I.
Kitty Pryde looks mournfully at Hank, her sallow face almost apologetic. Kitty is seven years old and currently strapped up in Hank's lab, which is not as creepy as it sounds, because Kitty is a zombie, another victim of this apocalypse. She stinks of rotting meat and vaguely like eggs, but Hank withstands the smell because, well, science.
He's just about to note down that yes, zombies can on occasion convey limited emotions when Kitty phases through her straps and bites him.
"Ow," Hank says, which out of all the understatements he's made in his life, is probably the greatest.
He knows that if you get a burn, you're meant to run it under cold water immediately to cool it down. He wonders absentmindedly whether he should do that, wash out the zombie-bite, or just whether they should just amputate the hand for safety's sake, or-
Charles, he manages to think clearly in his delirium, and then he passes out.
II.
Mystique had arrived the night before Hank got bitten with baby Kurt - who was a toddler now really - in her arms and a hard line in her shoulders.
"Don't," she had said to Charles when he opened the door, and he hadn't said a word, hadn't asked why she hadn't call, although he couldn't hide the hurt, the relief, on his face.
"I just thought this would be the safest place to spend the Apocalypse," she had said, shrugging.
"Don't call it that," Charles had chastised. "There's an widespread epidemic, yes, but it's not the end of the world."
"Charles, the epidemic is zombies," she had said, moving Kurt from one hip to the other. The little guy was getting heavy after all.
"Hank is confident he can find a cure," Charles had insisted.
"Hank's cures have a history of working out well," she had snapped, and Charles just looked hurt again. He bruised so easily.
"I'm sorry," she had said, meaning it. "May we come in?"
"Of course. Well, there's certainly room for you, more so than usual - the parents have all come for the students. They think it's the end of the world."
"Who's left?"
"Myself, Hank, Alex and Pietro. And Kitty, a student of mine, who got infected. Hank's trying to cure her."
"Magneto hasn't shown up yet?" she had asked, surprised, and uncertain whether she should be relieved or not. Magneto had a knack for showing up at these things, uninvited.
"He went out to try and persuade Wanda to stay here, but she's insisting on staying with her mother. She's stubborn like Erik that way. Pietro's staying here with us, though I haven't the faintest idea why."
Charles had been nervously over-talking, clearly afraid that she was going to spin on her heel and walk away again, which was sweet in a way.
"Magneto's actually right though," she had said, holding on the for once part. "Wanda and Pietro's mother is human right? Her and Wanda won't last tuppence if this escalates any further-"
"I have the upmost faith in Mrs. Maximoff," Charles had said, and his tone said to leave it be, so she had.
Erik had arrived an hour later, his jaw set and a backpack crammed full of guns and ammo over his shoulder. Wanda hadn't come with him.
"Don't ask," he had warned, when Charles had eyed the guns - which seemed to be the phrase of the night - and had handed out the guns like another man would share gum. Mystique took hers gratefully. Mutations were one thing, but she had always felt comforted by the weight of a gun in her hand. Zombies weren't going to stop just because she could make herself look like the President; but they would slow down if she got six rounds into them. Charles had politely declined his gun, and Mystique had felt a fight brewing, so she spoke up.
"I'm afraid that Kurt is going to teleport outside, the way he does, and get bitten by a passing zombie. Anyone got any ideas how to stop him teleporting?" she had asked, trying to put a cheerful spin on it but failing.
"We still have some of the suppressor drugs around…" Hank had suggested, and then took a step back under the sudden wrath in Erik's glare.
"You will not subject that child to suppressors," he had said, jabbing a finger at Hank accusingly. Mystique almost had expected Hank to stammer and say, "No sir," but then again, Hank was Beast now, and he was less afraid of Magneto than he had been. She had spoken up before it got nasty though.
"No, not the injections, but a bracelet or something? Could you do that?" Mystique had asked.
Hank had nodded quickly, and Erik had scowled. "What?" she had snapped at him. "Do you want Kurt to die? Idealistically, yes we wouldn't have to do this - I think I, of all people, don't like the idea of suppressing who you are - but this isn't about ideals Erik, it's about keeping Kurt alive."
"Right," Hank had said after a second's delay, eyeing Erik first. "I'll get started on that bracelet then. Would you mind bringing Kurt down to the lab Mystique?"
Erik had stepped forward again but Hank had spoken quickly, "-just to measure his arms and legs that is, after all, we'll want the bracelet to fit him comfortably. There'll be no tests or anything like that."
"No tests," Mystique had agreed, and had gone to find Pietro, who had been delighted to be reunited with Kurt and was minding him somewhere, to get Kurt down to the lab.
