AN: A few time-skips (Er, only two, I think haha) We finally see what's happening to Erik, A little interesting happening and things go south for the Boy with the heavens in his eyes

Things get... a bit dark. (5:50pm )Err... well we decided to split this chapter into two (VEERRRY LONG) and I don't want too many time skips :I (Now: where are our cookies! XD)


His eyes are blurry with sleep as the groggy little six year old tries to awaken from a dreamless slumber. His stoney hazel eyes scan the chipped and peeling ceiling along the small stars and he attempts to wipe the sleepy-vision with his palm. Erik grumbles something to himself as he sits up, shaking his head and blinking the urge to lay back and snooze away the rest of the evening that is left.

There's loud clamoring somewhere down the hall; Erik briefly remembers why he's woken up. A loud slam reverberates within the walls and Erik feels a slight panic begin to weight down on his small body. He swallows thickly and looks around, finds his old shoes and slips them on his feet. He's up and out the door in a slight scramble ion less than a second and in the hall in another.

A silhouette forms in the near-cavernous hallway (or perhaps his young minds finds that the few feet of hallway are too much when in a panic) and covers the light from the doorway. Erik comes to a halt and swallows thickly, feels the knots in his stomach tighten to unbearable lengths and-

It's his mom.

Only, her hair isn't in it's usual tidy bun, it's loose and falling on her shoulders like pitch-shadowed hands clawing on her shoulders in tangles, her calm and comforting emerald gaze have been replaced by a clouded, frantic chartreuse and she looks like she's been crying and despite the loud noises and the hectic appearance of his mother the tears are all that Erik can focus on.

Somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen the drawers begin to rattle, the pots and pans begin the shake and titter without reason.

"Max, darling," She begins, temporarily forgetting her own rule and Erik flinches as she turns and swallows, only to look back at her young son with tears sliding down her cheeks," Go-go to my room honey and stay real, real quite."

A spoon bends in the drawer.

A pot flattens into a paper thin sheet of metal.

"Mommy?" Erik asks, his voice cracking. He gets closer only to have his mother turn her back on him, fist clenching the doorway tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"M-Max..." Is her almost silent whisper.

He remembers; remembers the time when Max was his name until his momma told him that he could be Erik, and not Max anymore. Like the people that would taunt and tease him for having no father, that would call him a freak and a bastard, there were bad, bad people looking for them both. If he wasn't Max then they would be safer.

But she just calmed him Max.

"Go to my room" She whispers, leaning on the wall and sagging against it. "Stay quite. Stay Safe."

Erik opens the door and walks slowly into the bedroom, his eyes blurring. He sniffs and closes his eyes, willing him to be strong. If not for himself then for the mother that raised him alone. Still, teh fear and panic gnaws at his insides relentlessly, and the six year old, astute as he is, finds himself thinking that he's going to end up going against his mother's wishes.

The door shuts completely on it's own as the young boy sits against the corner, convincing himself that the warmth on his cheeks aren't tears and that the emptiness he feels in his heart and the led that has sunk in his stomach aren't foreboding omens.

Erik was never a good liar.


The man is leaning against a high balcony, windows open and curtains billowing in the icy breeze. The moon hangs low tonight, a dim glow behind ashen clouds. There's the faint rustling of leaves. It's chilly outside, almost freezing, and not even breathing hot air onto his own hands are making them any less numb. The wind is howling, like the lone wolf, and it's gripping at his arms, biting into his skin with its chill, making him shiver constantly.

A noise startles Brian Xavier from his spiraling thoughts, and he instantly recognizes it as footsteps.

He doesn't flinch at the sight of the tall, sleek and elegant silhouette of a woman in ancient garbs in the doorway. The cigarette in his hand is raised to his lips, the rush of nicotine he inhales helps to soothe the nerves, calm his mind and anchor him. The smoke dances before his eyes before drifting away, becoming one with the night sky.

"You know who I am." The woman speaks softly, her voice carried by the wind.

"Yes, I know as much," Brian responds, dropping the butt and snuffing out the dying embers with the heel of his polished shoe. "Goddess of wisdom, Athena, If I am not mistaken."

"Not many still believe in the old ways"

The silence between them thickens; the wind blows a little harder now. Lips quirk at one end into an almost-smile.

"Not many have faith at all" He sighs and the heat of his breath leaves another kind of signature; the mist fades quicker than the smoke he exhaled. 'Death fades much slower than life' he thinks bitterly. "Why have you come?"

A smile graces the goddess' lips.


There's silence; deafening silence that seems much, much worse than whatever noise could be spreading through the small house. Erik finds himself more perturbed by the almost ringing silence than anything else. He keeps his eyes shut and his face against his knees, hands coming around to cover his ears. The tears haven't stopped, and his throat is so tight it almost hurts, his heart is beating so loudly he's afraid his mom can hear it in the hallway and his fear keeps spiking despite futile efforts to remain calm.

The metal bed rails shiver; the light fixture flickers on and off.

Then it shatters; the overbearing silence is at once missed at the high pitched wails that crashes into Erik's mind, strangled, startled and painful.

