Almost immediately, Hank grabbed the doorframe, whispering a stream of curses that were lost in the wind as the car roared out of DC.
"I don't know why you're so fussed, Hank. I mean, you test-fly a stealth plane every time we go to the warehouse. You'd think-" he said, turning back to face Hank.
"Keep your eyes on the damn road!" Hank spat.
Alex rolled his eyes and looked forward. "Erik'll catch us if I mess up, right Erik?" He called to the backseat.
Erik laughed. "You best hope I do," he called back.
"Any chance of putting the hood up?" Infant-Raven yelled.
"No!" Alex shouted, cackling as they increased speed.
The wind whipped around them like a blizzard, minus the snow and ice.
Damn. Even through his coat, designed for the Russian winter, Charles felt as if he were being impaled my needles made of ice.
About ten minutes later, they burst out onto the highway. They'd left the buildings far behind, meaning that there was nothing to shield them from the frigid air.
Emma grabbed Alex's shoulder. "If you don't stop right now and put the hood up," she yelled over the rush of wind, "I will make you!"
"I can't hear you over this wind!" Alex shouted back, increasing their speed, "What did you say?"
Emma let out a stream of curses, most of which were lost in the wind.
Charles, whose teeth were beginning to chatter, looked up at the sky, which had shifted from a startling blue to a thick and impenetrable grey.
A snowflake landed on his cheek. Charles' face was so cold that it took several seconds for the flake to begin melting.
It was so cold that Charles could barely feel his legs.
Slowly, he wormed his way into Alex's mind. He suggested a small idea, a whisper even. This car ride was going to be four hours long, after all. Then he drew Alex's attention to Emma. Did Alex want to listen to her bickering for four hours?
Charles pulled most of his thoughts away from Alex, waiting for his suggestions to take affect.
Emma opened her mouth to deliver another stream of verbal abuse, but before she could, Alex jerked the steering wheel to the side and pulled up shortly by the side of the road.
When Alex slammed the brakes, everyone except he and Erik lurched forward.
Infant-Raven shouted something no child of seven should ever say.
Alex turned to Erik.
"Mind doing the hood?" he asked.
Erik nodded and the hood pulled itself up over their heads.
Both Charles and Hank sighed in relief as the wind vanished, leaving them only somewhat freezing.
Alex and Emma rolled up their windows. Raven and Erik did likewise.
Feeling now returning to his legs, Charles noticed with a start that his leg was pressed up against Erik's. As much as he wanted to move it, he found it impossible since there was no other space, since Erik's and Emma's bags were squashed next to his feet, since Alex and Hank had claimed the trunk.
Erik's leg was also warm. Charles' was not.
Alex pulled the car back onto the highway and they sped off.
Raven peered out of the window. "Oh look. Just in time," she said, pointing out the window. Charles leaned forward to look past her.
It was really starting to snow. Small, thin flakes whisked past the window like pelting rain.
No one else spoke for a while.
Alex sighed. "Well I'm turning on the radio," he said, fiddling with the dials on his dashboard.
There was a brief whshhhh of static as Alex tried to find his favorite station, while simultaneously trying to keep his eyes on the road.
"Ha!" Alex said, overtaking the car in front of them and managing to flip to a station. "This is the one," he said, taking the steering wheel with one hand again.
Music started. Obviously, Alex had flipped to the station that was in the middle of playing a song.
Charles listened. He thought he recognized the singer, but not the song. He was sure he'd heard the voice before, but not for a few years at least. "This is….. Elvis, right? I didn't think he'd stay popular for so long."
Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at him in disbelief.
"You're joking, righ-"
"ALEX LOOK WHERE YOU'RE DRIVING!" Hank shrieked.
Alex spun back to the road, and shifted lanes to avoid smashing into the back of the car in front of them. He overtook it easily.
"Where have you been living for the past decade?" Alex asked in amazement.
In deepest darkest Russia, Charles thought dryly.
"The last I heard of Elvis was Hound Dog," Charles said, embarrassed.
"What a sad life you must live," Alex said mockingly.
"A sad, yet interesting one, where I have no time for good music," Charles said wistfully.
The last few bars faded away and were replaced by a soft ballad.
It was only when the singer began with, "I was alright...for a while…" did Hank tear his eyes from the countryside that raced past.
"Alex, turn up the sound," he ordered.
When Alex did not, Emma leaned forward and twirled the volume dial, muttering about how "immature" Alex was being today.
"But I saw you last night… You held my hand so tight… As you stopped to say hellooooo," the singer continued.
Hank hummed along to it, hitting all the notes.
"I'm confused," Charles whispered, leaning over Erik.
"Wait until the song's over," Erik breathed out of the corner of his mouth. "Hank takes his music very seriously."
Charles sat through the song. The singer's voice was very operatic, and once he'd finished with, "Crying… Over you", Charles looked at Hank.
"Who was that?" he asked.
"Roy Orbison he's-" Hank began.
"He has no soul," Alex called from the front. "And he can't dance!"
Hank leaned forward, Raven sliding from his knees and reached forward to the seat in front of him and mock-slapped Alex.
"Whoa, I thought you didn't want me to crash the car," Alex said smugly.
"Roy Orbison has ten times the singing voice that Elvis does, and he puts all of his 'soul' into singing, not performing erotic dance moves-" Hank accused.
"Elvis served in the military, and if you don't think his voice is good then tell that to his millions of-"
"Sex!" Hank exclaimed. "It's like he goes to perform onstage and suddenly everyone has an orgasm! And it doesn't help that he's so damn attractive," he finished.
Alex snorted. "It's called a concert. If you actually went to one, then-"
The conversation went downhill from there, although Charles found it extremely entertaining to watch.
He turned to Erik, who was also looking extremely amused. "Your friends are the most delightful people I've ever met," he chuckled. Because before I met them, I only had the pleasure of meeting terrified Soviets.
This made Erik smile. "I can't disagree," he said.
Raven, who had slipped off Hank's lap as he had tried to pull himself into the front seat to throttle Alex, crawled over to get to Erik.
She accidentally kneed Charles in the groin again.
Thankfully, she was light, which to Charles' amazement meant that she could change her mass, and Charles had the strength of will not to cry out.
In the front, Emma had managed to separate Hank's hands from Alex's shirt collar, although they were still bickering.
Charles peered through the gaps between the two front seats and out the window. It was really starting to storm now. Thick and thin flakes were pelting the windshield, the wipers managing to clear them off just in time for them to settle again.
Erik yawned beside him.
"Tired?" Charles asked casually.
Erik nodded. "I fell asleep early yesterday, remember?"
Charles nodded with an internal wince. That'd been when he'd manipulated Erik into letting him join the team.
"Well," Erik continued with a small shrug, "if I fall asleep and wake up, I find it difficult to get back to sleep."
Charles look mortified. "So you haven't slept at all since last night?" he asked.
Erik smiled modestly. "I managed to get to sleep at about four in the morning, but I woke up when Raven got back from buying coffee."
"I already said I'm sorry," Raven said from his lap with the voice of a child.
Charles briefly considered telling the half truth that his powers could make people tired but then realized that one, it would raise more questions than he was willing to answer, and two, it might be taken sexually, which would've been fine if it was just he and Erik and maybe even Hank as well (Charles wasn't sure about Hank).
Charles mentally slapped himself as he tried to imagine himself saying, my secret powers will make you tired.
"I'm still dead tired, but my brain won't let me sleep," Erik said.
"Well, feel free to take a nap. Car rides always put me to sleep." Car rides used to put him to sleep, Charles remembered. Until he'd figured out that sleep left him vulnerable.
Charles didn't know he was doing it until Erik had leaned himself onto his shoulder. Then he realized that he was gently imploring Erik's subconscious to rest, to relax, to-
No. He was not here to comfort Erik. He was not going to influence him for selfish reasons. This is a business trip. Not a road trip with friends, Charles repeated to himself.
"Sorry. I guess I'm more tired than I thought," Erik said.
Charles laughed despite himself. "Just try and sleep," he said, gently prying away Erik's inability to sleep with his mind.
Charles told himself it was to gain Erik's trust, but that small rebellious part of him that was incredibly fond of the man on his right started celebrating.
The trick to it was doing it slowly. Charles could make anyone go to sleep with the metaphorical ease of snapping his mental fingers, but the best kind of sleep was the slow kind.
As he gently lulled Erik into a state of perfect relaxation, Charles half noticed that Alex and Hank had lowered the volume of their bickering, Raven was staring listlessly out the window, and Emma was breathing onto the ice cold window and drawing on the foggy canvas it made. All while some relaxing 'greatest hits of 1961', as the radio announcer put it, played softly in the background.
Charles couldn't help but feel Erik's body press against his, their legs were touching, and the taller man's head rested against Charles'.
Their hands were also dangerously close.
The telepath could feel that Erik was hovering in that hazy state of mind in between sleep and wakefulness, where the voices are always gentle and the world is fuzzy and warm.
Charles allowed himself a little treat. Although he couldn't use his powers on himself to fall asleep, he could slip into another person's mind and, if he wanted to, feel what they were feeling.
Ever so gently, Charles's consciousness flowed into Erik's mind, and he could share the soft pleasure and warmth of the car rolling over small hills. Charles was careful enough to be so gentle that Erik didn't notice his presence.
Charles purposefully blocked himself off from any deep emotions or thoughts Erik was thinking.
Normally, Charles revelled in learning others' secrets, but to listen in on Erik's most private thoughts felt like a betrayal.
Of course, this didn't stop Charles from listening to his surface thoughts. Not to do so would be like giving up his ability to judge an emotion from a person's facial expression. It was just too precious to him, Charles thought.
As he and Erik unknowingly shared the feeling of falling asleep, Charles slumped against the larger man's shoulder, head coming to rest in between his neck and shoulders.
With the rocking of the car, Charles felt himself actually start to drift off. He didn't mind in the slightest. Against all odds, Charles, surrounded by his enemies, felt completely at peace.
"They fell asleep," Raven whispered loudly to the rest of the car.
"So do you think Charles… you know," Alex said, smirking at the road, "prefers the company of men?"
Hank started grinning.
Emma snorted. "I don't need telepathy, because I have a mirror," she said, pointing to the one fixed to the ceiling between her and Alex, "so I can tell you that Hank just got very hopeful."
Hank blushed. "Hey, Charles is my version of Alex's Elvis," he said.
Alex snorted. "Yeah, and Elvis is taken. You remember breakfast?" he asked, "Erik wouldn't shut up about Charles."
Hank rolled his eyes. He almost told them that he and the professor had nearly kissed, but stopped himself. He didn't want to be mocked by the others.
"Honestly, I don't think he's a good influence on Erik," Raven said.
"What makes you say that?" Alex asked, "he seems nice enough."
"Yeah, but you can fake being nice enough," whispered Raven in her child's voice. "And there's no denying there's something different about him. Just remember. He's barely even heard of Elvis, which suggests he's been somewhere that's actively blocking America. He won't tell us his power, he's nearly on a fighting level with Hank-"
"Really? Maybe we can spar toget-"
Raven barreled on in a whisper, "And you remember that first night when he brought back Charles's collection of coins? Most of it was in American currency, but the rest of it was in rubles."
Hank frowned. "So what? You think he could be 'the telepath?'" he asked, sarcastically sketching air quotes.
"Yes," Raven whispered bluntly.
"Well then why hasn't he done anything yet?" Hank asked seriously. "If he's been into us for about three days, he knows our plan, he can see into all our heads and can cause us an unbearable amount of pain," Hank reasoned, "then why are we still here?"