A zombie had been restrained carefully in the lab. "That must be Kitty," she had said, studying the little girl from afar. Hank had followed her gaze. "Yes, she was a student here but her parents pulled her out when the outbreak started. Of course, when she got bitten, they dropped her here and told us to deal with it. That's parents for you."
"What are you doing to her?" Mystique had asked, holding Kurt far away from the zombie girl.
"Just running a few tests, trying to find a cure," Hank had said off-handedly. "Now let's make that bracelet for the little man."
Mystique hadn't even thought to ask what Kitty's mutation was. She hadn't asked whether mutants would keep their mutations when they became zombies, and now Kitty had phased through her straps and bitten Hank, and Mystique could have done something about it, if she'd just stopped to think.
She contemplates now, as Hank is unconscious on the floor, the bite-mark a nasty green colour on his wrist, that maybe the mansion isn't the safest place to spend the apocalypse after all.
III.
"We took the liberty of restraining you Hank," Charles is saying, "just in case."
Hank totally understands the 'just in case' bit. If he decides to majorly freak out, then he could cause major damage. But he isn't freaking out. He's fine. He got bitten by a zombie, but he's okay, isn't he?
"It's fine," he says, opening his eyes. Zombie Kitty is lolling her head at him, and if he didn't know any better he'd think that she is mocking him. She's been impaled by a steel rod through the arm, and Erik has a hand held in that direction, obviously holding her in place. Hank absently hopes it's not hurting her.
"Does anyone have any ideas how to stop me becoming a zombie?" he asks, his voice cracking a little.
"I said we should have cut off the hand immediately," Magneto says. That's Erik for you - always thinking that he can make the tough choice, but it's always someone else's hypothetical hand Erik is so in favour of chopping off, not his own.
"I could do it, if you want Hank, and it would cauterise," Alex suggests, "So you wouldn't bleed out or anything. If that's what you want me to do Hank."
Alex is never this nice, and that makes Hank realise the gravity of the situation. His legs are shaking now, but it's just adrenaline, he's not actually scared, he's just-
"I don't want to lose my hand," he says weakly, but no-one agrees with him, no-one says I'm sure it'll be okay Hank, you don't have to do this. "Oh god, no," he says, and then screws his eyes shut. "Do it, okay, just get it over with, please."
He hears shuffling, and knows Alex is going to blast his hand off- and then Charles says, "Wait, no, give me a minute, please." A gentle voice speaks in Hank's head, urging him to go back to sleep, and Hank agrees with that voice - sleeping would be nice now, yes, anything but this - and then the world goes black again.
IV.
Mystique leaves the room before they burn Hank's hand off. She takes Kurt upstairs, away from all that, and puts him on the bed.
"How's my baby boy?" she asks, tickling his belly. He gurgles, and then, before she loses her nerve, Mystique carefully places the bracelet Hank had made around Kurt's chubby ankle. He kicks a little but lets her do it, watching her with those intelligent eyes. She closes the clasp and her baby changes, changes into a human baby, into a pink-skinned, blond-haired human baby boy, who's suddenly crying because his tail has vanished, and she picks him up instinctively, but he's not her's, he's not Kurt, he's a stranger's child, a changeling.
Kurt is still wailing when Pietro appears into the room. "Is everything okay?" he asks, and then double-takes as he looks at Kurt.
"Take him off me," Mystique orders, and Pietro obligingly steps forward, taking the baby gently.
Mystique walks to the window and looks out over the garden, her throat tight. She is blue and Azazel was red. Their child was going to be human or normal, and she had made peace with that. But now, seeing him as a beautiful all-american little boy who would never have to hide or be hated or-
Pietro coos at Kurt, calming him, and lets her have her moment. When she's ready, she turns around, but she finds she can't look at it, at that blond thing in Pietro's arms that looks nothing like her son.
"Would you mind?" she says, waving a hand, and he nods in understanding. "Myself and the little man might go for a stroll," he says. "You take all the time you need."
Times like this, she wonders how Erik managed to have a son like Pietro. He's a good kid.
V.
"Hrrrungh," Hank groans, waking up. Alex comes over to him, guilt clear on his features, worry too. "Hey Hank, you feeling okay?"
No, Hank thinks. I'm dying or worse, so I'm not quite okay, thanks. That doesn't come out though. What he says is, "Nrrndd."
Alex frowns. "I couldn't quite make that out Hank, man. Try again."
"Wwddrr," Hank says, carefully and deliberately. His lips are numb and chapped, and won't move the way he wants them to. All he wants is a glass of water. Hank struggles against the straps, and then remembers the arm, and stops. It doesn't hurt, which is wrong in itself, but he doesn't look at it. He just wants some water.
