(A/N) Hello, all. Pleased as always that the story is being enjoyed.
Response to concrit ahead: Oh, no, by all means, please critique me. How else will I improve? I love your ideas; I don't think you need to worry too much, though. There will be more scenes between Charles and Emma. He's nowhere near completely broken. I had thought about what you said when I was writing, but what I was aiming for was that his reactions were caused more by being drugged than anything else. There is a reason for that, but maybe I didn't bring it across the right way. I also hadn't really meant strictly for Shaw to be comparing Charles to himself…more that he was playing on the fact that he was feeling guilty for leaving Erik hanging. Though, now that you mention it, I can certainly see working from that angle. Like I said, I love your ideas, and I hope you don't mind if I work with them. I know I haven't planned as well for this story as I have for some others, but I guess I'm rushing things a bit…trying to get out as much as I can before I run out of steam…as is wont to happen with stories begun on the fly, like this one was. I guess we'll see what happens. You're probably also right about the slang thing. I don't rightly know. Maybe I've just been watching a little too much Sherlock lately. Eheh.
The Key To My Heart
Chapter 4: Lock Me Up
Charles didn't know how long they had him sedated. After Emma's assault, he'd been vaguely aware of being put on an I.V. drip, but he had no way of knowing how much time went by after that. His existence was a stream of swirling nightmares and half-remembered realities…mostly of Emma probing about in his head, slowly picking apart his most personal thoughts. When he finally came out of the drug's grip, he found himself alone in the cell with Shaw.
"No Emma today?" he asked, his throat hoarse…from what? Lack of water? Screaming?
"She's away on…business today. I've brought someone else for you to meet," he said, stepping aside to reveal a person behind him.
It was a little girl. She couldn't have been more than eight. Her skin was tan and her hair was brown, but her eyes were by far the oddest thing about this child: They were red. The irises were a startling, bloody hue of red.
"Charles Xavier, might I introduce you to Pele? Seven years old and already a telepath on par with yourself and Emma."
"A telepath?" Charles mumbled, briefly trying to see into the girl's mind and finding himself blocked.
"Emma's taught her well. She can shield her mind completely," Shaw explained, guessing what he'd tried to do. "Hers is a different sort of telepathy, though…at least, she applies it differently."
"What do you mean?"
Smirking coldly, Shaw turned to the girl. "Pele…burn."
Turning her gaze from Shaw to Charles, she held up her hand, looked him in the eye, and said only, "Burn."
The next moment, Charles felt as if every nerve in his body had been set on fire. His body rolled from the cot to the floor, convulsing as he shrieked in agony…and as he lay there, burning, he felt nearly unfathomable rage, hate, and pain searing his very soul. Not his own, he realized…but Pele's.
He tried to call out to her, begging her to stop, but she was relentless…and he couldn't fight back against her; she was only a child, after all.
Charles didn't hear Shaw give Pele the command to stop, but he must have, because the screaming agony suddenly stopped, leaving him utterly drained. For a long while, he lay there, curled in on himself, trembling and drawing deep, shuddering breaths. When he was finally able to look up, he saw the girl standing over him. Weakly, he tried to reach out his hand to her.
"Pele…Pele…dear heart…is that your name?"
Pele's eyes flared briefly and Charles felt the burning again before Shaw placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Pele," he reprimanded, "a little restraint."
"What have you done to her?" Charles demanded, feeling tears flow from his eyes, not for his own pain, but for what Pele must have suffered.
"Did you think Erik was the only one, Charles? He was the one that got away. Little Pele is my latest project. I learned with Erik that you have to start when they're young. Pele came into my care when she was four."
Charles could only shudder to think how Pele might have 'come into his care.' "Shaw…Pele is a child…an innocent…child!"
"Erik was a child, too. Do you really think that stops me…especially with a gift as powerful as hers?"
"What is it…that she did?" Charles finally asked, gazing sorrowfully at Pele, who was staring openly at him.
"The illusion of pain," Shaw explained, gently stroking the girl's hair. "Nothing's actually happening to you. It's all in your mind."