Raven said nothing. You couldn't really say anything to that. "Maybe something's holding him back-"
"Well there's only one way to know for sure," Alex said, deftly weaving between two lorries. He turned to Emma. "You've got to get inside his head."
She blanched. "Alex, you know how rude that is? It's more rude than if you went to a secret mutant gathering in a flashing neon car, a fanfare, while being blue," she turned to Hank. "No offense."
"None taken."
"What I'm trying to say is that another person's mind is sacred to them. It's their most private place."
"Well the telepath wouldn't mind if he did it to you would he?" Raven muttered.
Luckily for Raven, Emma couldn't look directly behind her to give her a death glare.
She closed her eyes and frowned. Then she opened them. "Can't concentrate," she said simply. "I'll do it when we get to his house."
The conversation died.
"So this weather," Alex said, almost too casually.
"Nice," Hank said, turning to peer out of the window.
The countryside around the car was completely white. Not that everything was blanketed in white, like back in DC, but Hank could only see a few dozen feet in any direction before there was so much snow in the air that everything beyond that just melted together into a brilliant bright white.
Occasionally, he would glimpse a thin dark shape amidst the snow fog, but it was always just a tree.
The visibility was so poor that Alex actually started to slow down.
"Do you think you'll be able to read the roadsigns?" Hank asked.
Alex peered into what would've been the gloom, if everything hadn't been glowing with reflected light.
"I can," Emma said. "Just keep you eyes on the road, Alex. We don't want to stop until we get to Charles' house."
From the sleeping Erik's lap, Raven asked, "Did you bring any food?"
Hank was about to smack his forehead and cry out, Food! That's what I forgot! when Emma spoke up.
"I packed all the trail mix that we didn't finish last week," Emma said, uncharacteristically kindly. "It should be in the top of my bag, if you can un-wedge it," she informed Raven.
With quick fingers, Raven's tiny hands managed to free Emma's backpack from between Charles' knees.
She fished around in the top compartment and brought out a whole bag of mix.
"Is this the one with the chocolate?" she asked Emma, who laughed.
"Sugar, if it had chocolate chunks, do you really think we'd have so much left over?"
"Wait, there are sugared oat chunks," Raven said excitedly, pulling out a clump of granola.
Hank sighed.
"How long do we have left?" he asked.
"Three hours and fifteen minutes-ish," Alex said, "but with the weather like this, it might be longer."
Hank groaned and rested his forehead against the back of Alex's seat. "Well at least we won't die in a car crash now," he said.
"Don't jinx it just because I'm going slow," Alex said, making the car skid on the snow as he turned off an exit that Emma had just pointed out to him. "Erik is asleep after all."
After a few more minutes of silence. In which the only sound that could be heard was Raven munching on granola chunks, the seemingly small girl stretched, and sounding exactly like any other child of seven, she asked, "Are we there yet?"
"No," Emma said.
"I'm so bored," moaned Raven a little while later. "Why couldn't Erik just fly us there?"
"Because if he did then we'd look more conspicuous than Elvis and his pink Cadillac," Alex replied.
Hank suggested that they play I-Spy, but after three turns of correctly guessing 'snow' on her first time Emma had had enough.
"Did anyone bring a book?" she asked.
"I have an essay on wavelength and someone's doctorate on sound repressants, but I feel like that's not your genre," Hank said, his voice muffled by Alex's seat, that he now had his whole face pressed up against.
"You must be psychic," Emma droned sarcastically.
"Well," Alex said, changing the subject, "at least when we get snowed in at Charles' house, we can have a snowball fight. We could even make snow forts and split into teams and use our powers."
The others though about this for a second.
"Ok, you know we have to do this right?" Raven said a moment later.
Then after another brief pause, she added, "I call being on Emma's team."
"Me too," Alex said.
Hank groaned.
A long time passed in content silence as they listened to the radio and passed around the huge bag of trail mix, of which only the nasty nuts and partially squashed raisins were left.
At one point, Raven awkwardly clambered into the front seat to sit with Emma. Hank was completely sure they were coming up with a strategy to completely destroy Hank's team.
Hank tried to bury his head in the back of Alex's seat and try and get some sleep.
Erik was the first to wake up. Dimly, through the warm haze of drowsiness, he that they were approaching a large deposit of metal that crisscrosses in an underground bunker.
They'd gotten to Charles' house.
Erik really didn't feel like moving however. The car was a heated metal bubble keeping them safe, and someone, Charles, he was sure, was leaning on him.
He considered that this was the second time in two days they'd fallen asleep together. Throughout their childhood it had happened just the same. Erik was glad that he and Charles hadn't changed all that much.
In fact, Erik would have been quite content to lie there for the rest of the day, surrounded by a protective cocoon of metal, if Alex hadn't pulled his signature stopping-the-car-just-before-it-was-too-late move.
Erik lurched forward, his seatbelt digging into his neck and chest, which saved him from smacking into the back of Emma's seat.
To his left, Charles flew forward, only to be caught by his seatbelt. The professor's eyes flew open. "Gaaaakkh," he choked, massaging the spot where the seatbelt had cut into his throat. "What a rude awakening," he muttered in his posh accent.
Erik had to suppress a smirk.
Alex opened his door and a flurry of snowflakes roared in.
"Alex wait no-" Charles yelped as the icy air hit him. "We have a garage…a place to park... I'll direct you there."
Alex closed the door and followed Charles' finger-pointing directions around to a hidden part of the house to a gravel patch surrounded by old walls on three sides and sheltered by a sturdy overhang that was overgrown with dead creeper plants.
Emma remarked that it wasn't much of a garage, to which Charles replied that if she wanted to get to the real garage she could have fun walking all the way back to the mansion in the blizzard.
Erik braced himself for another gust of cold air, then opened the door. Behind him, Charles swore.
They pulled out their bags, Raven helping Hank with all of his luggage, and dashed to the door that was also under the overhang.
In Erik's opinion, it was just as fancy as the huge doors out front: dark wood, antique looking handle and all around it aged grey stone.
Charles rapped at the door loudly. Then, growing impatient, entered the minds of one of the staff inside and implanted the sound of the knocking door and a nagging need to answer it. He tried to be as subtle as he could in case Emma was watching but honestly he was too cold to take it slowly.
The boy opened the door hurriedly, and murmured a small "Sorry, Professor" when Charles stepped in, followed by five others.
Charles plucked the name from the boy's mind. "Hugo," he said kindly. "Would you mind running down to the kitchens and telling Miss Anne that we have guests for dinner?"
A grin split Hugo's face. Thank heavens the Professor wasn't angry at him. He dashed away.
Charles helped Hank carry his things upstairs, while the others followed, carrying their own, smaller bags.
"I had to bring everything from the lab," Hank explained, "since we won't be going back for a while."
It was a good thing the mansion had a dozen or so guest bedrooms, Charles thought as he pointed out where all of them could sleep. His own rooms were on the other side of the floor, overlooking the gardens.
He helped everyone settle in, then brought them all downstairs for dinner.
They sat in the dining hall that Erik and Hank had sat at before, with its tall windows looking out over the dark grounds. Since it was so dark, it was hard to make out shapes, but the swirling pattern of snow against the window was the only view they needed.
The cook, Mrs. Anne, as she bade everyone call her, brought out steaming bowls of noodle soup that everyone slurped happily as they stared out at the snow now beginning to pile against the bottom of the window.
Mrs. Anne explained that she had sent most of the staff home because of the weather. Charles didn't mind.
"Snowball fight," Alex said in between mouthfuls. "Tomorrow. I'm on Emma and Ravens' team."
Charles grinned. "Sounds like a plan," he said. Why the hell was he doing this anyway. There was no point getting friendly, he'd been telling himself, you're just going to betray them, he knew, but somehow he just couldn't stop himself.
It was like having a proper family.
Hugo whisked away all the bowls when they were done.
"That," Emma said, "was actually very nice."
"What she means," Raven explained, "is that the soup was delicious. Thanks Mrs. Anne, from all of us."
The grandmotherly lady who had held the door open for Hugo to get the plates smiled. "Thank you darlings," she said.
Erik yawned.
"I thought you wouldn't be able to sleep after the car ride," Charles said playfully.
"I won't, but this place makes me feel like I'm about to be tucked into bed by my mother," Erik said as he stared out the window.
Charles let him have a moment to his own thoughts, even his surface ones, then he turned to the rest of his guests.
"I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted," Charles lied.
Hank laughed. "At least you got some sleep. How do you think the rest of us feel?"
Charles shrugged, making a gesture with his hands that communicated, you got me. "Well," he continued, "off to bed?" he suggested.
For once, he was met with no resistance, not even from Emma.
They filed upstairs in a sloppy line, and once they reached their rooms, all of them except Charles fell messily on their beds, not bothering to undress.
Charles stayed awake for far too long before drifting off. Tomorrow, he'd be in the middle of a snowball fight, rather than trying to prevent American world domination.
What had Erik done to him? Why'd he have to go and screw with Charles' feelings right when it mattered.
Why did Erik have to be just as loveable as he'd been twenty years ago?
Oh, the questions of the universe, Charles thought, mind unwittingly drifting to the angles of Erik's face and the smile that could light up half the world.
No, don't think about that. Think of Emma. Frost. Whatever. How are you going to get past her?
Charles rolled over. The answers were always too easy. Just manipulate her.
That always seemed to be the answer. Ever since he'd gotten his power, everything had been making people do what he let them do, even if he hadn't actually used his powers.
He thought of Erik again. Damnit. Shut up, he told himself. I am not going to feel guilty about being myself. My manipulative, 'charming' self.
Then another part of him piped up with, If you're going to be yourself, why not acknowledge that maybe, you're just a tiny bit-
Charles shut the thought down. "I'm not in love," he hissed into his pillow. Anyway, it's not like Erik would reciprocate if he knew I was always in his head.
It was not surprising that Charles had a very bad night's sleep.
"You look like you tried to fight a pillow and lost," Emma remarked dryly the next morning.
"And it gave you two black eyes," Alex nodded, indicating the dark circles under Charles' eyes.
Erik looked on in amusement. "C'mere," he said to Charles, patting the chair in between himself and Hank. "We need to talk strategy."
Hank grinned as Charles sat down. "Their powers might be more useful, but we're definitely more strategic."
Charles raised an eyebrow.
Hank sighed. "You and I have both received a variety of education about mutant powers and weaknesses," he said, "and I'm pretty sure Erik over here is a chess grandmaster in disguise."
"You play chess?" Charles asked.
Erik nodded. "I'm not sure I'd call myself a master," he said modestly.
Hank laughed sarcastically. "That's hilarious Erik."
Emma, Raven and Alex left the breakfast table to go 'plan' telling Erik's team that they would be ready by lunchtime.
A few minutes later, they were holed up in Charles' bedroom, sitting on the windowsill in a large alcove with a tall window that overlooked the Xavier estate.
Erik peered out. "Do you think we'll be able to do anything in this weather?" He asked, gesturing at the sky that was practically shoveling snow from the heavens.
"Well Alex can use his power to heat stuff up and Raven can morph herself a coat or something," Hank said, idly drawing circles on the edge of his paper.
"Also I doubt Emma would feel cold as a diamond," Charles said.
Erik floated a coin in between his fingers. "I can build the fort," Erik suggested. "And I suppose Hank can make some sort of contraption to throw snowballs.