"Wwuwwr," he tries, pitifully, and tears come to his eyes.
Alex looks worried. "I'll go get the professor. He'll know what you mean."
Charles comes into the lab a while later, but stays well back from Hank, which is appropriate but also hurtful.
"How are you feeling Hank?" he asks. Hank groans a little in response.
"Yes, I heard you are having difficultly communicating," Charles says in his teaching tone, like it's something he should try to work on in the future, like bad grammar or spelling or something. Hank looks pointedly at Charles and thinks about water.
"I'm dreadfully sorry Hank," Charles says after a moment, his face falling. "I just can't seem to hear what you're thinking. It's like there's bad reception."
Hank sags into the straps, and idly wonders they had done to Zombie Kitty. If she could still phase - well there was nothing in the world that could hold her for long.
"I better go," Charles says. "Myself, Mystique and Erik are trying to come up with a plan of action."
Hank understands the implication - that Alex and Pietro aren't going to be much help, and that Kurt is just a baby. They all have useful mutations but are dead weights when it comes down to solving the problem, planning. He nods his head slowly. He used to be one of the useful ones, but not anymore he supposes.
"I'll be back again in a while," Charles says apologetically, and wheels away. Alex sits back down.
"I'm sorry," he says after a while. "About your arm that is. I know you agreed, but-"
Hank concentrates hard, and manages to shake his head, hoping that Alex will understand.
"You can fight this," Alex says. "You're Beast. If anyone can fight this, it's you."
Hank blinks, and then realises how exhausted he is, and closes his eyes, and falls asleep again.
VI.
"Oh man, your hair is going grey and like, falling off. Is that, is your skin-" a voice says, and trails off. Hank raises his head slowly. There's a boy with grey hair looking at him.
"Does it hurt?" the boy asks. He sounds sad, or worried maybe. Hank doesn't know what's supposed to be hurting him. His body is cold, and numb, but there's no pain.
"Do you know who I am?" the boy asks, stepping closer. Hank tries to shake his head but it's stiff and he gives up.
The boy swears, and moves quickly to the door, quicker than seems real, mumbling about something about Charles.
Charles. That sounds familiar, but Hank can't remember why. He struggles a little against the straps, and clumps of his hair fall off as he does. It used to be blue, he thinks, but the strange boy is right. His hair is grey and dry and brittle now.
Charles. He knows a Charles, doesn't he?
VII.
The mansion is totally self-sufficient in theory. In reality they grow a few mangey vegetables out in the gardens that are very sporadically watered, though the wine-cellar would be a fine source of calories if it came to that.
Short-term, they have the food brought in for the students. No-one wants to think about the long-term.
"Assessments?" Erik asks, taking on the role of the drill sergeant. It suits him, like the way the shadow of stubble on his face and the bruised knuckles suit him. Erik has always wanted war, and this is one that he can fight with Charles' approval. It's cathartic for both of them.
"The Kitty Situation is an issue," Charles admits. "It proves that zombies do in fact retain our mutations."
"Then why hasn't she done it before?"
"From what I can gather, Hank was in close proximity to her. Her hunger was obviously a factor, and the phasing was probably instinctive. I think that if we have her restrained and don't stray too close to her, it won't occur to her to phase, for a while at least."
Erik nods, and Charles feels a surge of something close to joy at the gesture of approval, which is ridiculous.
"And how's Hank?" he asks.
Charles lowers his voice. "Not good. He's lost the ability to speak, or recognise people, but he appears to have retained higher functions. I can still control his mind at the moment, though I don't know how long it will last," he clarifies.
"Did the suppressor work on Kurt?" Erik prompts Mystique. She turns to him, distracted. "Yes. He's not in danger of teleporting outside or anything now."
"Good," Erik says, though it's obvious he's not entirely pleased with this situation. "Now, I've done a stock check and it's not looking great. I propose we raid the local village today."
"Who's 'we'?" Charles asks, half-afraid he'll be asked to go, but more afraid that he'll be immediately counted out as useless, a dead weight because of his dead legs.
Erik blinks. "Well I'll need you at least Charles. You'll convince any humans we encounter to give us what we need, not to attack us, so on. Mystique, I'm taking you primarily because of your combat abilities, should they be needed," and to protect Charles if it comes to it, Charles hears so clearly it might have been said aloud. "Alex and Pietro will stay here and hold the fort."
"You're expecting two teenagers to mind my baby, protect the house from attack, and cope with the two zombies we already have wandering around?" Mystique asks.
