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Chapter 2: Safe Now

When Charles awoke, the furry blue doctor from before was hovering over him. He reminded Charles of a teddy bear, and Charles couldn't help smiling—that so delightful a creature even existed filled Charles with elated wonder.

He'd always wanted to meet other mutants, others who, like himself, were different. He'd known they existed, of course; but actually meeting some face to face suddenly made him realize how very alone he'd felt all his life. He wondered if the glimpses he remembered of a red-skinned mutant with a tail had been a dream or if he'd soon be meeting him properly as well. "I'm Charles Xavier," he said, giving the mutant doctor a bright smile as he sat up and offered his hand to shake. "Sorry for not introducing myself when we first met; I wasn't feeling well."

"Yes, that's understandable." The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose with one thick finger of his other hand while accepting the handshake. Charles found the fur on the back of his hand to be delightfully soft. "I'm Hank McCoy, or 'Beast' if you'd prefer."

Releasing his hand before he could start petting him like a cat, Charles asked, "Which do you prefer?"

Beast shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I like Hank well enough and it's what I've been called for most of my life. But Beast suits me better now, I guess."

Without the full use of his powers, Charles was unable to sense even the other mutant's emotions while he spoke, and he found he was disconcertingly lost without that sense. Did he really have no preference for what he was called? Charles didn't want to accidentally offend him by calling him the wrong name. Perhaps empathy could have been included in his allowed powers if he'd thought to ask for it. But this must be the sort of thing all non-telepaths had to deal with every day, and they generally seemed to get by. Hoping he was guessing right, Charles finally said, "I suppose I'll call you Hank then."

Hank nodded and Charles found himself foolishly wishing once more for his power to read emotions or even surface thoughts. Yes, it had often been quite difficult, even exhausting, to maintain shields against the unwanted deluge of everything from everyone's minds, but being able to choose when to use his power rather than being entirely prevented from using it... But there was no point dwelling on what might have been. He was better off now than he had been. And the incision barely even itched anymore—he had been wise to follow the doctors' advice and not touch it.

Hank got him a glass of apple juice and a cheese sandwich from a small refrigerator and showed him where the lab's bathroom was, even providing him with a toothbrush and toothpaste.

When Charles was eating, Hank picked up a clipboard from a nearby desk and gave Charles an apologetic look. "I need to ask you a few questions. The answers will help me be able to effectively treat you, but if any question makes you uncomfortable or you would just prefer not to answer, we can skip it. Are you comfortable answering some questions now?"

Charles nodded, taking a sip of the juice. It felt wonderfully cold and was the perfect sweetness.

Hank pulled a pen from under the clip and poised it above the paper. "How old are you, Charles?"

"I'm nineteen." He told Hank his birthday in case he needed to write that down too.

"To your knowledge, were either of your parents mutants?"

"No; neither of my parents were mutants."

Hank wrote on the paper. "Do you have any siblings?"

"I had a twin brother, but he was born with no higher brain functions." Charles avoided thinking about his brother and what Kurt had said about that. Everyone was safe now, anyway; the chip saw to that. "I also have a step-brother, but I assume you meant blood-related siblings."

"I did." Hank looked thoughtful as the pen scratched over the paper. "To your knowledge, do you have any blood relations who are mutants?"

"No." Charles took a bite of the sandwich, chewed and swallowed, then smiled a bit self-consciously and said, "Before this, I hadn't met any mutants at all."

Hank smiled a small, soft smile. "Well, you're among friends now."

"Speaking of friends," Charles suddenly remembered and gestured to the cape where it lay draped across his pillow, "I should probably give Erik his cape back."

"Yes, and I'm sure he'll want to see you now that you're feeling better." Hank rubbed at his nose. "He'll likely have some questions for you too."

"Questions, of course." Charles gestured to the clipboard. "Please, continue."

Hank nodded. "When did your mutation first manifest?"

Charles bit his lip. "I'm not entirely sure. It was when I was very young. They—they told me it was possible it had manifested b-before birth." Charles twisted a corner of the blanket between his fingers, staring at the edge of his plate. "I don't have any memory of before it did, at any rate."