"Brought Pele out today, I see," Emma's voice came from the cell door. Charles glanced over in time to see her close it. Then the diamond woman came to kneel before the girl, looking her directly in the eyes.
As they stared at each other, Charles realized he could feel the child's walls coming down. He skirted around the edges of her conscience, not daring to go all the way in for fear of being violently thrown back out. He certainly could have tried to control her in this moment of weakness, but he knew he could not. He couldn't do such a thing to this little girl who had already suffered so much pain…even if he suffered more for it in the end. What he could see, looking in now, was a baby whose mother had died in childbirth…and who had been coerced into killing her own father with her powers because he hadn't wanted Shaw to hurt his little girl. She had known nothing of love since then…and somehow, she'd survived. If there was a name other than Pele, it was buried deep…in a place he could not go.
"You poor girl," he whispered, silent tears streaming down his face.
"Shouldn't you be saving some of that pity for your Erik?" Emma asked as the girl's shields went back up.
Charles froze, his gaze darting to the woman's crystalline eyes.
"What have you done?"
No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than his psyche was awash with pain…not the burning kind Pele could induce, but emotional pain…Erik's pain.
Emma had shown him what they'd been doing to him…and every moment of his own agony had been given back to Erik twofold. He could feel Erik's own pain as his broken mind was poured into his. From moment to moment, they would both break anew, each fueled by the other's suffering.
"Nein!"
NO!
Charles let his head fall back to the floor, curling in on himself once more. He was physically and mentally exhausted…and all he could feel was the hurt he'd caused Erik.
My fault…my fault…all my fault. They'll never stop using us against each other…
You think this is pain? A new voice was suddenly in his head. Realizing it could only be one person, he stole a glance up at Pele. Her expression could only be described as contemptuous.
You do not know pain.
XxX
Raven, Beast, Havok, and Banshee had managed to evacuate Moira from the ruins of the Hellfire Club without too much trouble during the chaos following Erik's meltdown. Her friend, a Scotsman named Alisdair Kinross, who had flown them out in his plane, had tried to convince them to let him take her to a hospital, but Beast had insisted their facilities in New York were better than any doctor's. Besides, they all doubted Moira's ailment was something human medical science could deal with. So Kinross had flown them straight back to Westchester. He hadn't asked any further questions, only requested that they take care of her. So they'd gotten her back to the mansion and Beast had started working that same night.
"Her brainwaves are surging," Beast reported tensely to the others the next afternoon, having worked all through the night. "There's no sign of consciousness, but her brain's working overtime. Whatever it's up to, it's like it can't support any normal activity…just this one task."
"But what did Frost do to her?" Raven grated, still feeling horribly guilty for not being able to protect Moira when she'd been standing right there.
"I couldn't say with any certainty yet," Beast said, briefly going back through his notes. "But if I didn't know better, I'd say her brainwave patterns were starting to become similar to…the professor."
"You mean…she's mutating?" Raven asked, her eyes widening in shock.
"Frost can actually do that?" Havok asked, his mind clearly blown.
"I couldn't say," Beast repeated. "If that's what it is, it couldn't possibly be the ability to telepathically induce mutation at will. The mutation would already have to be present in the genetic code…just dormant…not yet manifested."
"So…she might have been a mutant…this whole time?" Banshee asked, glancing over at Moira, who was lying under a blanket on a diagnostic table with several sensors attached to her head.
"We won't know until she wakes up," Beast said, knowing they were all afraid that 'until' may well be 'unless.'
"You did good, Beast," Raven said after several minutes of silence. "You ought to go and get some sleep now."
"If she doesn't get a break, I don't get one," he said, standing up to head back to work.
Suddenly sick to death of everything falling apart around her, Raven decided to take charge, leaping up and grabbing Beast's shoulder.
"Hank, getting no sleep isn't going to help her. You'll only be at your best if you get some sleep. I know it feels like you're not doing anything, but they need us to be at our best, all of them: Moira, Charles…even Erik. Okay?"
"O-okay," Beast mumbled, looking at her like he'd never seen her before.
"Don't worry. I'll sit with her, and if anything changes, I'll let you know."