Erik looks at her coldly. "If you have a better proposal, by all means…"
She doesn't reply. She's really not herself, and Charles reminds himself to ask her what's troubling her.
"That's settled then," Erik says. "Gather what you need. We leave in an hour."
Charles begins to wheel himself away, but Erik lays a hand on his shoulder. "A moment, if you would, Charles."
VIII.
Lights are bright. Closes eyes. Opens again- sniff. There's food. Food - meat - far side of the room. Meat asleep. Meat stupid.
Hank shuffles towards the meat. Quiet now. Meat snoring.
There - arm. Hank bites the arm and the meat's eyes open and scream and move fast, but Hank chews on the bite he got. Meat.
IX.
Pietro is a heavy sleeper. He burns up a lot of energy during the day or whatever, and so maybe it hadn't been the best idea to put the guy who goes unconscious for hours at a time on guard duty.
He realises how incredibly stupid falling asleep was when he wakes with a jolt to Zombie Hank happily gnawing on his shoulder.
He sprints to the far side of the run, screaming, and tries not to panic.
Breathe in. Breathe out. A second hasn't passed yet, which is good, he decides. He can beat this - they can what, burn off his shoulder? do something-
Pietro's metabolism has always worked at breakneck speed, which is normally great, because going super-fast means he needs a whole lot of calories. Now, this is a major disadvantage, because he feels the zombie-infection trickle into his bloodstream and sweep through his veins like cold water, like poison. "Oh shit," he says, morbidly curious as he watches the skin on his shoulder go green, then purple, then black, all around the area where Hank bit him.
PROFESSOR, he remembers to yells in his head, finally, and then he's freezing and numb all over, and and thinks no more.
X.
"Charles," Erik says, in his as-close-as-I'll-come-to-pleading voice.
"No."
"Charles, the apocalypse is not the time to be stubborn."
"I- shut up."
Erik puts a hand on either side of Charles' wheelchair and leans over him. "Listen. You're wheelchair-bound, which is not ideal right now. You have no telepathic control over the zombies, so you have no defences, no attacks, nothing! Now take the gun, goddamn it."
"I don't like guns Erik, and with good reason."
"I know," Erik says, and his face softens, "I know and I'm sorry. But you have to take it and you have to use it if needs be. I won't have you dying for something as trivial as a dislike for guns, and Mystique and I can't spend the entire raid watching out for you."
There are a lot of cutting things that Charles could say to that, but he swallows them and takes the gun from Erik. Their fingers brush, and Erik is still leaning over him, and -
"No," Charles says, "Jesus, oh no," and Erik's face falls. "What? Dammit Charles, what is it?"
"It's Pietro," Charles says. "Erik, run!"
Erik sprints, Charles following behind him in the chair, but they're too late. Hank and Pietro - or what remains of them- are thrashing against the lab door, trying to get out.
Erik surges forward towards the handle and Charles is forced to stop him with his mind.
No.
Erik is frozen in place, still reaching for the door.
My son, Charles.
Charles holds Erik there until he thinks he is calm enough; and even then, when he's let go, Erik does not get viciously angry at Charles for restraining him. He stares through the window in the lab door, stares at Pietro's sunken features, his dead eyes.
After a long time Charles rolls away, leaving Erik at the door.
XI.
Their second meeting is not as optimistic as the first. Hank's a zombie, Pietro's a zombie, and no-one is mentioning anything about leaving to get supplies now.
"No-one is to harm Pietro," Erik growls.
"That was never the plan, old friend," Charles says. "We still have hopes that we can cure them."
No-one comments on the fact that it was Hank who was doing all the research, and that he's a zombie now, plus all the research itself is trapped in the basement with him. No-one says either that Erik was the person doing all the planning, and now that they'd lost Pietro, they seem to have lost Erik too.
"Well what is the plan then?" Mystique asks. Erik spins around to stare at her as if he'd forgotten she was there.
"Don't give me that look Magneto," she warns.
"No Erik," Charles says quickly. "That's not happening."
"What? What's he thinking?" Mystique asks. "At least run it by me first."
"No," Charles insists, but Erik ignores him.
"Mystique, if you could take on the appearance of a zombie, they should leave you alone because it seems it's smell that triggers it, so you should be able to retrieve the research unharmed."
Mystique tilts her head, to stare Erik down, considering it.
"Let's be honest here," she says, looking directly at Charles, who sighs - she knows her own brand of brutal honesty cuts like nothing else - "It's the only way. I mean, you're useless here Charles, no offence-"
"None taken-"
"Plus," Alex cuts in, "None of them are wearing metal cause no-one's dumb enough to do that when Magneto's around,"
"Exactly," Mystique says. "Well except for Zombie Kitty, when you impaled her in the arm. She could phase through that at any time."