"How long ago did you have the surgery?"

"Five days. I think." Time had been somewhat confused in that place, especially right after the surgery when he was still just waking up.

"And have you noticed any side effects? Anything unexpected?"

Charles shook his head. "No." He paused in thought then added, "Well, I have seemed to be more sleepy than usual, and every so often I get a little dizzy, but that's all probably very much expected."

Hank nodded, a small frown wrinkling his brow. Sliding the pen back under the clip, he set the paperwork aside. "I would like to take a sample of your blood for testing if that's all right."

"Of course." Charles had become relatively used to blood tests at this point. He was somewhat surprised at Hank's suggestion that he had a choice in the matter, since that was something he wasn't quite used to.

As Hank was readying the needle, the rubber strap pinching Charles' arm slightly where it wrapped his bicep, another person walked into the room. He was tall with dark skin and short curly black hair. "Oh hey, you're awake," he said, giving Charles a broad, friendly smile. "I'm Darwin, by the way. I'd, uh, shake your hand, but I don't want to get in the way of the doctor there."

Charles returned his smile. He wondered if Darwin was a mutant as well—a mutant like him who appeared outwardly human—but felt it would be quite rude to ask. "Charles Xavier, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Darwin."

"Darwin," Hank said, his eyes focused intently on his work. "If you could be so kind as to inform Magneto that our guest is awake, I'm sure he would be most appreciative."

"Sure; whatever I can do to help." Darwin turned as if to leave, then stopped. "I'm supposed to ask if you—if either of you—need anything."

"Five billion dollars, a weekend at a high-end spa, and the complete restored contents of the Library of Alexandria," Hank said conversationally, then lifted his head to give Darwin a wry smile, his eyes twinkling. "Just Magneto for now, thank you."

Darwin nodded. "Yeah, but you know, books, right—I'll keep my eyes open for any of those, especially the old ones you like so much." He grinned then shook his head. "Can't do much about the spa thing though, man; they don't even let me in unless I want to fold towels for a dollar an hour. Maybe one day we'll build our own spa."

"Maybe one day," Hank agreed, as he bent back to the task of drawing blood.

Turning his attention to Charles, Darwin asked, "You need anything, Charles?"

The Library of Alexandria sounded good to Charles as well, but other than that he couldn't think of a thing. "No, but thank you."

When Hank finally pulled the needle back out of Charles' arm, it hurt worse than it had going in. That was how it usually went, though, so Charles didn't comment. He just obediently pressed the cotton ball over the spot as Hank instructed. For someone with rather impressive claws at the end of each finger, Hank was surprisingly gentle—actually, Hank was just gentle, compared to anyone. Charles didn't think he'd ever had any sort of medical professional treat him as kindly as Hank did. Perhaps that said more about the medical practice as a whole than it did about one fascinatingly unique mutant doctor.

Charles had a small band-aid over the spot where the needle had pierced his skin and was folding Magneto's cape in his lap when Magneto himself walked in.

"Erik!" Charles smiled brightly, sliding off the bed and holding the folded cape out in both hands. "Thank you so much for letting me borrow this. It really is a lovely cape."

Erik's lips turned up at one side as he accepted the cape, shaking it out and then fastening it around his own shoulders.

"It does suit you, truly," Charles said, apparently unable to stop himself from blurting out his thoughts. "When I was a child, I used to love to pretend I was a knight or a ranger from a storybook—they always seemed to wear capes, and they looked so dashing. But no one ever seems to wear them anymore. I mean, other than you, of course."

But Erik didn't seem to mind Charles' impassioned outburst, simply smiling a small indulgent smile in response. Turning to Hank, he said, "Beast, Darwin tells me you have need of the great, lost Library of Alexandria. I'm afraid such miracles are beyond even me."

"A pity," Hank said, looking up from his microscope and sighing theatrically.

"But we could always start our own library here," Erik offered, "this being a more or less secure location and unlikely to be overrun by any barbarian hordes any time soon."