"Is it usually a capture the flag sort of game, or a 'I'll-keep-pegging-you-with-snowballs-until-you-surrender' sort of game?" Charles asked. He was sketching out the vague outline of a small castle, complete with arrow slits and levels.
Erik shrugged. "A bit of both. Usually when we destroy their fort, they give up." He leaned over to peer at Chales' plan.
"We should add trenches. If I'm going to have a snowball-throwing machine, then I can lay down some suppressive fire," Erik said, indicating.
Charles vaguely wondered why Erik would need a machine since he was a telekinetic, but then reasoned that if he used his powers, then there wasn't any point in his playing.
"That's smart," Charles said, drawing them in. He looked up at Hank. "So this machine," he asked, "what do you have in mind?"
Hank turned his notepad around. "Just a simple… thing," he finished, unable to explain.
To Charles, it looked like a conveyor belt with heavy ridges that was turned by a hand crank. An arrow indicated one of the deep grooves and the caption in Hank's scrawl read, snowballs go here.
"And Erik will use his powers to turn the crank, right?"
Hank nodded.
"Looks good to me," Erik said with a shark-like grin.
"And I'm sure I've got some materials stashed away somewhere." Charles got up and brushed himself down, noticing with embarrassment through his telepathy that both Erik and Hank were admiring his figure. "I'll go get them," he said, turning away and walking out of the room, trying to blush at the fact that he could tell Hank was staring at his ass.
So Hank was also a 'homosexual', he assumed. He detested that word. It sounded sterile and prescribed, as if it were a horrible disease.
I wonder if he and Erik ever- Nope, nope nope nope. He tried not to think about them like that. Nope.
Charles tried to tell himself that he just couldn't imagine two, for lack of a better word, purer people together, and that was why he couldn't even think of it, but another part of him chanted, jealous, jealous, Charles Xavier is jealous-
Charles wrenched open the door to the attic and stalked upstairs, feet banging on the rickety stairs.
If I really was jealous, he countered, I would have Erik and Hank bent over the arms of an divan by now. It wasn't as if he was a stranger to it, only this time he'd be doing it for selfish reasons, for his own pleasure.
Not selfish reasons, he chided himself. I'm not going to do it, therefore it's not selfish.
The attic was musty and particles of dust hung in the air like softest, lightest snow.
Charles searched around for something useful.
He scowled at an antique tea set before his gaze moved on.
Eventually he decided there was nothing, so he went downstairs to the basement (not the bunker) where he was sure there would be some equipment.
"Did you manage to read his mind?" Raven asked, lounging on Emma's bed.
She shook her head as she stared out the window. "I was too tired last night," she said.
"Why don't you try now?" Alex said. "I feel like we've got our plan set up anyway."
Emma turned away from the window and went to sit on the bed. "Fine," she said. She stared straight ahead, obviously concentrating.
"She really freaks me out when she does that," Alex whispered to Raven. "It's like she doesn't see anything-"
"You know I can hear you right?"
Alex rolled his eyes.
Emma went back to her telepathy, expanding her power and searching for Charles. Oddly enough, he was downstairs rather than with his team.
She focused her energy on him. Now what should she do… it seemed that sneaking into Charles' thoughts was be the best option. After hearing about how powerful the telepath was, Emma didn't want to risk a full confrontation. If he was a normal mutant, then she hoped he wouldn't notice.
But what the others had said yesterday about his not making a move made her pause. Honestly, Charles didn't seem the type of person to hurt Erik, especially if Charles felt to Erik even a tenth of Erik what felt towards him.
Why would Charles even do such a thing. He wasn't even a threat. He'd practically admitted to them that he was afraid of his own powers.
Emma was about to draw back when next to her, Raven asked, "Well? Is he the bad guy or not? Alex said we couldn't be completely sure unless you checked."
Emma snapped back to herself, the a took a deep breath and started to slip past Charles' defenses.
Charles felt the mental equivalent of brushing past someone, and instantly identified it as Emma.
He wondered how she'd gotten through his outer defenses.
Charles had developed his 'outer defences' when he had been employed to hunt down, interrogate, and turn telepaths for the Soviets.
So that he didn't need to maintain his strongest shields the whole time, Charles had created a sort of instinctive mechanism where he'd trained his subconscious to distract a telepath from his mind.
Whenever a psychic tried to look closely at his mind, their thoughts would slide off his mind like oil on water, and they'd be distracted.
He found that it wasn't too concentration consuming and that it worked wonders when he was tracking down the telepaths. They didn't feel threatened by him, because they thought that they could enter his mind whenever they wanted but just chose not to.
Obviously it wasn't foolproof. If a telepath knew he was doing it, they could easily circumvent it, or if they were put in a position where they were forced to enter his mind, then the results would be similar.
Charles was hoping it was the latter, and quickly surrounded his deeper thoughts in a mental shield, hoping she wouldn't look too deep.
He let some interesting thoughts surface to keep her distracted and prevent her from looking further.
Oh look, a bike, he thought, spotting it in a corner of the basement, why would someone leave it down here? I wonder how cold it is outside. When's lunch? I'm starting to get a bit peckish.
Then because he couldn't help himself, he decided to have a little fun.
He allowed himself to picture Erik's sharp jawline, then his eyes. Charles' mind drifted to how close-fitting Erik's turtleneck was. Mmm, yes. Peckish, he thought.
Emma's presence practically fled.
"Oh my God," Emma said.
"What happened?" Raven demanded, anxiously.
"He was thinking of Erik," she stammered.
Alex leapt from his seat and jumped on the bed. "Emma," he said urgently. "You need to go back. It could be a distraction," he said. "We need to know what he's really thinking."
Emma gave him a look.
Raven snorted. "Why not?" she said. "You have to make sure that his feelings are genuine."
"It's your duty as Erik's friend," Alex added.
Charles shuddered. Had he really just done that? He snickered. Maybe it was worth the lie, he kept reminding himself, to see Emma's reaction next time he and Erik were together.
It was a good thing she hadn't stayed longer, since he would have had to move to Hank.
Then he felt Emma's presence again. Damnit. Now he had to do it again.
It would have to be Hank this time, he decided as he imagined a scene.
Hank's tie, usually so neat, was slightly loose and crooked. Hank gulped, and the dim, warm light illuminated his adam's apple. Charles imagined himself reaching forward and gently plucking off Hank's glasses-
"Oh my God," Emma repeated. "Hank."
Alex keeled over and rolled off the bed, roaring with laughter.
Raven looked wide-eyed at Emma, horrified.
Why wasn't she leaving? Charles thought frantically.
He imagined pulling his head close to Hank's, just like how they'd done in the lab. Forehead-to-forehead. You are absolutely brilliant, he whispered.
Shit, Charles thought privately. He hadn't planned this far ahead. Back to Erik then.
He pulled from a dozen different memories and hastily weaved them together.
Charles? Erik was a child. They were sitting in the field, and the light was a flaming orange. Charles could tell that if he looked behind him, he'd see Emma. He didn't dare risk it.
Er-ik? he sang back. Had he really sounded this childlike back then?
When we go to America, what kind of house are we getting?
I don't know, Charles answered, as earnestly as he had when he'd replied to Erik so many years ago.
Can we get one where it's always like this?
Yes… Charles remembered with a jolt what he used to call Erik, before he knew what it meant. ...dear.
Damnit. He'd picked it up from listening to his parents talk.
Emma vanished, but Charles kept playing his memory for another few seconds. What had possessed him to let Emma see that?
He put his head in his hands. Oh damn, everyone was going to think that he actually liked Erik. And Hank. Oh goodness. What were they going to make of that?
Charles gathered the items he needed and hurried back upstairs.
"Oh my God," Emma whispered, opening the eyes she hadn't realized she'd squeezed shut.
"Did he have sex with Hank?" Raven and Alex asked at the same time, both of them somewhat in awe.
"No, they just nearly kissed, but he and Erik were very close during their childhood," Emma said, smiling despite herself. "He called Erik 'dear',"
she said. "And then I just felt like I was invading his privacy."
"Ok sure, but tell us about Hank," Alex said eagerly.
Raven laughed.
"Well," Emma began, "he and Hank were sitting in armchairs and Hank's tie was ruffled up. Then Charles took off his glasses and leaned in to kiss him," she explained casually. "Then he said, 'You are brilliant'," Emma added.
Alex curled up on the floor whimpering with laughter.
Raven laughed. "That has got to be the sweetest thing," she said. "Did you manage to figure out what his power was?"
"Oh. Right," Emma remembered. "No."
Raven laughed even louder and leaned over to hug Emma. She giggled, "I take it back. You have got to be the sweetest thing."
About an hour later there was a knock at the door and Hank opened it.
Alex, who had recovered enough to sit up, collapsed again.
"Miss Anne says that lunch is ready," Hank said, looking curiously at Alex. "Am I… missing something?" he asked.
"We'll tell you later," Emma said with a small smile. "I think Erik would want to hear it too."
Hank came with them downstairs, telling them that Erik had already gone down with Charles. This seemed to amuse Emma greatly.
They sat in their different teams at opposite ends of the table, whispering to each other over their spaghetti carbonara.
"Are you sure it's going to work?" Charles asked Hank.
"Positive. I made Erik check while you went to ask Miss Anne for lunch," he replied.
"Hank, you are absolutely brilliant," Charles said, then instantly regretted it.
From the other side of the table Alex started choking on his pasta. Extremely loudly. Raven had to pat him on the back.
She told everyone? Charles thought with an internal groan.
Erik stared out of the window. He was itching to start building this fort. The snow was at least a foot and a half deep, he noticed, and it was still snowing. That just made it all the more exciting.
All six of them stood decked in ski-gear and goggles with thick boots.
"Ok," Erik said. "Three, two, one…GO!" he yelled. The latch to the half window, half sliding door popped open and all of them dashed out.
The moment she stepped into the snow, Emma morphed into her diamond form. She hoisted Alex and Raven into a fireman's lift on either shoulder and dashed away.
Soon they were hidden by the flurry of snowflakes, although the storm was much lighter than the day before.
Hank, Charles and Erik waded their way to an out of the way place near the trees, close to the 'real' garage, which took them twenty minutes.
"Alright Erik," Charles called to him, "get the shovels!"
"Already on it," the other man called back, raising a hand in the direction of the garage.
A moment later, about thirty gardening shovels sailed over the trees and began ferociously piling snow in a circle.
Erik would take care of the fort, while Charles and Hank would start making snowballs.
They worked silently for another ten minutes. Hank was incredibly good at making snowballs, Charles discovered. Together, they made one hundred and forty two.
Charles looked at the fort and let out a gasp. There was a twenty foot tall mound of snow.
Erik had even made it out of clean snow by leaving an inch of snow on the ground instead of using all of it.
About ten shovels piled more snow on top, while the rest formed the outside into a neat circle.
After another six hundred snowballs, Charles looked again.
A magnificent miniature castle stood in front of him, with ramparts, tough walls and an extremely tall tower in the middle. Charles was willing to bet there were stairs.
Erik had hurried around, ordering the shovels to pile snow up and then dig trenches every thirty feet.
He hurried over holding out one hand to keep the shovels working. "Should I get the Weapon?" he asked.
It had been Hank's idea to call the snowball thrower 'the Weapon'. Charles had to agree. According to the calculations on Hank's notepad, the Weapon would be in the same vein as a snowball machine gun.
"Go ahead," Charles said, "but please don't break my window."
"I won't, Erik said, reaching out a hand in the direction they'd come from.
Two somethings flew towards them, small dots getting bigger.
One of them was a metal wheelbarrow. The other was the Weapon.