"Mystique?" Alex asks. "I can still be useful. Zombies still burn. So I'll stand guard, and if anyone goes to hurt you, I'll have your back."
Mystique smiles. "Thanks Alex."
"You saved my life, back at the army. I didn't forget."
"Sorry to ruin the poignant moment there," Erik butts in, "but I will not allow you to blast Pietro, Alex. He's still my son."
"Your son who wants to eat your brains."
"Irrelevant."
"What about if I aim for the legs then? Won't kill him- well, he's undead anyway, but if he ever becomes human again-"
"Pietro's legs are essential to his mutation. He'd never forgive me."
"I did," Charles says softly, and there's an awful, awful silence that Mystique instinctively wants to run away from, but instead she grits her teeth and turns to Alex again.
"Look Alex, your aim isn't the best, and it's an inclosed environment. I don't want a blast ricocheting and slicing me in half."
Alex grimaces but doesn't deny it. Mystique takes a breath and bounces on her heels. "I've done harder," she says, almost to herself. Considering her company, she's almost surprised that someone doesn't point out the lie.
"I love how it's the single mother who's going to save all of your asses," she gently mocks, and then changes her appearance before she can change her mind. It only takes a second to make herself appear as a zombie; the rotting skin, the swollen gums, the claw-like nails. She immediately hates holding this figure, but it'll have to do. She tries to stride forward, and then pauses. Her legs don't work like they're supposed to- they're numb and unresponsive, allowing her only a sort of shuffle.
"This better be worth it," she tries to say, but it comes out as a groan instead. She can't even speak?
Charles, she thinks hard, stretching her mind out to his, throwing it open. Charles knows that he's not allowed in there normally, but she'll make an except tonight. After a moment she feels his presence in her thoughts, a gentle touch that you wouldn't know if you weren't looking for it. I'm here, he says reassuringly. Which means you, at least, aren't brain dead, he adds, which kind of ruins the moment, but that's Charles for you.
It's a quiet walk down to the laboratory. Erik stands behind her, ready. He had quickly melted down some knives into a dozen metal balls. The plan was that he'd embed them in the zombies, and use it to push them back if needs be.
Charles is further back, as her translator, Alex by his side, ready to blast the zombies if things get truly nasty.
Mystique wonders, and she shuffles along and smells like rotting eggs, how she thought she was the hero but sort of turned into the bait, which is not what she signed up for.
Hank and Pietro are still pounding at the door, and she wonders would they ever stop. Ten, twenty years, would they still be pawing at the door if left to their own devices?
She groans back at them, and Erik inches the door open with his mind. She squeezes through the gap, and it snicks shut behind her before they can get through.
Pietro dully looks at her.
"Aaarrrgngng" she says, which seems acceptable, and they focus their efforts on the door again.
Now that she can see properly, there's actually a limited intelligence to it. Zombie Hank is swinging his grey-haired, club-like paws against the door like an axe. I used to like you, she thinks, considering him. That seems like an eon ago now, a different girl, a blonde called Raven who had no idea she'd be a mother within a decade. Mystique wonders if Hank still had feelings for her, before he got zombified, if-
Sorry Mystique, but could you hurry along? You're worrying the others, Charles says, and she can't suppress the anger that surges through her. She knows he's right, and that he won't tell what he heard, but that's not the point; that should have been private. She's risking her life for those idiots, didn't she deserve a moment?
She shuffles forward, grabs the nearest folders and gets the hell out of there. Screw this. She has Kurt to think of.
XII.
There was a moment of exultation, shortly after she'd gotten the research, when everything seemed like it would be solved in moments. Then they realised that Hank hadn't a clue how to solve the zombie problem, something they'd all known but chosen to ignore.
Then Zombie Hank manages to splinter through the lab door, and it takes all of Erik's metal balls to hold him back, just for a second, and Pietro flashes past before anyone could see him and sinks his yellow teeth into Alex's neck.
Erik splays out a hand and Charles' wheelchair goes flying down the hall, Charles holding onto the sides for dear life, and Mystique drops the zombie-form and sprints after him. It's too late to do anything for Alex - good job on saving the kid's life, she thinks bitterly after she runs down the hallway. He's yelling and blasting off lasers that burst around them like vivid red flowers, only deadly. Mystique hurdles herself past one that streaks past her face and shoves Charles along.