"All right," he said quietly before heading out of the lab, still not quite sure of what had happened. Raven, meanwhile, grabbed a chair and pulled it up beside Moira, sitting down. She sat in silence for a few minutes before turning to look at the other two boys.
"Well? Are you going to stare all day or are you going to make some lunch?"
"Uh…yeah…" Banshee murmured.
"Sure thing…" Havok finished. Neither boy was anymore certain of what change had just occurred than Beast was.
"Don't worry," Raven said to the comatose agent after the boys had gone. "I'll whip them into shape for when you get back. It's going to take all of us to get those two home."
XxX
He's standing in the office again. Expecting a memory, he looks down at his hands, but finds that they are the hands of a grown man…not a helpless child. When he looks up, it's Shaw he sees…not Schmidt…holding the gun. What's going on here?
"Now this is what we will do," he begins in perfect English. "I count to three, and you move the coin. If you do not move the coin, I'll pull the trigger. Do you understand?"
There's the coin, lying there on the desk…as it always has been…and always will be. He should be able to move it now; he's grown much stronger. Maybe he'll be able to make a difference this time? Casually, he holds up a hand to summon the coin to him…but it remains on the desk.
What is this? What's happening? All of his power…where is it? One little coin? It should be nothing…and yet it remains firmly on the desk…mocking him.
He tries harder…extends both hands. Still nothing.
"One."
No! It's going to happen again. He can't let it! He has to save his mother! Only…when he turns to look at her…as he did back then…it's not his mother standing there, held at gunpoint by the Nazis.
It's Charles.
His throat instantly goes dry as the horror builds in his chest. They're going to kill him, too! He can't let them. Not him…anyone but him.
Except…Charles doesn't seem frightened…not even worried. He smiles warmly at him.
"You can do it," he reassures him. His faith in him is absolute.
"Two."
Frantically, he turns back to the coin. Charles is right. He can do it. He must! He can't let Charles die!
And yet…for all his struggle to call the little scrap of metal to him…it remains in place. He's as helpless as he was when he was a child. He's going to lose him. He's going to lose him!
Please…God, please…move!
"It's all right," Charles says. "It's all right."
No! He can't say that. He mustn't say it! Erik knows what comes after that.
"Three."
He turns as the gun fires…sees the bullet strike him…he doesn't even cry out. He simply drops to the floor.
"Nein!"
The room fades away around him as he runs to the fallen man, quickly gathering him in his arms. Blood is leaking from between his lips, but he's somehow still breathing.
"It's all right," he whispers, smiling as he reaches up to stroke his hair.
"Bitte…Bitte…Charles…"
"I believe in you," he says as the light leaves his eyes.
"Nein! Ohne dich kann ich nicht leben!"
But it's too late. He's gone. Those blue eyes will never offer him their warmth…ever again. They're cold and empty.
I…I never told him…
"Nein!" Erik shouted, bolting awake from the nightmare in a cold sweat. Several of his fellow passengers were startled by the outburst, but when he gave no further indication that anything was amiss, they all went back to their own business.
Erik was aboard a tramp steamer outbound from San Francisco to Hong Kong. From there, he would hop another up to London and go from there.
Being on the run, he didn't have access to any of his usual funds or most of his contacts. With those options gone, this was really the only way to travel. As his status as a fugitive from justice could only hamper his search while he was still on U.S. soil, he'd decided it would be best to return to Europe to continue. If he needed to return later, he would, but for now, he needed to stay a few steps ahead of his pursuers. The only way to do this was as he'd done in the old days…with his guts and his powers.
The dream…the nightmare…he'd experienced it before. Remembering his mother's murder…of course he couldn't let it go…but to suddenly see Charles in place of his mother…what did that mean?
Are you really foolish enough to become so attached to something after that loss? He could hear Shaw's voice asking in his head. What happens to you if I kill him?
"I'll die," he whispered to himself. I'll kill your sorry ass…then I'll die. There would simply be no reason left to go on living.
But…was Charles really worth that? Was he worth hanging his existence…his very soul on?
That was when Erik realized it was far too late for that sort of thinking.