The light bulb snaps; the drawer in the nightstand is tossed open and Erik is on his feet, rushing to the door in rage, anger, fear, fury, horror and-and-

Someone made his momma cry.

Someone hurt the only family he has.

He can't see straight with the veil of anger and hurt and fear that is curtaining the more rational (or as rational as a six year old could possibly think) that's clouding his mind and Erik hardly registers tripping over his own feet as he shuffles out the door nor the fact that the door in question opened on it's own volition.

There are two men, one beside his mother in the living room and another standing perhaps a few feet before them. They're tall, only scant millimeters away from scraping the room with their ridiculous golden helmets. The one beside his mother stood with one leg forward, a round, red and embellished with strange, foreign character he had only begun to learn about in school. The man's jaw was set, his eyes cold as they glared daggers at the other man.


Brian is standing before the incubator- a small box of thin, clear glass, with wires and tubes flitting in and out of the container. There was a hissing-whirling sound, low and muffled, as iron lungs pumped breath in and out of the infant within the clear, protective clutches. Brian's eyes remain shut, almost afraid to see the peaceful, calm expression on his son's dying face.

Charles: six months old with less than a 5% chance of surviving whatever it is that plagues his form.

Charles, who hasn't breathed on his own volition, who hasn't opened his eyes to the world outside and hasn't stirred since birth.

A hand gently presses against the glass; the goddess smiles as she releases a breath of air. "He will survive, he will live." She speaks calmly, and closes her eyes at the sound of the man's shaky exhale. her hand lingers for another second against the clear barrier before dropping to her side. Behind her cloak, her arm shakes and her mind races with the question she has to ask.

"What have you there?" Brian asks, sending Athena an almost wary glance. She's completely calm and composed on the outside but within she is in turmoil. Finally, after a moment of silence and machines working, she speaks.

"I have to ask you, for the sake of my brother Apollo and the other gods that sit in the heavens and watch down upon the world; I beseech you to please play caretaker to the daughter of a god and a mystical being" Athena bows and moves her cloak, revealing the blue baby that she cradles against her chest. "She is special, and I beg of you to hide her from the darkness of the world, and protect her innocence. This is a request, that you may chose to deny or accept."

Brian smiles at this.

"Who am I to refuse?"


The second man was just as tall and lean as the other, minus the bronze-gold armor. His robes where dark and ashen, his eyes a cold, ice blue. Just the set of his shoulders, the position of his feet and the stoic mask above the bubbling madness-the cynical glee made Erik want to shrink back and hide in his corner.

The man was the devil incarnate.

Sin in the flesh.

Personified evil.

Erik suddenly found himself reevaluating all those whispered tales of the boogeyman as he shivers and freezes in fear, unable to take a step forward or a step back. The silence is nearly smoldering, and Erik finds entranced by the suffocating quite that is all around them. His lips tremble, his body quivers and finally he blinks.

A tear falls.


He's crying, really crying and the sound makes Brian's heart flutter. The machine has stopped, and the various fluids no longer circulate through the tubes. They're programmed to stop once the baby's level are healthy and they have done just that. Brian's eyes tear up as he places a hand against the glass longingly.

His Charles, alive and well...

Little Raven stirs in her sleep but doesn't awaken from her slumber. Brian's heart fills with joy; he nearly lost his son, and now he's alive and has gained another life. It seems surreal, and in all honesty he hopes he hasn't fabricated the entire turn of events but the wailing doesn't stop and the bundle in his arms are as warm and alive as himself.

Charles' eyes open and the crying stops, reduced to small whimpers and sobs. The tears in his eyes haven't fallen but cling desperately to small lashes and Brian's heart melts at those clear, blue eyes.


The armored man raises his shield, steps forward and wraps his free arm around his mother. There's a sharp gust of wind,a cold chill like a crushing, arctic wave has drowned his whole body in it's depth.

He's falling, falling and the darkness seems to consume him.

The boogeyman smirks as his small body collapses in the bitter frost. His eyes gleam, a smile that's too sadistic, too wide stretches past the man's lips. He hears a harsh voice speak, whispering in his ears and he's lost to it all.

"You, my dear boy, are coming with me" A small chuckle follows, "and we're going to have fun until they give me what I want. Too bad she didn't tell that stupid idiot that she's had a child. "

Erik wants to cry for his mommy, but his mouth doesn't open.

He wants to cry but his eyes stay shut.

He wants this nightmare to be over, but it's only begun.


...xXx...Six Years Later...xXx...


He breaths in slowly, letting the air rush through his body and fill his lungs and cool his body and mind. He feels a soft touch against his elbow and cracks an eye open to gaze at the small form standing beside him. Raven's blue eyes capture his, pink lips curled into a comforting smile. Charles relaxes at her presence and nods, but he doesn't move from his place. Raven's pale complexion begins to darken and the scales on her shoulders and face begin to reveal themselves. She sends Charles a playful glare as her eyes slowly morph from blue to green and finally their original yellow hues.

"Charlie, do it." She commands, jutting her hip, bending her arm and placing her hands on her hips with a pout on her lips. 'You promised.' She thinks, slowly shifting back to her blonde haired and blue eyed form.