"Erik," Charles gasps, and Mystique turns. Alex and Pietro are still struggling but Magneto is stepping inch by inch away from Hank, holding the latter in place with his makeshift bullets. He's visibly straining, muscles pulled tight in his neck, and Mystique gets an idea.
"No, Raven-" Charles says, lapsing back into her old name, but she's already running. She slides through Zombie Hank's legs easily, and stands up, now behind him.
"Mmm, tasty human," she mocks. He lurches towards her, Erik forgotten, and she backs into the lab, waits until he's over the threshold and then appears as a zombie. Hank blinks slowly, no doubt confused as to where the tasty meat has gone, and she shuffles past him, and Erik slams the door shut on Zombie Hank.
Zombie Pietro is still biting at Alex, and she wonders whether it would be cleaner just to kill Alex now, save him from that fate, but Erik shoves her along, back to safety.
"That was idiotic," Erik, ever the ungrateful bastard, says as they jog down the hallways, keeping an eye out for any of the zombies.
"I saved your life," she shoots back.
"I had it under control," he says. He's levitating Charles' wheelchair for ease, though it looks to be a rocky ride for Charles, who lurches half-out of it every time they take a corner. It's faster than pushing it though.
"Now's not the time," Charles says from above them, knuckles white from where he's holding onto the arms of the chair. "We lost Alex, we need to regroup somewhere safe-"
"I'm getting Kurt first, I left him in the bedroom."
"I'll take Charles to the kitchen. Lots of metal there," Magneto says. "Get Kurt and meet us there."
She doesn't bother responding but cuts a sharp corner and flies up a flight of stairs, taking them two at a time. The zombie situation has gotten critical, far faster than any of them expected.
Mystique reaches the bedroom, unlocks it, and bundles Kurt up in her arms. He's still human, still wearing his little suppressor. She's almost to the door when there's a thud against it.
Mystique almost calls out Charles' name when she bites her lip.
Charles? she sends out instead. There's nothing, no reply but another thud, and a scratching noise, like a whining dog at the door, but it's not a dog that's outside.
Mystique pats Kurt on the back soothingly, and tries to think. What to do. What to do. She strides to the window, but they're on the second floor - she could probably do it, but not with Kurt. There's another thud at the door.
She makes herself look like a zombie, and Kurt starts wailing, and no wonder, what with his mother rotting and scaring him. The cries seem to aggravate the thing at the door, which thumps against it with renewed vigor. She goes back to blue again - because even if they let her pass, they'd go for Kurt- and then, in a flash of inspiration, breaks the suppressor bracelet off Kurt, and he's blue again, as easy as that.
"C'mon baby," she says. "Teleport us out of here, please baby, teleport."
Kurt watches her and tickles her face with the tip of his tail, obviously happy that it's back. She walks to the wall furtherest from the door, to give them every second possible, and turns her back to the door to offer him the last protection that she can.
"Kurt, Kurt, for mommy, please teleport, please-"
The scratching at the door reaches the handle, which jerks up and down. Mystique yells Charles! Charles! in her head but he's not going to come, he can't do anything, and she stares down at her son.
"Please Kurt- outside, let's go outside-"
The door splints, pieces of wood exploding out onto the floor. Mystique is a fighter, but she can't fight with a baby in her arms, and then there's another splintering blow- one more and they'll be through- and Kurt keeps smiling.
Mystique grabs his tail in her hand and yanks it, hard. He cries out, the final blow comes and a grey hand claws through the hole, but it's too late because they're moving, compressed through space and then safely in the garden.
"I'm so sorry Kurt," she says, but he won't stop crying, and she kisses him lightly on the head, ashamed of herself.
XIII.
"Wait for Mystique," Charles says.
Erik has looted the kitchen for everything with a metal component, and now pots and pans and everything and anything lash outwards, forming a rough sort of metallic barrier around them, a shield, a bubble.
Charles closes his eyes but can still hear Mystique's fear, her pleas.
"There's nothing we can do for her," Erik says, pausing for a second, pots floating around him, like he's the conductor and they're waiting for a cue.
"I know," Charles says, but saying it just makes it worse somehow. He looks around wildly for something else to latch onto, anything. There's about two feet of space, altogether. There's not much there to be inspired by.
"What are we going to eat?" he asks.
"Each other," Erik suggests with a sardonic grin.
"Well, I suppose we ought to eat both my legs first, they're not useful anyway-"
There's a pause, and then Charles sees that the humour has drained from Erik's face. "I said I was going to protect that boy," he says quietly. "My son, Charles, my son."
Charles has no words but reaches forward and holds Erik's hand in his own. "You did the very best you could," he says. "Pietro loved you."