It looked like a really ineffective tank wheel with a crank attached. It floated towards Erik and hovered just above his shoulder.
Hank grinned wickedly. "They'll never know what hit 'em."
They now had a thousand snowballs, and Charles' fingers wouldn't stop reminding him. They put each new snowball into the wheelbarrow, which was then transported to the top of the tower by Erik, who kept a lookout from the tower wall.
Where were the others? Charles thought bitterly.
A moment later, he wished he hadn't jinxed it.
A beam of light hit the snowball he had been forming and it melted in his hand. Charles wiped the now-wet glove on his salopettes and spun around. It was Alex.
"Haaaaaaaank," he called out as Alex stalked closer, threateningly raising a snowball.
Something large and blue wearing Hank's ski-gear flew past Charles and smashed into Alex.
Hank, in beast form, did not do the whole 'snowball' thing. He pinned Alex to the ground and scooped snow all over him.
"Rule breaker!" a lumberjack screeched, throwing a snowball that caugh Hank right in the face. Raven had arrived. "Snowballs only!" she cried.
Charles couldn't help but be impressed, as she catapulted herself over Hank, in snow pants no less, scoring three more headshots.
Hank was quick though, and he rolled out of the way to avoid more snow. Unfortunately, that meant that Alex was free.
While Alex was getting to his feet, Charles quickly and carefully caused the dazed mutant to be unable to see him as he formed a snowball and dashed to the left.
Charles 'reappeared' at the field of Alex's vision, and threw the snowball with all his might.
A blast of energy zapped the snowball into a splash of water. Charles backed up as Alex stalked towards him again.
Charles fled, hoping to lead Alex around the castle and into the woods. Where was Erik? he thought frantically.
Alex had longer legs and when Charles turned, he saw that the other man was nearly on top of him. Charles renewed his efforts, and telepathically confused his foot eye coordination.
Alex tried to take two steps with his left foot and unsurprisingly, he tripped.
Charles made it to the tree-line and leaned against a tree. He could hear Alex getting closer, the snow crunching under his feet.
Oh lord. Snow. Damnit. Footprints. Hiding was pointless.
Charles peered around the tree, and reached out with his mind to find Erik. If he could just lead Alex to Erik…
His mind found Emma in her diamond state.
When a telepath uses their powers, they use waves to achieve a connection. However, when the wave is blocked with the certain frequency found in psion-blocking helmets, part of the wave reflects back at the telepath, theming them where the helmet user is. This is much the same as how a dolphin senses its environment underwater.
Emma's diamond, although it did not have a current running through it to produce magnetic waves, acted exactly the same as a psion-helmet, which was how Charles could tell where she was.
She was close. And getting closer. And so was Alex.
Charles noted that Erik was still in the castle tower. What was he doing? And Raven and Hank were still fighting.
Unwilling to control his friend when he didn't need to, Charles merely prayed, Please Erik, follow the footprints.
Charles sprinted away, dashing from tree to tree. Emma was coming extremely quickly, while Alex maintained a constant distance from him.
He didn't have time to make snowballs.
He did invest in backtracking however, as he knew it would buy him time like it usually did when he was being hunted in snowy Russia.
He would run one way for about thirty seconds and stop under a tree with low hanging branches then retrace his exact footsteps and carry on.
Hopefully Alex and Emma would be thorough enough that they'd have to check both routes before figuring out he'd stayed on foot.
He did this twice more, then on the last one, he made two going to separate trees, then he climbed one and tried to get to another. He managed to get several trees away, then climbed that one all the way to the top.
He surveyed the area psychically. Emma had taken the bait, but she and Alex had met up, and he was taking the other path.
Come on Erik, where are you?
Alex and Emma reached the tree he'd climbed.
"Look, those branches are missing snow," Alex said loudly in the blanketing silence of the snow. "He must've gone that way!"
Damn.
Something knocked against his tree.
Emma.
Damn.
She was shining. The light that reflected off the snow didn't help either. It almost hurt to look at her, Charles thought in amazement.
"Got you, Xavier," she said peering through the leaves and locking eyes with him. She reached out a hand and grabbed a branch. Emma began climbing quicker and quicker until she was only a few branches below him.
"Actually," Charles said in his best professor voice, "I think we've got you."
He moved a branch aside, to reveal a floating Erik with the Weapon and its accompanying cart of snowballs pointed directly at Emma.
"À plus tart," Charles said with a wave, and Erik activated the machine.
The crank twirled faster than Charles could believe, spinning the conveyer-belt-like contraption just as rapidly.
The wheelbarrow tipped the snowballs onto the conveyor belt, and they flew forward like soft white bullets, slamming into Emma's shining chest and easily dislodging her from the tree.
"Quick, hold on," Erik called out, "we need to go back for Hank!"
Charles instinctively wrapped his arms around the other man's legs.
Erik laughed. "I suppose that'll do," he shouted as they soared back to the snow fort.
Hank was nervous. Not because he and Raven were trying their best to give each other hypothermia, but because something painfully familiar was niggling at the back of his mind.
Or his nose.
As Raven twirled around him, avoiding about two thirds of his snowballs, Hank couldn't stop wondering what it was that smelled so familiar.
Raven backed away to make snowballs, and Hank rolled a snow back and forth in front of him to make a huge one, which he hefted up with ease.
He took a preparatory inhale through the nose and jumped up high, flying at least as high as the walls of their snow fort.
Raven looked up from making her fourth snowball to see a big blue beast swooping down upon her with a snowball twice the size of her head.
It looked like he had ripped the middle portion out of a snowman.
Raven dove to the side, but even so, Hank's giant snowball caught her in the hip, and she tumbled into the snow.
Hank waded over to her. It wasn't too hard to push through all the snow. It was relatively light, and Hank had heightened strength.
He made another snowball, regular sized this time, just in case Raven tried anything.
Then he stopped.
It was such a faint smell, but Hank paused. He thought he recognized it now. What was it…
Snow. A building, half wrecked. Another, across the street. A man and woman bound together on the bathroom floor. The roof, cleared of snow. A smell.
Hank made no attempt to block Raven's snowball.
"Raven," he called out dangerously.
Sensing the fear in his voice, Raven stopped. "What is it Hank?" she asked, stepping towards him.
Hank looked around to see if anyone was watching.
"I can smell the telepath," he said in a low voice.
Raven's head whipped around as if they were about to be attacked.
"The scent is faint. Maybe it's just the snow, or maybe he's a long way off, or the scent is old." Hank rubbed his face. "I hate this snow. It's messing with my nose. Any other time, I'd be able to tell if the scent is fresh or stale-"
"Maybe he managed to follow you here when you came for that lecture," Raven suggested.
Hank shook his head. "Why didn't he strike then? We didn't have Emma, and-"
"But," Raven interrupted, "there were about two dozen geneticists who studied the mutant gene that night. What if the telepath didn't want to risk exposing his powers in front of other possible mutants?"
Hank shook his head more vigorously. "It doesn't matter though, because if he'd been following us home, then he'd have known where the house was, giving him the perfect opportunity."
"What're we going to do?" Raven asked, eyeing the sea of white around her as if it were about to jump on her from behind.
"Helmets. Do you think you could ask Emma-"
Raven nodded. "Tonight after supper."
Hank stared around as well. "I'll get Erik."
Neither of them wanted to mention out loud that Charles Xavier was looking more and more suspicious.
Finally, Hank said, "He's had ample time to strike."
Both of them knew what he was talking about.
There was complete silence, which was broken by the screams of the world renowned professor Charles Xavier falling from the sky.
Erik flew through the sky, hovering about twenty five feet above the ground.
"Why do you ever land?" Charles shouted up to him. Admiration and joy put into words.
Erik laughed. "Because that's where all the people are!"
Charles was hugging his legs together. It was comforting and warm, even through the four layers Erik had on. Then Charles slipped.
"Umm Erik," he shouted, his hands slipping another couple of inches.
Erik raked the area for any sign of the fort. "Charles, hang on," he yelled.
"I think Hank was back that way!" Charles shouted, having sensed his presence but not paid attention to his thoughts because he was going to fall.
Erik looked down to see Charles jerking his head forward and to the left.
Erik used the metal soles of his shoes to zoom over to where Charles was indicating.
It turned out to be a mistake, however, as Charles quickly began losing his grip.
Charles was hanging by Erik's shoes now. Come on… Hank and Raven were almost below them when-
His gloves slipped. Shit. "Erik!" he yelled, tumbling to earth with an acceleration of 9.81 meters per second squared.
This was going to hurt a lot.
It didn't. There was a loud whump and suddenly Charles was cradled in Hank's strong blue arms.
Then Hank, who'd run to catch him, tumbled forwards into the snow, face first.
Charles lay sprawled in the squishy mass of flakes. "Hank? That's you right? Not Raven?" he asked, getting to his feet.
Hank rolled over. Snow covered his face. It was in his face and up his nose. He coughed. "Yeah, that's me," he said sheepishly.
"You are absolutely brilliant," Chalres said, tackling him with a hug.
Erik dropped from the sky like a ship's anchor, the Weapon and ammo wheelbarrow hovering next to him. "Charles are you alright?"
Charles let out a hysterical laugh and got up. "I suppose," he said.
Then Erik spotted Raven. He pointed. "Look!"
Suddenly everyone was making snowballs and Erik was speeding toward Raven with the Weapon.
The Weapon spat snowballs at a fierce pace. It was like a spray of extremely soft balls of hail.
Raven was quick. She morphed into a scarecrow of a person and ducked and threw herself around to avoid getting hit, but even so, she wasn't fast enough to avoid them all.
Eventually Erik caught her in a storm of about fifty snowballs.
She shrieked as he blasted her.
Then, the snowballs ran out.
Instantly Raven was on her feet and on the run.
Charles and Hank tried to hit her with their snowballs but she had already dashed out of their range.
Erik sighed as she disappeared into the trees.
Charles came up to him. "We should make more snowballs. I'm sure they'll be back."
While Charles was out gathering snow, Hank pulled Erik aside. "I need to tell you something. And we need to test something. My room after dinner."
Erik's brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded.
Charles returned and they all continued making snowballs.
The other team did, in fact, come back. With snowballs of their own.
Erik's team was ready. He had a hundred balls to use with the Weapon if he needed, but he thought it best to save them. Instead, he rained snow down from above.
Charles and Hank were defending from the tower walls.
All was going well until Alex decided to melt the fort.
Charles had just hit Emma in the back of the head and was feeling quite proud of himself until suddenly he felt himself falling in an avalanche that had been a walk moments ago.
Charles was buried up to his chest, making him an easy target for Alex's snowballs. At that moment, a giant snowball smacked him in the shoulder as Hank rescued him. Again.
Charles pulled himself out and looked at the destruction. A quarter section of the wall had crumbled.
It wasn't as bad as Charles had initially thought, since the 'rubble' created a steep and slippery slope up which it would be impossible to climb.
That is, he thought it would be impossible to climb until Emma leapt up it in her diamond form, digging her feet into the snow easily.
"Hank! You've got company!" Charles shouted, before turning to deal with Alex.
He'd just finished making a snowball when Erik ran up to him from the side. "Quick. Come here," he said, beckoning.
Charles ran forward with his snowballs and smashed one into Erik's face. "Imposter!" he cried gleefully.
Raven stumbled back, melting into the young woman. "What gave me away?" she asked, raising a snowball.
"You don't have the Weapon," Charles said, leaping forward with a snowball in either hand. He didn't tell her that he'd sensed her mind with his telepathy.
