyes were hidden by the red glasses that contained his powers, his mouth was set in such a familiar way Mystique felt a pang of regret at the thought of Alex, lost in the explosion – could she hope he'd somehow survived?

Erik stood a little to the side, as if uncertain if he had the right to be there. It was so uncharacteristic of him that she took pity and voiced the question she knew he wanted to ask.

"Everybody okay?" She wanted to know as well, after all.

Surprisingly, it was Jean who answered in the affirmative, though her eyes lingered on Charles a second too long. Her voice sounded stronger than it had on the plane, her green eyes sparkled with a new light. War made you wiser, stronger. Older.

The quiet after a battle was so weird, she thought again: after moving so fast, screaming so loud, fighting so hard, going back to normal always felt stilted, as if the body couldn't remember how to do simple things. Everything felt unimportant in the face of what had just happened, and they just stood there in that hollow calm, waiting for a new danger to surface.

It was Moira who broke the silence, announcing they couldn't stay there much longer. She got up, promising she would find some means of transportation to get back to America. Her eyes were oddly wet.

It was as if she'd flicked a switch with her departure. Hank stood up with a last squeeze to Charles' shoulder and told – ordered – the three kids to search for survivors among the ruins of the battlefield. He didn't think they would find anyone, but his never-ending hope compelled him to at least try. At the very least, Nur's victims deserved a proper burial.

The kids nodded and preceded him down the broken walls. Mystique followed him with her eyes as he jumped down and approached Peter to take care of his broken leg. The white-haired girl patiently sad down among the debris, waiting for the victors to decide her fate.

Once alone, Charles closed his eyes. Raven could see how pale he was under the blood crusted to the side of his head. She flashed back to his agonized screams in Cerebro, and found herself kneeling beside him, a hand reaching to gently stroke his cold cheek.

Her brother slowly focused back on her. A soft smile curled the corners of his lips.

"You're okay," he whispered, visibly relieved. Before she could answer, his gaze found Erik and, if possible, brightened even more. "I knew you would find the good in you."

Erik scoffed, shaking his head at his friend's undying optimism. He didn't comment, though – nor did he leave. Maybe Charles was right after all, she marveled.

(X)

Despite all their best efforts, Kurt and his friends – his teammates – hadn't found anybody among the ruins, alive or dead. Apocalypse's powers had disintegrated roads and buildings and people like sandcastles. She saw them through the opening in the wall, returning with their backs hunched over in defeat.

They're just kids.

No. They were kids.

The words she'd overheard twenty years before sounded, again, true and ominous. Mutants, it seemed, were destined to grow up too early. Her heart constricted painfully at the sight of Kurt's young face devoid of his usual hopeful smile, and she wished to reach out and caress his dark hair, kiss his blue skin. She restrained herself and shot a worried look to her brother, but he didn't seem conscious enough to talk let alone read her mind.

Nevertheless, she rose to her feet nodding at Erik to stay, and joined the others in the streets.

"I don't think the CIA is going to help us," Hank announced when he saw her approaching. "This means we'll have to use a more creative way to get a plane." He looked confident and strong in his furred form, so different than the mild looking man who'd welcomed her back at the school… was it just hours before?

"Charles looks exhausted; I don't think he'll be able to help us."

Hank nodded, having seemingly expected that. The pointed look he gave her was irritating, but when she tried to escape his eyes she found five other people staring at her full of the same faith – and hope.

She wished that fucking day in Washington had never happened.

Erik sat down on the floor next to Charles' makeshift bed and pulled the helmet from his head; he turned it in his hands, watching his reflection on the smooth surface. He could feel the metal it was made of as if it were an extension of his own fingers; all the metal around them called to him. Nur's powers were still flowing through his veins and he wondered how long their effect would last, if he'd always be like that. The thought for some reason scared him.

"You would probably agree," he said aloud, even though his companion wasn't awake to hear. He found himself worried for his friend – and guilty. He hadn't forgotten that he'd been the one to apprehend Charles, nor had Mystique and Beast, he was sure of that. Not that Magneto was afraid of them.

Still.

Moira came back empty-handed, disappointed that her contacts hadn't been enough to grant them the lift home they would need. So naïve, just like the man she'd loved. They'd really found each other. Feeling like he was intruding something private, he left the woman sit vigil next to the injured telepath and descended into the street.

He'd never been good at waiting.

He opened his arms, ignoring the wince he caught coursing through the kids and the hard stare Beast aimed at him while splinting the fast boy's leg; the metal answered his call, floating up around him, returning to the Earth where it belonged. He couldn't rebuild what Apocalypse had destroyed, but he could give back what he had taken as the fourth Horseman. A useless gesture, but he thought Charles would appreciate it.

The rage hadn't completely left him; he didn't think it ever would. The pain was still there, tearing him up inside with every memory that came unexpected. But destruction wasn't the answer, right Charles? He reached to the point between rage and serenity, and the backbone of a building took shape before him.

Nobody talked around him. Hank ignored him and what he was doing, while the white-haired boy awkwardly stared at him; Charles' students eyed his work warily. Storm sat a bit to the side, unsure what her role was in all that. He almost wanted to reach out to her, reassure her that Charles would sure forgive anything she'd done, but surprisingly the kid with the dark glasses took the initiative.

When Raven – in the shape of a soldier – came back driving a military truck, announcing that with the right amount of money they would find a plane at the airport ready to take them wherever the fuck we'll want, they all breathed a sigh of relief: at least money wasn't a problem.

Hank patted the fast boy's shoulder and entrusted him to their young teammates before he ran to the wrecked house and reached the first floor in one jump; the kids helped each other onto the truck, and by some unspoken agreement they left a spot for the girl that in the end had helped them in the final battle. Erik was glad for her; he didn't expect to get the same treatment himself, though.

The furred mutant didn't descend the walls like he'd done up to that moment, opting to take the door of the house to get down, so as not to jostle too much the precious burden in his arms. Erik felt Raven hold her breath for a moment at the sight of her brother.

While he'd never been very tall, even more so after Cuba and the injury that forced him to look at life from a seated position, he now looked impossibly small and breakable in the massive arms of the Beast. The wound on his head looked even worse because of his sudden baldness and the excessive paleness of his skin. Hank's face was a mask of feral impassivity, but Moira, trailing behind them, couldn't hide her worry to the same degree.

Without a word, Erik shook himself and climbed in the front of the truck, appointing himself as driver to the airport. Nobody took the passenger's seat.

(XXX)

This story is five chapters long and I've already written them all. I'll post once per week, so I have enough time to re-read them and fix anything that needs it. Review are always welcome! :D

As for the ages, in the end credits to XMFC, McAvoy!Charles is mentioned to be 24, while kid!Charles is supposed to be 12. Which would be okay – it would even match what Logan says about the Professor in DOFP ("I know your powers came when you were nine. I know you thought you were going crazy when it started, all the voices in your head. And it wasn't until you were twelve that you realized all the voices were in everyone else's head": it's clear kid!Charles has a good mastery of his powers when he finds Raven) – if not for the fact that between 1962 and 1944 there are EIGHTEEN YEARS, not twelve. So I either had to move the kitchen scene forward (but the war would be over by then, Auschwitz would be liberated already) or make everybody younger in the first scene (because I refuse to make McAvoy!Charles 30 in FC, 'cause that would make him 51 in XMA and the actor barely looks his own age let alone Charles' XD). I settled for this second option. I hope it's not too much of a problem for you. And that my reasoning is understandable XD