Absolutely…inescapably…he answered himself. He had seen how he viewed Charles through the man's own eyes. Emma hadn't given him only the bad from Charles' fragmented mind. She hadn't been able to keep back all the good that was there.
He'd seen himself smiling at Charles…on many different occasions. He'd never smiled…not since before the war…but Charles had worked and worked on him…given him cause to feel real happiness. He saw his face as Charles awoke the old memories in him…gave him back the things he'd thought lost…and he felt Charles' joy as he opened up.
He watched himself as they moved together on Charles' bed…feeling the intensity of their combined emotions…then the sudden fear…the confusion. He hadn't realized at the time how deeply he'd been hurt by Charles' uncertainty. That was why he'd been uncertain of his own feelings…because he'd been afraid of that pain. It wasn't that he didn't know how he felt; he knew, but he was terrified those feelings were not returned.
I need you…I need you in order to live…
He understood what that meant now. Charles…made him more than what he was…made him better. If this was not love, he didn't know what else could be. Losing Charles would not make him stronger, as Shaw hoped. In the end, it would only kill him. Perhaps he would burn brighter for an infinitesimal moment…like a star going super nova…but then he would collapse in on himself…bringing more destruction in his wake than a black hole.
But…maybe that was what Shaw wanted.
XxX
It was two days before Moira regained consciousness. Raven sat with her that entire time, allowing no one else to take her place. When the CIA agent awoke, it was to Raven's hand on her shoulder. Looking over, she saw the young woman asleep in a chair. Slowly, she reached up her own hand to touch the blue one on her shoulder. Raven instantly started awake.
"Moira?"
"Hey."
"My God, you had us all so worried. You've been out of it for a while. How are you feeling?" she asked, gripping Moira's hand.
"A little woozy, I guess. What…what did Frost do to me?" she asked, reaching up to try and feel the sensors on her head.
"We're not…really sure," Raven started slowly, not sure how to break the news to Moira. "Beast says your brainwave patterns are…similar to Charles' now."
"What…does that mean?" Moira asked, a suspicion slowly starting to grow in her eyes.
"Moira…we…think you might be a mutant."
For a moment, it didn't sink in. But then…
"But…how…" she struggled to get out, slowly sitting up. Several of the sensors fell away and Beast's machines began to beep incessantly.
"It doesn't always manifest right away. We think…Frost might have done it with her powers…telepathically stimulated the dormant code. Like I said, we're not sure. Maybe…if you're like Charles…you could try reading my mind," Raven suggested hesitantly.
"You would…let me do that?" Moira asked, knowing how uncomfortable she'd been with the thought of Charles reading her mind.
Raven nodded. "We have to know."
Shaking her head, unable to see how it was possible, Moira stared at Raven, concentrating on her forehead and feeling ridiculous. After a time, she shook her head again.
Nothing.
At this, Raven gasped.
"What?" Moira asked, confused.
"I…I heard that. You just said 'nothing'."
"I…did," Moira murmured, her hands dropping weakly to her sides. "What…what is this?"
"Maybe…maybe it's some sort of low-level telepathy?"
Not really sure what to say, Moira suddenly got the strangest image in her head: Beast standing over a stove flipping pancakes.
"Beast is going to make pancakes," she said automatically.
Raven blinked several times, not quite sure she'd heard right. "Say what?"
Before Moira could even try to explain herself, Havok walked into the lab.
"Hey, Moira!" he said, stopping short. "You're awake. You okay?"
"I'm…surviving," she replied.
"That's good. Beast'll probably want to run some tests. I was just coming to tell Mystique he's going to make pancakes if you guys want some."
At this, both women turned to stare at each other in shock.
What did this mean?
XxX
(A/N) Still workin' for ya? Again, I've got a few notes. If I've done my job right, the words Erik was saying earlier were, 'Please…please…' and 'I can't live without you.'
On the subject of Emma and Moira...yeah, Emma Frost has apparently been known to do that. Interesting, ne?
As for my little OC, I have no idea if there's really a mutant called Pele, or if anyone has a power like hers, but if anybody else knows, feel free to enlighten me. I guess I just didn't really think Shaw would stop with Erik.