He spun forward, feinting and lashing out with his hands. She mimicked him with snowballs in her hands and then they were fistfighting as fast as the falling snow.
Raven launched a fierce jab aimed at Charles' abdomen. He tried to dodge but her hand snaked around into a haymaker and she struck him in the side. Even though it wasn't as powerful as the blow she could have landed if he hadn't dodged, Charles was sent flying, snow exploding against his ribs.
As he was falling he managed to flick a snowball up at her face. It missed, hitting her in the neck instead, but Charles knew that a neckshot was at least ten times worse than a head shot, since snow could trickle down your collar and prove itself hell.
Raven stumbled backwards as Charles flopped in the snow. He looked back at the fort.
It appeared that Hank had repelled Emma and was now dealing with Alex who was doing his best to destroy Erik's fort.
With a groan, Charles saw Emma climb her way back up the wall. She got to the top, but just as she pulled her chest over the top, Erik rose from behind the wall and blasted her off with the Weapon.
Charles cheered.
Then Raven picked him up by the collar and stuffed snow down his shirt.
The six of them returned to the mansion about half an hour later. Erik's team hadn't officially surrendered, but their fort had been completely destroyed by Alex and Emma and Raven had held Charles hostage, occasionally dropping snow into his clothes to amuse herself.
Miss Anne already had the fire roaring and she'd started making hot chocolate.
They'd all gathered around the fireplace, shivering. Hank was still blue, but even his mutation didn't stop him from being cold.
To Charles' credit, he resisted suggesting taking their clothes off as he'd often had to do after a cold, wet day in Russia. He had however, heavily supported it when Hank had suggested it. They were all shivering after all.
He, Hank, Alex and Erik all pulled off their clothes.
"Keep your underwear on," Raven warned.
"Or what?" Alex mocked.
"I will turn morph into Elvis, naked," she said. "Naked," she repeated.
Charles started giggling uncontrollably. For four minutes. "Erik help me," he wheezed, "I can't stop." Then he collapsed into full blown laughter.
Everyone joined in, laughing at the fact that he was still laughing just as much as picturing Elvis with no clothes.
Eventually they all calmed down, for the most part. Then Alex asked, "Are you two going to take your clothes off? We're feeling self conscious."
Raven morphed into a man and peeled off her clothes until she was sitting next to them in her underwear.
With a roll of her eyes and a short cussing session, Emma removed her clothes.
"I feel like we're in one of those family saunas," Hank remarked.
Through his telepathy, Charles could tell that the only one that wasn't actively trying to avoid looking at Emma's breasts was Erik.
"C'mon guys," Raven chided. "You sucked your mom's tits for a year. Grow up."
Then, Charles watched in wonder as she transformed. It was like watching scales flip over in a ripple across her body. One moment she was a generically handsome young man, the next, she was a lean, athletic woman with cobalt blue skin and dark markings. She had bright red hair that would have put a fire to shame, and she had pure golden eyes.
Emma turned to her, blushing slightly. "Thanks," she whispered.
Miss Anne came in. Charles quickly infiltrated her mind and bent it to made her feel safe around Raven and Hank, who were both obviously mutants. He also made Miss Anne trust them completely.
So instead of dropping her tray of cocoa, she smiled and came over to lay it down on the coffee table with a very British "here you go, dearies".
They slurped their drinks for a while, then Hugo came in. Charles asked him to go get them all clothes from their rooms while they went and took showers.
They finished the pot of cocoa and soaked themselves in hot water for an unholy amount of time.
Charles got out of the shower only to find that Hugo had picked out a cream coloured sweater and coffee colored slacks. It could have been worse.
He rubbed his head into a towel, leaving it ruffled, then pulled on his clothes.
By the time he emerged from his room, it was dinner time. He hurried downstairs, where he found the others arguing about who'd won. It was mostly Hank and Alex doing the arguing. Erik and Emma were both too mature. Raven just laughed.
Dinner was delicious as always, a three course affair with soup, salad and pasta.
Then Charles pulled himself up to bed and undressed halfheartedly.
He fell asleep before he could muster the strength to pull his covers over himself.
"What did you want?" Erik asked, as Hank cracked the door open. He was back to looking like a regular human.
Hank peered out at the empty landing. "You'd better come in," he said in a low voice.
Erik slipped through the widening crack and into the dimly lit bedroom. A lamp was flickered on the bedside table.
Emma was sitting at the windowsill wearing the floaty white dress she had been wearing at dinner. She was twirling her golden hair around her finger and stopped staring out the window when Erik walked in.
Hank pointed to something on the floor. Since it was made of metal, Erik already knew what it was.
"I'm going to put it on, and Emma's going to make contact with my mind. You," Hank looked at Erik, "are going to shape or magnify or whatever it is you do to the magnetic field. Until Emma says stop. Then you're going to need to practice doing it."
Erik squinted. Hank was being too cryptic for this to be a joke. "Alright," he said. "Emma, whenever you're ready."
Hank picked up the soon-to-be psion-blocking helmet, and put it on. It was too big for him, and it slipped down over his eyes.
Emma closed her eyes.
Erik half-heartedly my stuck his hand out, unsure if he should or needed to use his 'gesture'.
Slowly, he began to increase the field strength up until he began to fear that the metal in the lamp and the ceiling would be attracted to the helmet if he didn't jeep both rooted in place. Nothing.
Then he reversed the polarity and tried again. Nothing.
He bent the field. He gathered the field lines into a thick cord. He stretched them. He spread the waves until it covered the whole helmet, even the bottom, as if Hank's head were a diving helmet made of magnetic field.
Emma gasped. "I think I felt something, just for a second. Wait. Try again."
Erik flexed the waves. He thought he felt something brush against the field, as if another magnet were disrupting it ever so slightly.
With a great deal of effort, he managed to replicate the same magnetism bubble. There! He felt it again, but this time there were more. It felt like someone was spraying a stream of water over the outside of a metal bowl, droplets bouncing off.
Erik looked over to Emma. She seemed to be having a tough time. She was frowning, her eyes squeezed shut, and she appeared to be sweating.
Her eyes flew open. "I think you got it," she said.
Hank wrenched the helmet off, beaming.
"Wait," Erik said. "I want to try something else."
Hank grudgingly put the helmet back on.
Emma closed her eyes again, and Erik did everything as he had before.
He felt the small disturbances that he supposed were coming from Emma's telepathy. Then he tried something. Instead of just letting the waves bounce back, Erik directed them.
He wasn't moving the actual waves, he was just reflecting them off of other magnetic waves he was controlling. Instead of bouncing away, Erik found that he could point them in certain directions.
However, this was extremely difficult, even for him, and it took nearly all of his concentration to accomplish it, since all the waves Emma threw Hank's way reflected differently off of Erik's shields.
He let go. Emma opened her eyes, and Hank took off the helmet.
"Now explain what this is about," Erik said.
"I smelled the telepath today," Hank said. He quickly recounted everything he and Raven had discussed, as well as their speculations about Charles.
Erik had to bite his tongue when they suggested Charles was one of the enemy, but he had to admit the Hank had a point.
However…
"The telepath hasn't done anything yet. If he were this deep undercover, then we wouldn't still be planning to go to Cuba. We'd be dead or worse," Erik pointed out.
"What if he just wants information?" Emma pointed out.
"Then he'd be long gone by now. If the telepath is Charles, which he is not," Erik clarified, "then he'd have already had the chance to sift through our memories for any intel that would be useful."
"Look," Hank said. "I don't want to- I don't believe that Charles is out to get us. But all I'm saying is that we need to be careful." Hank slapped the helmet that he'd lain on his bed. "And right now that means making these work."
Erik nodded. That, he could agree on. "How else can I help?" he asked.
Hank went over to the corner where he'd put his bags, and bulled out two long cylinders. Erik could feel that they were iron, perfect for making into electromagnets.
"I need you to arrange these," Hank said, indicating the cylinders, "so that they make the same field that you used to shield my mind when I run electricity from this battery pack," he pulled one out of the bag, "through it."
Erik started to grin. "Now that, I can do," he said, extending his hands.
Overall, the process took a little over forty minutes of splitting up the iron, arranging it on the helmet, blending it into the helmet, and minute tinkering, but by the end of it, all three of them were grinning.
Hank hastily hooked up a battery pack to the back with some copper wires, and fixed it in place with "Duct tape? Really?" Emma pointed out with an amused grin.
Hank rolled his eyes and activated the custom made battery pack with a switch on the side. He put it on.
"Guess what I'm thinking of," he challenged.
Emma rolled her eyes and concentrated. After a moment, she said, "Congratulations Hank McCoy, your tinfoil hat seems to have worked. But," she added, "I can tell by the stupid grin on your face that you're thinking about Elvis naked."
Erik clapped. He'd felt it work too.
Hank took off the helmet. "Emma, you're psychic," he said. "That's exactly what I was thinking."
She laughed. "It really worked though. I wasn't lying."
Hank turned to Erik. "Do you think you could make more of these? Five more, to be precise?" he asked.
Erik nodded. "Tomorrow though. That snowball fight practically killed me."
Emma smiled dryly. "More like I almost killed you," she muttered, standing up and joining Erik as he slipped out the door.
Charles woke early the next morning, and went downstairs to eat.
It turned out that Hank had developed a nasty cold, and was so congested that he couldn't smell anything, not even Miss Anne's pancakes.
Hank seemed extremely irritated at this, although Charles didn't understand that this was due to the fact that Hank would not be able to smell the telepath until he recovered. Charles simply put his irritation of as due to lack of sleep.
By scanning Hank's surface thoughts, Charles could glean that he'd spent all night working on helmets with Erik and Emma, but Charles knew that one didn't just 'figure out' how to make a psion-blocking helmet in a single night.
After breakfast, he showed his friends, which he kept trying to refer to as 'friends' in his head, the entirety of the house, including the bathrooms.
He saved the best for last however, and as they approached yet another door that they had passed more than twice before, Erik noticed Charles dip his hands into a pocket to pull out some keys.
"This," Charles said, unlocking the plain door, "is probably the mansion's most useful feature." Charles had reasoned that there was little point in hiding the bunker from the others, as he couldn't exactly just disappear into it without the others noticing. It would just raise suspicions.
He unlocked the door with practiced ease, and led them down the dimly lit staircase. The wallpaper was visibly older, and the carpeting that covered the stairs was worn with years of pattering feet.
At the bottom of the stairs was a small landing, and one side of the wall seemed to be made of thick steel.
Erik could tell that it was some very thick metal. He tapped in it. "What was this built for?" he asked.
Charles, who was right in front of him, tapped a few numbers into a panel on the side. "A nuclear bomb shelter," he replied, as the steel plate split in half and slid away on both sides. "My family has always been… prepared for the worst case scenarios."
Dumbstruck, everyone walked in, Charles sealing off the entrance behind them.
"That I can believe," Erik said. So this was what he had been sending before. It seemed almost bigger from the inside, with its roomy, brightly lit corridors.
"Is the electricity always on?" Hank asked, pointing to the bright lights that reflected the clean floors.
Charles shook his head. "It comes on when you enter the code to come in. There's also a generator room down here."
Hank whistled, and Charles showed them into his lab, which he had thankfully cleaned up the week before his lecture.
It was enormous, with a wide variety of scientific apparatus neatly arranged on four large work tables.
Hank turned to Charles. "Do you think I could-"
"You can move all your things down here of course," the professor said. It was as if Charles had read his mind.
