Author's Note: Wow, so many reviews on my first chapter! I love you people. Seriously. I hope not to disappoint with my second chapter. Please, give me your reviews; It keeps me coming back to write.

All errors, mistakes and problems are my own. Please excuse them.

I do not own X-Men: First Class or any of the characters in this fanfiction.

Charles' eyes set upon the large figure of his -their- mansion and he searched the magnificent building as though the reasoning for them being there would be written upon its walls. He looked to Erik, questions and confusion evident in his shining blue eyes. His arm was giving him an awkward sense of balance, raised by Erik's strong grip. "The mansion?" He finally voiced his surprise.

"I understand you have things you might want to pack. I won't let you go completely unprepared." Erik said, his eyes locked onto the building, squinting slightly in the sun. He seemed so calm concentrating; Quite a normal expression for Erik. They'd stood here before during times of training and conversation, in the sun and fresh air. Although now it seemed distant, a parallel world of memories where things had been more hopeful. Everything was different since then, and yet nothing had changed about this place. It was disorientating.

The other mutants, the ones following Erik's strong lead stood behind the two, waiting and watching. Azazel shifted on his feet, giving a quick glance around but otherwise they seemed to fade into the background.

Charles hissed for a split second, immediately looking to the white knuckled fingers of the hand around his arm. He could feel his skin bruising under the hold. It wasn't like Erik to become so physical with him. He didn't have much time to react though, because Erik strode forward and Charles could only stumble his first few steps. His heels dragged, scraping his shoes along the ground, but it didn't slow Erik's powerful move. So Charles took to talking, "Erik, let go. You're hurting me."

This seemed quicken the strides, if anything. Erik continued to lead him towards the mansion and in a voice that was powerful, strong and able he said, "You're quite powerless now, aren't you Charles? You have no control when you cannot reach my mind." It also sounded bitter and proud. As if to say, "Yes Charles, I can reduce you to this. I can and I will."

The telepath swallowed, trying not to digest the words too painfully. His heartbeat skipped when Erik threw open the doors, and they listened and waited through the echo of the bang before Charles tried to reason, "You're only upset, we can talk this through, we can work it all out. You don't mean what you say." Please, Erik-

"No!" And the word was quickly accompanied by Erik whipping around to face Charles. The fury in those familiar blue orbs startled the telepath enough to flinch from surprise, his breath catching in his throat. Erik's anger, his manic rage flared behind his expression, rearing it's flaming head. But it quickly slunk back out of sight when Erik sighed out, "No. Charles, that's where you've been wrong. I mean exactly what I say."

"Erik, you're letting your anger take over you-" Charles began again, determined to see and talk to the Erik that had once pushed himself into a state between rage and serenity, the Erik that had become his closest friend. The walk up the stairs was difficult and awkward, but nonetheless impossible to avoid. Charles knew he should immediately contact his team, tell them where he was. But he didn't, and he wouldn't. At least not yet, not until he had been able to truly talk with Erik.

Erik's aggressive words overpowered Charles hopeful, pleading ones. "I'm finally realizing what I needed to do. This is a war we could win, Charles. I need you by my side, you have to understand." And in the possibility that Charles had never once pondered, Erik seemed to be pleading as well. Pleading for Charles to accept his offer to stay by his side, to accept the metal bender's view on the world. He led the telepath into a familiar room, a room full of their time and memories; The study which they'd played so many lingering games of chess in. The lights flicked on and the yellow glow of the lamps greeted Charles worried brow. Erik finally released his arm saying, "You don't belong to the humans, to the lesser race."

Charles hand found the sore, throbbing spot shaped of Erik's hand. He tenderly covered it with his hand, quite aware of the bruise that was going to form. "But we can make a place that coexists with humans, we don't have to fight."

Erik turned to stare at him, standing by his chair, one hand on the wooden lining. The same accusation Charles had heard some times before came roaring back. "You're naive. You've always been naive, blindly following the notion that most humans solely exist being good and doing good and making good things." And at that, Erik's brow creased heavily, his body stiffening with anger and impressive energy. His voice soared, growing fierce, "You are ignoring all the signs, Charles! You are ignoring reality! Well, reality has caught up to you! What do you say to that?" His voice ended with a harsh snap, blue eyes ablaze with a sick yellow light in the room.

Charles frowned, his hand lingering over his pulsing limb. For a moment, he could say absolutely nothing, no words coming to form in his chest. The talk of reality reminded him painfully of Raven, who they'd both left on the beach. She had talked to him of being naive, of being unaware of his unrealistic ideas. The two most important people in his life, both arguing against his truth, against his vision. Finally, he said, hushed, "I don't understand, my friend." At his label, his voice hesitated and his eyes dipped to the floor.

"I'll make you understand...friend." The last word lingered on Eriks' tongue, dancing in Charles mind. It was foreign to hear such a word from the metal bender and it brought Charles' eyes flicking right back up. "I don't want to do this without you. I won't do this without you." Erik stared right back, keeping tight hold of Charles' gaze.

"Erik, we can work this through-" Another try, Charles pushed. He was just as persistent, just as willing. And he was just as torn. He stood near his chair, both separated by what seemed like a sea of thoughts. This was also just the parallel of a distant time that was a talk about peace and revenge. It felt just as far away and just as painful.

"No, you aren't listening!" Erik snapped, quieting Charles who watched, searched in startled silence. "I need you, Charles." Erik's eyes were piercing, vibrant, full of power and confidence and struggle and they shocked Charles. The helmet came off as quick and as punctuating as his confession which was loud and echoing across the walls. It was so strong and heavy, just like the sudden grip on Charles' upper arms. Maybe Erik thought he was going to run if he didn't hold firm because those able fingers tightened. If I don't hold onto him, I'll lose him. If I let go, I'll regret it forever. And then it was gone, just like a flash.

And Charles was brought back into actuality, so blindly gripped by Erik's sudden open thoughts that he felt strange without the familiar presence. His eyes, questioning and slow, worked their way up to see Erik's sharp stare. And he knew the feeling that Erik had been feeling, because he felt it too. "I need you too, my friend." Charles said slowly, unsure of how Erik had missed that simple fact.

An emotion glimmered in those eyes Charles had come to know. A push in his head, a wonderful, cordial presence touched his reach, as though they were intertwining their fingers once more. Charles, Charles, Charles. The name resounded in Charles mind, over and over, filled with a brilliance of emotion. Just like the flash before his eyes. A well of affection for his closest friend swelled in his chest and he wanted to smile and reassure his desperate friend. Instead he was caught off guard by a firm grip around him, Erik's arms holding him, and only managed to say one word, but one meaningful word, passing through his mind to the other's.

Erik.