Erik stares at him, and Charles stares back, and if this is oblivion, then it's nothing to fear. Slowly, Erik moves his hand to Charles' neck, and then leans in so Charles can feel his ragged breaths on his cheek and look into his eyes, neither blue nor green but something in between. Charles closes the space between them and closes his eyes too; blindly finds Erik's lips with his own. Erik moves his hand to Charles' hair and moves closer, sighing into it. Charles sighs too- then laughs, his mouth still around Erik's and he feels Erik freeze.
"No, of course I'm not laughing at you, old friend," he says. "I'm laughing because it took the end of the world to get us this far."
Erik nods at that, as if it were a reasonable excuse to stop kissing for a second, but no longer, and he pushes himself back onto Charles, half-sitting on him on the wheelchair. It's more rough, more desperate this time, hands flying out and grabbing and searching. Erik runs a hand down Charles' shoulder blades to the base of his spine and back up, from the sensitive skin on his back right to where there are only vestiges of feeling left, and Charles shimmies forward in the chair so that Erik is straddling him, fully clothed, which just won't do, and he's half-way through ripping Erik's shirt open, and Erik kissing that spot under his jaw when Charles says, "Stop."
Erik, ever respectful, pushes himself backwards, a hurt expression on his face.
"Not you darling, stop taking everything so personally," Charles says. "I want this too, believe me. But I think I've just solved our zombie problem."
Erik slides himself forward again. "That's what you're thinking of right now?" he asks roughly, moving back and forward, until Charles has to dig his nails into Erik's arms to stop from crying out. It's been a long time.
"I knew you'd be the death of productivity Erik," he manages instead, wanting nothing more than to spend a day or several in this haven Erik has made for them, "but we have a duty to save your son."
"You think you can cure Pietro?" Erik asks, eyes alight.
Charles nods, and Erik pushes himself back to his feet and buttons his shirt quickly.
"After," he promises, kissing Charles on the cheek just once. "Now tell me."
XIV.
It's a simple plan. Most plans are, initially.
"The suppressor drugs suppress mutations," he explains carefully, wary that Erik, although highly intelligent, hasn't a clue about science. "And brings the subject back to human form."
Erik watches him, like he's allowing himself to listen but not to hope.
"Remember how Hank was human, and then he turned into Beast? A complete change in the phenotype-" he catches himself and tries again, "Well his genes changed, and he looked different as a result. Then the suppressor brought him back to the human base, so to speak."
"I understand how the suppressor works Charles," Erik says dryly.
"I know, I know. But what is the zombie-virus if not a mutation? It changes appearances, alters genes, after all. I think - I'm not sure, but I think if we get the suppressor into the affected, they should go back to that human base."
Erik stares at him, and Charles knows he's not truly looking at him, but that he's planning, thinking it through.
"Where are the suppressors? Can you make them?"
"No," he admits, "but I don't have to. I kept some, after the Sentinel fiasco, in case I ever wanted to - well, you know."
Erik glares at him, but he really can't complain. "Where?"
"Under my bed. I'm afraid I'm not awfully original."
"Okay," Erik says, and then stainless steel fortress that Erik had made around them shivers and collapses, forks and knives dropping onto the floor, finding gravity again.
There's no-one in sight. "Quickly now," Erik says, and they creep along like teenagers sneaking out after curfew, Charles' wheels' hissing on the floorboards.
Mystique? Charles reaches out tentatively, afraid that there'll be silence on the other end. Mystique?
In the garden with Kurt. Safe for now.
He allows himself that one second to let the relief flow through him.
Hang in there. We have a plan.
They make it to the hallway by the bedroom before they encounter any difficulties. Then, there's Pietro, grey hair and grey skin, eyes dull. He raises his head and looks at them, and surges forward, and Erik reaches behind him for his rifle-
"No Erik!" Charles shouts, but Erik throws the rifle, pushing it forward with his power so that it's a straight line, a barrier between them and Pietro, like the ones that stop cars at checkpoints. Pietro bumps against it again and again, never thinking to duck under it.
"I'll stay here," Erik says, his hand held aloft, holding the rifle in place.
Charles doesn't object but wheels himself into the bedroom, where he encounters a problem. The injections are under his bed - which was fine when he'd been using them and could walk and get down on his knees. It's not so fine now. He pushes himself out of his wheelchair and lands hard on the floor, and then pulls himself forward with his arms, reaching for the box blindly, his legs dead behind him.
XV.