'I know, Raven, I know' Charles' voice replies in her mind, gentle and forlorn. Raven sighs and grabs hold of his hand in her's (She finds immense pleasure in teasing her brother with the fact that she's taller than him already, but keeps those remarks to herself for the moment) and together they step forward and open the grand maple doors. There's a gentle nudging in her mind and Raven rolls her eyes and allows the connection to form tentatively between the two. Charles, as they have both learned, connects to her mind when faced with extreme emotions, she helps center and calm his mind. She smiles at him as, together, they walk up to the wooden desk.

"Papa Brian," Raven speaks up in a fake, sweet voice. A head peaks out from behind a mountain of papers and grins at the sight of the two young ones.

"Come around, speak to me. What is it?" Brian asks, turning in his leather chair. Raven practically drags Charles across the desk with her, and the young girl is huffing by the time they face their 'father'.

"Charles has something he would like to say to you." Raven begins and takes a step back, giving her brother the spotlight. Charles is in a slight panic by now,from what Raven can feel, and the silence in the room continues to grow. Their father looks slightly bemused as he looks between the two siblings. "Charles..." comes Raven's voice anew, a threat underlying the sweet tone. A wave of comfort passed between the two and Charles felt the distinct pressure of a hand on his shoulder.

"I-I...I have, ah, b-been hearing some things and it's-it is umm..." Charles mumbles, cheeks flaring with blush. His hand raises to comb through his wavy brown hair, a finger brushing against a curl on his forehead (Raven knows that it's a nervous habit, and she waits for the breathless laugh any moment now). "Ahh, m-maybe it'd be b-better If I...just show you?" Charles' voice trails off and he frowns, presses a finger against his temple and scrunches his face.

"I can hear people." Charles says, only his lips do not move. "I can hear what they think and-and talk to them...like this."

A terse silence spreads and Charles' hand drops, his eyes close and he let's out a shuddering breath. The hand holding his tightens and Charles feels the pinprick of tears under his closed lids. "Charles, if you can hear me then why are you so shaken? You should know that I will never disown you. Your powers, your sister's, they're blessings from the gods. You two are my little blessings." The strong but comforting voice fills Charles' mind and despite all that he's said the tears start to fall.

He's just that happy.

The next few moments are a blur of tears and smiles and Raven giggling but soon enough they're in Charles' room, laying on the carpet with a blanket covering their feet. Charles is pointing at the little stars he painted on his ceiling and Raven is following his finger with sleep-hooded eyes. Charles laughs and shuffles about, moving the blanket to cover her body. Raven quickly falls asleep, but Charles stays up.

He's been feeling it for a long time now, and Charles doesn't think he can chalk it down to his 'gift'. It's like another person, another set of thoughts and feelings bubbling in his mind. It's almost like a calm insanity, and Charles is afraid.

They're burning his hands with heated metal rods. The skin is blistering but not bleeding, and the pain is stinging, causing half-restrained shouts of pain to wrench out of his mouth. The pain recedes past his shoulders down to a low thrumming pain, but his hands-oh god he can't even try to look at them because seeing them will make the pain worse. His throat is raw with the hours of screaming and he can't tell how long it's been going on-oh god, how long has he been here, been tortured and he can't think at the pain in his hand intensifies and the metal rod is shifting through his blistered palm.

Charles can't stop crying as the pain grows and grows; fear and panic along with anger bubble beneath his chest and he's powerless to stop the flood of emotions and pain that race through him. His teeth are biting down on his lip, drawing the tang of blood but he's numb to it all. All he can feel is this alien pain and emotions that threaten to take over.

Raven is gasping beside him, sweating and whining in her sleep. Charles shuffles away, trying to get far on his hands and knees but the pain wracking through his body is almost crippling. he gasps in pain and falls, his face pressing against his arms and his limbs shaking. He's crying and each tear adds another level of pain, of disgust and Charles wants it to stop, he wants the pain to end but it doesn't and he can't bear it, he can't continue and the words falling from his trembling lips are not his own, he can't even understand the language but he can't control himself, he just can't stop-

"Helfen Sie mir! Bitte, jemand ... Mama, bitte ... komm zurück für mich ... BITTE! Jeder!" Charles is gasping and he cries a little harder because, although he doesn't know the language, he knows what hes saying. "Help me! Please, someone...mom, please...come back for me...PLEASE! Anybody!"

Charles cries harder because he can't stop them from feeling the pain.

He cries harder because he knows that no one is coming.

Charles can't even pin-point where the pain is coming from-it's everywhere. The room is blurring and darkening in and out of focus, but there's something warm around him, someone familiar and it's anchoring his mind and fighting of the waves of pain\disgust\despair that's throttling his little body and mind.

Raven is speaking something in his ear, her voice is breathless and frightened and all Charles captures are snippets of what she's whispering in his hair.

"Saw it...him, the man in black...has him...pain, so much...crying...saw it...Charles...stop the pain... Erik, ErikErikErikErik-saw it saw it saw it please...help, someone...saw him saw him saw him..."

They hold each other, crying and tired and confused, until they can't think, they can't feel and somewhere in-between the tears and whispers they fall into a dreamless sleep.