Then he led them down the hallway. They stopped in front of another door, which Charles opened with the touch of a button. It slid open to reveal a large circular and domed room with foam mats laid out in squares along it. In a corner, if circular rooms could be said to have corners, weapons of all kinds were lined up along the wall. Guns mostly, but there were also knives, swords and foils. Alex even spotted a bow and quiver. Targets lay against the opposite wall.
Charles glanced at Raven, gauging her reaction.
"A training room?" she asked in amazement.
He nodded.
"My family has always been paranoid," Charles said, smiling as Raven ran inside like a child in a toy store.
"I can't wait to thrash you, Charles," she called from the middle of the room.
Charles let out a nervous laugh.
He showed them most of the bigger rooms, like the food storage. Most of the large rooms were completely empty however, and Charles' tour came to an end just in time for lunch: French onion soup.
It was over lunch that Emma pulled something unexpected.
As they sat, waiting for their soup to cool, Hank having removed his glasses to prevent them from steaming up by accident, Emma looked Charles straight in the eye.
"I'm afraid I haven't told you the extent of my powers," she said.
Everyone stopped blowing on their soup and looked up.
"I actually have two mutations," she said.
Charles looked surprised, and he leaned in, as if she were telling him her most important secret.
"I can turn into diamond," she said, "but I'm also a telepath."
His eyes widened and he looked to Hank and Erik before turning back to Emma. "When you turn into diamond, can you use your telepathy?" he asked, toying with his soup spoon excitedly.
Emma was clearly not expecting that question. "Uh, no-"
"I knew it!" Charles cried out. "My thesis was right," he laughed.
Hank could not help but suppress a grin.
Emma shook her head, obviously confused. "You aren't going to ask if I've been prying in your thoughts? I mean, I'm glad you're taking this well, but usually people are more," she shot him a pained look, "angry. Or offended."
Charles flashed her a smile. "Your power, your responsibility, and you strike me as being very mature."
A flash of guilt passed over her face. "I'm glad you think so," she muttered.
Charles skimmed her surface thoughts to see if he could discover why she had suddenly decided to reveal her power. He was met with a wash of guilt at her seeing the memory of he and Erik.
Charles decided not to pry further. After all, she had the right to keep secrets.
What was he saying? He did not need to develop a conscience, especially not now. Charles, you're basically a Soviet, he told himself, the Union, with all its people, need you to succeed more than you need to develop feelings of attachment.
Charles was about to take a discreet dive into her memories when he figured, You know what? She was probably feeling guilty that she saw your 'fantasies' and decided to own up.
Little did Charles know that Emma felt it safe to tell him, since they had created working helmets the night before.
Charles kept his face in a charming smile. "Out of curiosity, what did you discover in my head?"
"I… I never said I'd looked in," Emma said slowly, eyes narrowing. The others at the table looked back at Charles.
Charles shrugged. "Well I just assumed that since you didn't know my power, you would've gotten curious. I know I would have."
Alex gulped. Charles was almost too quick and perceptive. He looked at Emma.
"You caught me," she said, "but I didn't actually find out what it is," she continued in a rush to get the explanation out.
Charles sat back in his chair, face serious. He looked down, the image of withdrawal. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I'm not comfortable with it."
Charles enjoyed the way he could feel the moods of all Erik's friends drop at his lies. He loved the power he could leak out with just a few simple phrases.
Of course he was comfortable with his power. It was an extension of himself, more a part of him than a sixth sense.
Alex spoke up. "Actually," he said, "we kind of pressured her into it. Into looking, I mean."
Raven gave him a look, then added, "We're sorry."
Charles laughed, and felt the mood brighten again. "Don't be. I don't want to stop you from using your powers. What did you see? Anything of interest?" he asked.
Alex could barely contain a chortle, but he managed it by turning it into a cough. "Emma told us about…" he glanced around the table wickedly, "about Hank and Erik," he snickered.
Emma turned to swat him, while Charles, Hank and Erik all blushed.
"What did you see?" demanded Hank, all thoughts of delicious French onion soup forgotten.
Erik glanced across to Charles, who looked over at the exact same moment. Charles grimaced and mouthed, sorry.
Hank turned to Charles. "What did they see?" he asked quietly, over Emma shouting at Alex.
"Uh, I'll tell you later," Charles said, spooning scalding soup into his mouth. He hadn't actually expected Emma, Raven or Alex to actually say anything. He'd just wanted to embarrass them a little. He was never going to hear the end of this.
After lunch, they decided to go out and play in the snow again, although this time they worked together to build a monumentally large snow fort, with Alex carving out the innards with deadly precision.
They also made giant snowmen, but eventually their games degraded into an 'every-man-or-woman-for-themself' snowball fight.
Charles was barely paying any attention. He was being torn apart by an internal struggle. On the one hand, he and Erik had talked a lot over the course of their stay at the mansion, and that had only been two days. Not to mention that the rest of his friends, 'friends' rather, were some of the most interesting and fun people he'd met for two decades.
But on the other hand, Charles had a job. And his job was to stop his 'friends' from getting their hands on the 'assets' the Soviets were going to sneak into Cuba.
Once again, he cursed whichever informant had leaked the secret to the Americans. In his report, Charles had read that the shipment of missiles was to be handled with the utmost secrecy. They were planning diversions and fakeouts, and they'd brought a couple of telepaths onto the project for memory modification. Charles just didn't understand who could have possibly leaked the information. Months of planning, rendered next to useless. The Soviets had kept to it though, as not to alert the Americans that they'd caught on.
Granted, even the slightest whisper of a rumour of a half truth was enough to warrant an investigation these days, at least that was the case in Russia at the moment.
But that still left him with a problem.
He couldn't just abandon a side of the war that would lose without him. He also couldn't allow his enemies to progress with their cause, meaning he'd have to neutralize them somehow.
But doing that would take all the fun out of it, after he'd broken them. Charles was a man of action. He enjoyed the struggle of taking over someone's mind, and their emotional response when he did, but after a while, they just stopped resisting.
It was like puppets in a dollhouse. Charles could do anything he wanted, but there'd be no thrill in it.
For that reason, he felt torn about piloting Erik's team to their doom and demise. He'd hate himself. They were such kind people after all.
And they were his enemies.
But…
Before he'd disposed of his mission files, Charles had memorized that the missiles were to be shipped over during the late summer, which would be the perfect time for Erik's strike team to slip in.
That was in about six months.
That meant time. That meant he had time to spend and enjoy with the others.
But in the end, would he have the strength to cut it all off? He wasn't sure. Charles had no doubt he'd be able to subjugate Emma, Raven, Hank and Alex without too much conflict. He'd done it before. Too many times, some part of him said.
And it wasn't as if Charles wouldn't love to see and feel their repair and dismay at his sudden betrayal. Those moments were thrilling.
But would they be more thrilling than Emma's small smile? Or Alex's fits of laughter? Or Raven's transformation jokes? Or Hank's smile whenever he saw Charles?
Maybe now, Charles thought, unconsciously rolling a snowball. But in six months…
And then there was Erik.
Charles didn't know if this was some cruel joke played on him by the Russians, or if fate had been particularly vindictive the day he'd gotten his assignment.
This was where Charles started to mentally slap himself around.
If he was honest with himself, completely honest, Charles knew he wanted two very different things in regard to Erik alone.
Firstly, Charles desperately wanted the pure relationship that he and Erik had when they were younger, that incited such a bittersweet feeling in Charles' heart.
What's more, Erik had, if it were possible, become even more interesting than when they'd been children. Charles wanted to be able to sit with him for hours and hours, talking. He doubted that anything Erik had to say would be boring.
Then, there was what any other person would call their 'dark side', but Charles what acknowledged as the voice of reason that showed the most direct and effective approach.
He wanted Erik? Easy. Seep into his thoughts until you've mounded him to your pleasure, it said. You can have everything he has to offer without a struggle.
And he would be happy to do it.
He would do anything for you.
Charles would make him gladly relinquish any sense of self control, of willpower.
Charles was no stranger to this. He often enjoyed the rush of power it gave him, but later, he would often find himself alone, bored with his complete control over the other person it was no fun without a challenge.
Unlimited possibilities are limits unto themselves, he would think dryly. But then he'd do it again. And again.
It was oh so tempting.
And, the voice added, he would be completely and utterly yours.
Charles shivered, half with pleasure, the other half in self disgust.
It's not as if you haven't been manipulating him already, he reminded himself. But then again, this was different. He was letting Erik struggle. Charles himself was struggling. And they were both already more than content.
A snowball caught Charles in the shoulder, spraying snow dust in his face. It was Erik, and he was smiling.
It was so genuine that Charles instantly let go of his desire to have Erik for his own. I doubt I could have created that moment, had he been under my influence.
Then Charles mind snapped back to his mission. Could he influence Erik for the sake of the mission?
Charles didn't have an answer, but as he turned to face the rest of Erik's friends, faces bright and smiling, he knew he would at least be able to say with confidence that he would be staying until summer.
A few hours later found him lying under his covers for an early night's sleep yet again. Charles marveled at how much everyone had lowered his guard. If this was deepest darkest Russia, as he liked to call it, Charles would be checking the fortifications of his house, stocking up on supplies, and generally getting no sleep as to ensure that nothing caught him by surprise.
Tonight however, he was planning what to get Erik, Hank, Raven, Alex and Emma for Christmas.
Charles knew that Christmas had been two months ago. But he really felt that he should get them something, since-
Since I want to build up their trust in me. Make them more susceptible to manipulation, his rational part said.
Charles lay back into his pillow, and took a deep breath, quashing his emotions. He didn't need them right now.
What he needed…
Was to figure out what everyone wanted. He'd already chosen Hank's, Alex's and Emma's presents, but what could he get Raven and Erik?
Charles didn't want to check their thoughts unless his presents looked too uncannily like what they'd wanted.
Raven and Erik…
Wait. He had the perfect gift for Raven. And he wouldn't even need to leave the house to get it, not that he could legally get it anywhere, especially in the United States.
But Erik, he thought. What did Erik want?
Charles drifted to sleep, dreaming of houses and presidents and gold falling from the sky.
Hank's cold had not improved overnight. The fact that he'd gone outside the day before seemed to have made it worse. Hank's voice was clearly more nasal than usual, and everyone agreed that it would be perfectly fine if he stayed inside that day.
"You know, I might get started on that telepathy enhancer," he said, getting up from the table.
"Wait," Charles said. "I want to help you. I might be of some help," he added.
Hank grinned. Charles sensed that he was thinking of that time in the other lab.
Hank had already taken his things downstairs. The day before, Charles had lent him the key and the passcode.
The two of them hurried down the old staircase and into the bunker. After Charles had led them through a particularly confusing set of turns, they arrived at the lab.
Hank pulled out a plain helmet, but Charles waved his hand. "We don't need that yet," he said, "first, we need to figure out how to amplify telepathic waves."
Hank rubbed his nose thoughtfully. Emma would be good to have right now," he laughed.
Charles nodded. Well then it's a good thing you have me, he thought, repressing a chuckle. "It'll be fine. I suspect we just have to reverse the concept for the psion-blocking helmet."
Hank bit his lip. What would Charles know of helmets?
"I believe I got a hold of a report some years back," Charles said, sensing Hank's suspicion. He tried to slow his breathing, this was a very delicate situation. "From a cousin I have in Prague. They were performing preliminary shielding tests with a telepath who recognized that their power could one day become a threat."
Hank's eyes narrowed, but he took Charles' word. "Why do you have friends in the USSR?" he asked carefully.