Mystique rocks Kurt uncertainly. Where's safe? The mansion itself is no good, but they're defenceless out here in the open. Charles didn't bother to tell her what the plan actually is. She whips around, again and again. She'll see Hank or Alex coming, yes, but Zombie Kitty could burst out from a wall, and she'd never see Pietro coming at all…
XVI.
Erik holds Pietro back with rifle, his rotting, moaning son, and hopes and prays to all the gods that he doesn't believe in that Charles' plan works.
XVII.
Charles grabs the box and pulls himself out from under the bed. Getting back into the wheelchair from his position on the floor seems like a monumental task now, but there's nothing to be done for it. He grasps the sides of the chair, the box wedged firmly under his arm, and using only his upper body strength - which is lacking at the best of times - pulls himself up and into the seat. It would have been easier just to take the suppressor and have his legs work again - but there's only one injection in the box. They're going to have to prioritise.
"No," Erik says when Charles explains. "Give it to Pietro."
"Erik, you have to be reasonable here. We need Hank to make more of these."
Erik doesn't have words, just a vague fear of time, that if they wait any longer Pietro will be lost, suppressor or not. Charles reads it off him and understands.
"Please trust me Erik," Charles says. There's a long moment before Erik nods, his shoulders sagging, but still holding the rifle aloft, staring at Pietro like this is a betrayal.
XVIII.
It works. It works so well that when they manage to stab Zombie Hank with the suppressor injection - Erik had sent it spinning through the air like a dart- Hank turns back to the original Hank, not even the blue Beast version, but his human self.
The downside is that he's lost a hand in the meantime, something which is only registering now. Charles, hating that he has to do it, steals that memory from Hank and diverts his attention from the arm, eases the pain, and convinces him that he was born with one arm. It's terrible, but there isn't time to waste on the inevitable distraught that comes with needlessly losing a hand.
"The effects of the suppressor won't last long," Hank says, "so I'm going to write down exactly what needs to be done, in case I regress into the zombie state before I finish the new batch, okay?"
Charles nods - surely he can follow instructions, he is a professor of genetics after all, he was the one who came up with this plan after all- and Hank gets to work.
There's a thunderclap sound, though no-one flinches because they all know what it is at this stage, and Mystique and Kurt appear.
"This little guy's power got us out of a tight spot," she says, and Erik looks viciously happy that she's taken off the suppressor bracelet. Kurt too, looks happier for it, though he might have just missed his tail.
Hank finishes the batch, hands shaking. He'd lost the ability to speak an hour ago, and Charles was watching him carefully, making sure he was still thinking like Hank. Hank one-handedly loads up the syringe like a man who's been one-handed all his life- which, admittedly, he thinks he has been- and stabs himself in the neck with it. Colour returns to his cheeks, and he sighs. "Glad it worked. Okay, Erik, can you go around and dose the other zombies please? I'm exhausted."
Erik complies, moodily, but then Erik was never going to enjoy taking orders from Hank.
Erik does Pietro first, then Alex, then little Kitty, who had never figured out how to phase through the second lot of straps, and it's a happy ending.
Except that when Erik sends the syringe into Pietro's neck, his son's hair goes brown, and not back to its characteristic grey. Pietro panics and tries to use his speed, which doesn't work. Alex's lasers don't work, and Kitty can't phase.
"I think," Hank says, "that you guys - me too, I guess - are truly human now."
"But, we don't have to be like this forever, right?" Pietro asks, worried, and Charles didn't blame him. The boy and his mutation seemed inseparable - his speed was almost a character trait.
Hank looks down and doesn't say anything.
"Pietro, if you stop taking the suppressor, you'll probably go back to zombie-form," Charles says as gently as he can.
Pietro looks at him, brown eyes wide. "You mean I'm stuck like this? Human? We have to- we have to see, to make sure- let it wear off…"
"We will," Charles promises, but he can feel the doubt rolling off Hank. He thinks they'll go back to zombies, not mutants, if they stop taking the suppressors. This is fine for Hank, who always had a love/hate relationship with his mutation, but for Pietro and the others, it's not so easy. If they're not mutants, Charles thinks, will they even want to stay at the school? Should humans be allowed? He knows what Erik would say to that, but it's not a question he has to answer yet anyway. There's still a chance.
They sit in the lab, young Kitty Pryde traumatised and just wanting to go home, Mystique with Kurt in her arms, Erik standing against the wall, avoiding Pietro's eyes, Hank and Alex talking softly together, Pietro anxiously pacing at real, human speed, and Charles watching for a sign, a signal. Pietro is the first to get grey-streaks in his hair; but whether that's a sign that he's turning back into a zombie or mutant, they can't tell yet.
They wait, together.