"An idea with merit." Hank smiled, nodding thoughtfully.

Erik's face became more sombre. "Do you need Charles to stay in the lab any longer?"

"No, I do not." Hank bent over his microscope, turning a dial on the side to adjust the focus. "I will need to talk to him again of course, and once I figure out how to deactivate or remove the device, it would be best to do that here, but for now, he's free to go."

"Wait," Charles cut in, suddenly anxious. "What do you mean, 'deactivate or remove'?"

Hank gave him a strange look. "The mutation-suppressing device they put in your head. We have to undo the damage they've done."

Charles shook his head. "No, no, there's been a misunderstanding. Please don't—don't try to remove it or—or deactivate it."

Erik's fingers wrapped around Charles' upper arm. They felt warm and reassuring. "Charles, they've crippled your power. This is a worse violation than collars or mutation-suppressing drugs."

"No." Tears stung Charles' eyes and he stubbornly blinked them away. "It's absolutely better than the drugs."

Hank and Erik exchanged a worried look.

"The drugs wear off," Erik said carefully.

"Not—not when you have to keep taking them," Charles countered.

Erik frowned. "Who made you take the drugs, Charles?"

Charles shook his head, his heart painfully hammering in his chest as he pulled away and stepped backwards until he bumped into the bed. "They were frightened. And with good reason! I'm—I'm dangerous. I never meant—I would never knowingly hurt anyone, but I could—no one should have that much power. It's better—better for everyone this way."

Exhaling, Erik shook his head. "We all learn to control our powers, Charles; we don't need some human scientist to impose a muzzle on us."

"I do," Charles insisted, raising his chin defiantly. "I need it. And they didn't 'impose' anything; I agreed to this. I t-told them yes." God, he hated it when he stuttered. It made him sound weak, and he didn't remember having done it before quite recently. Realizing his teeth were chattering, Charles clenched his jaw to try to stop them, hugging his arms around himself as he suddenly felt quite cold.

"Charles," Hank said, stepping forward. "I'm not going to do anything to you that you don't want. But I couldn't remove the device right now even if you asked me to."

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated breath. "Of course we're not going to force you, Charles. And we don't have to decide anything right now either." He took a step towards Charles, spreading his hands at his sides. "Let us give you some better clothes and a more private place to sleep. And you need to understand you're not a prisoner here; if you want to leave, if you want to go back home—"

"No!" Charles said, much too quickly, much too sharply. His heart was painfully hammering anew in his chest. He wanted to stay, to get to know these mutants, and there was nothing at home for him anyway—just a distant, disinterested mother and a step-father who... A step-father who... "He was afraid," Charles said quietly, his voice cracking. "So very afraid. He had to—had to protect his son." Gasping, Charles screamed, "It wasn't wrong!"

Erik gently put his hand on Charles' upper arm and said softly, "What did he do, Charles?"

Charles shook his head, hot tears spilling down his face. "He g-gave me the drugs while I was asleep." He was trembling so violently now he could barely stand, but then Erik was holding him and everything felt so much better. He pressed himself against Erik's chest, and sobbed. He would only cry for a little while, and Kurt wasn't here to see. Erik might not understand about the chip in his head, but he was kind; he'd let Charles out of that room when all the doctors had left him there alone and he'd taken care of him when he was ill.

Erik was rubbing soothing circles on his back, his voice soft as he said, "Oh, Charles. It's going to be okay; you're safe now."

It was going to be okay; Charles couldn't hurt anyone anymore, so no one would ever need to drug him again. Not like that, never again.

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A/N: This fanfic is roughly set in 1960, but keep in mind that it's an alternate 1960, unique from both our own history's timeline and any canon Marvel timeline. I have not made any of the characters the ages they 'should' be in 1960, nor will all the technology (mutation-suppression devices, for example), etc fit with what should exist in 1960. I'm telling a story here; not writing a history book. ;)

Notes on characters and canon:

P. Xavier is Charles Xavier's brain-dead identical twin brother, appearing in 'X-Men: The Last Stand'. This is of course the twin brother Charles references here.

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