Charles shrugged. "We were friends before the war and after my aunt died, he didn't have any parents. I've been helping him along, and he felt he owed me something. Either way, science has no borders."
Hank's gaze raked Charles' face, not entirely convinced. He was still too suspicious for Charles' liking.
"Can I ask you something, Charles?" Hank asked seriously, just as Charles was about to go back to his notepad.
"Anything, Hank," he replied absently, sketching out a helmet on the paper.
"You mentioned during your lecture that you'd been away from your studies for a while. Where were you?"
Oh, Hank. He was too trusting, even in his suspicion. Why do you have to put me in these situations? Charles felt like his chest was made of thick ice. The back of his throat stung. He wanted to tell the truth, he really did-
Charles looked over to Hank. "I… wait." Something dawned upon him. "Are you asking me this… Because you think-"
Hank backed away.
"You think I'm a spy?" Charles said, quietly and incredulously. His eyes widened even more. "You think I'm the telepath?"
Hank edged nervously to the other side of the table. "Charles," he warned. "Charles whatever you're going to do-" The telepath felt that Hank was forming rudimentary walls to protect his thoughts. He couldn't break through without revealing his power.
"Hank!" he snapped, "I can't," Charles paused, apparently too frustrated to complete his sentences. "I can't believe you," he said louder than necessary.
Now Hank began to flare up. "No, you don't understand! There's no one else it could possibly be," he roared.
Somehow Charles managed to yell louder. "Erik is my friend," he shouted. "I've thought about him every day for the past twenty years Hank! Every day I wish I could go back to having what we had. And you think that I would throw it all away? Hurt him? I thought you knew me better, Hank." His voice had begun clawing its way back into his throat halfway through. The last part had ended in barely a whisper.
Hank stared, and conflict rushed through him. On one hand, there were just too many coincidences. But Charles… There was no way he could have faked that outburst.
"I don't want to talk about my powers. I don't want to talk about where I've been. I'm sorry that I can't answer your questions."
Hank was still rooted in place, on the opposite side of the desk from where Charles was leaning over it. He didn't know what was right or wrong anymore. He was a bundled up flurry of guilt and conviction that didn't know whether to trust his instincts or facts or Charles Xavier. The fact that he secretly had a crush on him didn't help.
"Shit, I'm sorry Hank," Charles said, coming around the side of the table, "I didn't mean to do this, but I promise you. I'm not going to hurt any of you."
The shield that Hank had hastily raised weakened enough for Charles to slip through his defences.
Lies.
Hank's minds was still a flaring, roiling sea of worry, so Charles gently gave him a nudge in the 'right' direction, hating himself for doing so.
Emma's seen what Charles feels for Erik, so why would Charles ever hurt him? CHarles suggested
Hank's mind briefly flashed with a feeling that Charles interpreted as Soviets, but Charles stepped forward and placed a hand on Hank's shoulder, at the same time soothing his thoughts.
"Hank, I promise, by the time summer is up, I'm sure you'll know everything about me. I've got very loose lips when I've been drinking, you know. It's just I'm not used to being with other people, and sharing my life story," Charles said, face lightening.
The other man looked at him. "I believe you."
An old sparkle twinkled in Charles' eyes. "Let's go build ourselves an amplifier then," he said, clapping Hank on the back.
They went back to planning.
Charles wanted to scream. How could he have let them get so suspicious? He knew that he'd have to take chances in spilling information while they built the psion-amplifier, but he never thought that Hank would make any connections. What's more, why had he let himself into Hank's mind? His stomach felt full of acid at the thought of the lie he'd told his friend.
'Friend'.
Charles brushed the thought away. How was he going to stand lying to them for six more months? He vaguely wondered if he'd been drunk the night before.
He pointed to the helmet he'd drawn on the paper. "I'm not precisely sure how they make the field work, but I do know that the magnetic field reflects telepathic waves like a convex barrier would, reflecting the waves out in all directions. I was about to suggest a concave shape, but-"
Hank nodded. "It would still get blocked," he finished.
Charles nodded. Brilliant. "Not to mention that even if we manage to shoot the waves through the shield like a magnifying glass, it would only go in one direction."
Hank adjusted his glasses. "This is going to be a lot harder than I thought," he muttered.
Charles nodded, burying his head in his hands and massaging his temples. "We need to find a way to make the waves stronger, go further." He shook his head. "I think we have to work out how to boost the waves, not magnify them."
Hank looked up. "Wait."
Charles frowned.
"We shouldn't boost them or make them stronger."
"What?" Charles demanded.
"Think about it Charles, telepathic waves can go a long way, but a magnetic field goes across the whole world," Hank said, drawing it out on Charles' page.
Charles gasped. "Oh my God. Hank. Tell me you're thinking what I'm thinking." (Charles had already checked, and Hank was thinking exactly what Charles had thought he was thinking).
"Ride the magnetic field," Hank said, slapping the table.
"Let it carry the telepaths wave…" Charles breathed.
A moment passed as they both digested this revelation.
Then, Charles punched the air. "You are BRILLIANT!" he yelled. Pulling Hank over into the tightest hug he'd ever given anyone in his life.
Alex looked up from his cup of coffee. Beside him, Emma had also noticed something.
There was a shout from downstairs.
Raven's eyes flicked from her book up to Emma. There were a few moments of silence. Then they all went back to what they were doing.
Over the rim of his mug, Alex muttered something into his drink.
"What?" Raven asked, turning a page.
Alex looked over to where Erik was sitting, face hidden behind a newspaper. "Well, their scientific experiments seem to be going well," he said casually. "They seem to have made their first breakthrough."
Raven coughed, putting a hand to her lips to hide them. In the corner, Erik's hands were paler than usual.
A few minutes later, there was another yell, through which the word 'brilliant' was discernible.
"They have such good chemistry," Alex remarked, trying not to choke on his tea.
Erik folded his newspaper up and tossed it in the fire. "I'm going to my room. Call me down for lunch," he said shortly. The library door shut of its own accord as he left.
Emma rounded on Alex. "Firstly," she whispered viciously, "those puns are the worst scientific sex puns I've ever heard."
Raven laughed.
"Secondly," Emma continued, her eyes like rumbling storm clouds, "why would you say that they were having sex in front of Erik?"
Alex blanched. "Oh shit, I didn't think-"
"Exactly, blockhead, now Erik's going to think that Hank and Charles are together when I know for a fact that Charles would like nothing more than to be with Erik."
Alex fell back in his seat. He waited, wondering if it would be acceptable to ask his next question. He decided to chance it. "Are they doing it though?" he asked.
Emma glared at him. "No," she said. "And I don't need to use my power to check."
Charles was so excited that he could have slammed Hank down on the table right then and there. He wanted what a blond Russian colleague used to call 'victory sex' before he'd been murdered by the prostitute he'd hired, who'd turned out to be an American spy.
Charles contented himself with a hug.
"When to we start…?" Hank nearly choked.
Charles let go. "As soon as we figure out how to ride the currents."
"Alright, let's do that now."
They tried to come up with a way to make it work, but none of their ideas made much sense. Although Hank trusted that Charles didn't want to hurt them, he wasn't a fool. Hank knew that people lied and told half truths. He also knew that espionage, and not downright attack might not directly hurt he and his team, but it would be just as useful to the Soviets. He tried to push it out of his mind however, which was easy since he and Charles were so engrossed in completing the amplifier.
Charles trudged upstairs. It was midnight, and he hadn't eaten since breakfast, refusing to come out because he was so obsessed with the project.
A noise at the end of the hall caught his attention. Erik's room. Light shone out from under the door, but it flashed around. Someone was pacing inside. A quick use of telepathy showed it to be Erik, alone and angry.
I should do something, he thought. I'm supposed to be his friend, after all. But Charles knew that using his telepathy to soothe Erik's emotions would just delay the ticking time bomb.
Charles found himself outside Erik's door, all thought of friend vs 'friend' gone. He knocked.
Charles heard a sigh as Erik walked to the door. The door creaked open, and Erik's bright blue eyes appeared in the crack.
"Charles," he said, a slightly harsh tone creeping into his voice. "I suppose you want to come in," he continued, pulling the door open.
Erik's face hardened as Charles walked into the room. How could he have thought Charles would still love him after all this time? He'd thought that they could go back to what they had, but it seemed as though Hank had captured Charles' eye.
Jealousy rolled off him in waves, and Charles frowned, as if he could sense it. Erik turned to the window, determined to have Charles make the first move.
"Are you alright?"
The light voice, with its British accent came from right beside him. It took all of Erik's willpower to stop himself from turning and shouting at Charles, screaming no, no, I'm not.
"What's bothering you?"
"Nothing that should bother you," Erik replied, determinedly glaring out the dark window. He could see Charles reflected in the glass. He was beautiful, and it wasn't fair.
"Er-ik," Charles said in that singsong voice of his. "I can tell when you're lying."
Erik spun away from the window. "You want to know what I'm mad about?" he asked Charles in little more than a whisper, although at their proximity it made as much noise as a shout.
Charles followed him around the room, pacing next to him. "Tell me," he said.
"How is it that you manage to infuriate me to the point where I have to stay in my room all day?"
"Erik, I… What?"
"Don't say that. You're a clever man Charles." Erik was practically stomping his feet against the floor as they paced. "I fall in love with men. You fall in love with men."
Charles' eyes widened, "I never-"
"Don't pretend you don't Charles, don't you dare."
Charles opened his mouth to deny it but no words came out.
Erik continued. "When you saw me in the lecture hall, I could tell that you wanted us to be friends like we used to be just as much as I did."
Charles had gone completely white, eyes wide and bright blazing blue.
"Then we went for coffee, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, you were just like me. We could talk about it, be completely open. There would be no secrets."
Charles stopped pacing beside Erik.
"Now I find that you've gone off with Hank." Erik was not about to admit he'd been smitten with the memory of Charles for twenty years. He did not tell him he loved him. "...I feel as though I've been replaced," Erik said forcefully. "By someone you've known for barely a week."
Charles' mouth dropped open. "You think I slept with Hank?" he gasped.
Erik rolled his eyes, and imitated Charles' British accent. "Oh...brilliant!" he cried.
Charles' jaw dropped even further. "You think I made love to him in the lab?"
"Well judging from all the noise-"
"Erik Lensherr," Charles said in a voice like thunder striking the top of an active volcano. "I would never, ever, ever have sex in the lab. Nor have I been sleeping with Hank."
Erik gave him a long, hard look. Charles seemed to crumble for a second.
"Hank is nice, but I'm not," Charles shook his head. "I can't allow myself to think about him…like that."
Erik came forward until he and Charles were within a foot of each other.
"You know, I've been away for a few years, and where I was, no one would ever talk about- no one should ever talk about-" Charles interrupted himself, "Look. The point here is that I can't be-"
"I won't tell."
Charles laughed dryly. "They already know. Your friends, I mean. But," he raked his hands through his hair, "I've never actually acknowledged it out loud." If I don't say it, then I'm not. "I've always just-"
Charles snapped his fingers and thrust his pelvis forward in a crude demonstration.
Erik stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. It was like medicine to the soul in both cases. Erik's laughter was like a swift stream, washing over Charles and soothing him.
"We'll help you along, I promise," Erik said finally.
Charles had pursed his lips in a small smile. "Thank you," he said softly. He had been feeling tired, but now he felt more awake than ever.
He voiced this to Erik, who suggested that they play a little chess. Charles was excited. He hadn't played chess since he'd been stuck in a shack in deepest darkest Russia for a month. Even then, he'd had to play against himself.
"Let me see if I can remember how to play," Charles chucked, pulling up an armchair to face Erik's.
Erik had brought his own chess pieces. That should have warned Charles for what was about to happen.
Erik chose white.
Within a few minutes, Charles realized he had just been thrashed, as he spotted his queen in danger. He moved it to safety.
"Checkmate."
Damn. Never before in his life had he felt so humiliated by an ally (he'd been humiliated far worse by his enemies of course)-
Wait. No.
Erik was his enemy. He would do well not to forget that. But still…
"Well I'll be damned," Charles said, trying to keep his dignity all in one piece, or at the very least, a couple large ones. "Care for a rematch?"
Erik grinned like a shark.
This time, however, Charles was determined not to lose. He gently let his consciousness slip past Erik's basic defenses, and rested in a corner of his mind where he could effectively 'watch' Erik's thoughts pass by.
Erik chose white.
The moment Charles placed down his black piece, a knight, Erik's thoughts practically broke the sound barrier, they were flooding through so quickly.
Charles' opponent flashed through about a hundred plans of attack, siphoning off bad ones, before finally moving another white pawn.
Charles moved a pawn.
Again. Plans, eight moves ahead of the game, accounting for possibilities where Charles moved different pieces raced through Erik's mind. Even before Charles moved his knight again, Erik was still forming plans, although much slower than when Charles actually moved the piece.
The volume and speed of the thoughts were almost overwhelming, but Charles had years of practice reading quick thinking, scheming politicians, so he was able to process them just as quick as Erik.
Charles chose the paths that afforded him the least losses, but that was only slowing Erik down. He'd planned for it, and that was where Charles had gotten his ideas. Erik didn't plan to lose.
What hadn't Erik thought of? he wondered.
Only the moves that would make absolutely no sense whatsoever, he finished. Something no one would do.
Charles decided to give it a go. He pushed his knight forward. It could be attacked by half the pieces on the board, and there was nothing to avenge it if it fell. It was literally there for no reason other than to die.
Charles heard a loud, what the fuck? come from Erik's mind.
Then Erik's thoughts bubbled. Charles loved to see how he'd thrown him off, rattled him.
It must be a diversion… Or maybe...Is it a trap? Should I do it? Should I ignore it? Damn… What the hell? Maybe…
Erik ran through a series of maneuvers in his head, weighing the odds.
Eventually, he took the 'bait' and the knight was out.
Charles immediately pulled another crazy move. He was met with the same response, and although he was quickly losing his miniature army, he realized that he just needed to attack while Erik dealt with his 'distractions'.
The two of them sat in complete silence, mutely moving their chess pieces.
Finally Charles was left with a pawn and his king, while Erik chased them around with his knight, rook and bishop while his king watched from the sidelines.
Three moves later, Charles realized he was stuck.
"Damn," he said as Erik collected the checkmate. "We shall have to play again sometime," he said. And he'd thought that Erik would be all strength and determination and no planning. Charles nearly laughed.
Charles leaned back in the armchair. He hadn't realized he'd been sitting on the edge of his seat.
"Well that came as a slap in the face. Hank was right, you should be a grandmaster," he said.
It might have just been the light, but Charles swore he saw Erik blush.
"Thank you," Erik said, peering out of the darkened window. He was smiling, but then his lips tightened and he sighed.
"This whole Cuba thing. Is it bothering you? I mean, bothering more than a possibly deadly mission should?" Charles asked.
Erik blinked. Charles was remarkably perceptive. He nodded, not turning his eyes from the window. "I feel like there's something big that we don't know about."
"You mean the telepath?"
Erik nodded. "So many questions," he muttered to himself. He glanced at Charles, almost warily. They locked eyes.
Charles bit his lip. He wanted so badly to say something. Anything. He wanted to lie about his powers, just so Erik would stop looking at him that way, even though Erik was perfectly validated to do so. Instead, he said nothing.
"Ah well," Erik said, "I'll just sleep on it."
Charles didn't need to use his telepathy to figure out that Erik was not tired at all.
Erik got up from his armchair and started taking off his clothes.
Charles tried very hard to look away, but he could still see Erik in his peripheral vision, and he couldn't not look at Erik without completely turning around.
Damn damn damn no I'm not ready for this no no no no no I'm leaving I need to leave right now before he manages to unbutton his shirt all the way no no no, and other such thoughts flew through Charles' mind. He mentally blocked himself off from Erik, hoping, praying, that he wasn't doing it on purpose.
"I think-" Charles said, trying to make an excuse to leave, but Erik cut him off.
"Don't worry Charles, I'll only be few minutes. I'm just going for a shower." And with that, Erik walked out of Charles' field of vision, still half clothed. He heard the bathroom door open and close.
Charles gripped the arms of his armrest. What was happening. He couldn't just leave, but he couldn't, he would not, he refused to stay.
Erik stepped out of the shower about five minutes later, pulling one of Charles' fluffy white towels around himself. Of course the stunt with the clothes had been to impress Charles. Of course he had been dropping hints that Charles should stay in the room. Erik, although he would never admit it out loud, had thought he'd been rather smooth about it all.
Charles would have disagreed.
Erik quickly wiped his dripping hair, and walked back out. "Your turn," he called out.
Charles peeked his head out from around the armchair, then withdrew it twice as fast. "You know I have my own bathroom, Erik," he said, a slight quaver to his voice.
"Maybe," Erik said, walking in front of Charles' armchair, "but you'd have to wait for the water to get warm."
Charles took one look at Erik, semi-covered with his towel and looked down at his oak colored oxfords.
"Well I'm going to get changed so-" Erik began.
Charles practically fled to the bathroom.
Erik heard the lock click shut. The metal lock.
Charles had a long shower. The kind of shower people use to think about deep and troubling matters, halfheartedly scrubbing shampoo into their hair and forgetting to wash their armpits.
He was completely stunned. Why on earth was Erik being so forward with him? Charles hadn't known what to expect. Obviously, when you pay a prostitute, or just do a quick one-timer in the back room, you expect things to happen fast.
Charles had thought that normal people had to work towards sex for months. Slowly dropping hints and clues and falling in love and all that.
Maybe it's just different in America, he thought. Or maybe he doesn't actually want to sleep with me. Maybe he's just trying to be nice.
Either way, it must be different in America.
Charles absentmindedly turned off the water. What had he gotten himself into? he thought as he reached for a towel.
There was no towel.
Charles said something very nasty about Erik in Russian.
No way was that an accident. Erik had not left him a towel on purpose. Charles knocked at the bathroom door. "Erik," he called, "would you mind getting me a towel from my room? I'm afraid there aren't any left." He'd decided he'd best play it aloof for now.
"Alright, I'll be back in a bit," Erik said, from right outside the door.
Erik returned two minutes later. Charles unlocked the door and stuck his hand out through the tiny gap for the towel.
Something touched his hand. "I couldn't find any pajamas in your room, so you can have mine," Erik said, pressing some clothes into Charles' hand. Charles flushed bright pink. Erik didn't know that he slept in just underwear.
Charles pulled the pajamas in and laid them on the sink counter, then put his hand out again.
"Towel, Erik," he reminded him. He felt the fuzzy thing being placed in his hand. He pulled it back quickly and closed the door, making sure to lock it.
He hurriedly dried himself, then pulled on the clothes, red and white with navy blue trousers.
Charles took a second before unlocking the door. How was he going to get out of Erik's room. He decided to use telepathic force if necessary.
Charles unlocked the door and pushed it open, carrying the towel slung over an arm.
Erik sat on top of the bed in dark green and red pajamas, clutching his jar of coins.
"You look like Christmas threw up," Charles remarked.
Erik snorted. "You look like Russian propaganda."
Charles coughed, looking at himself. It's like he knows. "More like Uncle Sam, or the Union Jack," Charles said, pulling at his navy pants. "But at least you admit you have terrible taste."
Erik snorted, and patted a stretch of bed next to him. "Sit. We never really finished catching up at that coffee shop."
A wave of relief rolled over Charles. Erik wasn't expecting to make love. Praise whoever is watching over me, he thought, sitting cross-legged next to Erik on the bed.
He had a sudden blast of nostalgia. He remembered sitting on his bed in England with Erik, cross legged, exactly like this, counting their coins.
"So do you still collect?" Charles asked, indicating the jar he had given Erik last time.
Erik laughed. "Of course! Do you?"
Charles nodded. "I've seen some pretty odd things while keeping an eye out for them."
Erik raised an eyebrow. "Really? Tell me."
Charles launched into a story while Erik leaned back to listen. Then Erik told an anecdote of his own.
They continued this for a long while until Charles yawned. Erik blinked, then looked down at his watch. "It's three in the morning," he said, almost incredulously.
Charles nodded. "You should get some sleep," he said.
Erik blinked. He did feel tired, but felt like he should be the one to tell Charles to get some sleep instead of the other way around.
"Actually Charles," he began, words slurring slightly.
"Sleep. I'll be right here," Charles said, patting the pillow beside him and shifting into a comfortable position.
Erik nodded and pulled the covers over himself. Charles sat on top of them, waiting for him to fall asleep. He reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, and the two of them sat in silence until Charles felt the rise and fall of Erik's chest against his knee fall into a slow and steady rhythm. He hadn't used any of his powers.
Charles sat in the dark. A tear rolled down his face.
When Erik woke early the next morning, he found himself alone in bed, without so much as a warm patch to remind him that Charles had ever been there.
Charles disappeared from the house for a whole day. The snowplows had halfheartedly scraped away most of the main road, and he'd taken Alex's car. He'd left a note that said he was going shopping, but absolutely no one believed it. Although Hank tried to reassure everyone by retelling what had happened in the lab, it wasn't helping very much.
Erik wasn't sure how long they could go on half trusting Charles. In the beginning he would have placed his life in Charles' hands. Now after what everyone else had told him, he wasn't so sure. Even more unsure after last night.
The evidence was overwhelming, or at least, the 'coincidences' were stacking up far too high.
Emma managed to convince Hank that each of them should have a helmet in their rooms, just in case. No one objected when they neglected to leave one in Charles' room and just left it in a store room in the bunker. Even Hank didn't object, although Erik could tell he'd been seriously considering it.
So when Charles did return, carrying thick brown parcels, Erik half expected them to be time bombs.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Charles sat them all down on the sofa next to the fire and placed the packages on the coffee table. There were quite a lot of them.
Charles sat opposite them, on the other sofa. "So I went out to get you all gifts, seeing as I didn't know you at Christmas," he said, somewhat breathlessly. That was a lie, of course, Charles vividly remembered rereading everyone's files while he ate reheated duck in gravy surrounded by soggy vegetables.
There was a long silence. "Oh, right," Charles said. He passed two small packages over to Alex. Then he passed two slightly smaller parcels to Emma, a very heavy present for Hank, along with a thick envelope. A tall cylindrical parcel, and slim squishy one for Erik, and a single, yet oddly heavy parcel to Raven.
"Now you have to try and guess what they are," Charles said, grinning and turning to Alex.
Alex quickly regained his composure after he'd lost it when he'd been handed the small parcel. "Um, alright," he said, examining it. It was very heavy. After a few moments, he shrugged. "No clue," he said. He glanced at the other small package. "No clue at all."
Charles laughed and turned to Emma.
"Not sure what this is," she said, indicating the slim box, then she picked up her other parcel. It wasn't a box. "Since it's squishy I'm guessing it's some kind of clothing..." She frowned. "But some parts are hard," she added. She looked at Charles and shrugged.
Charles looked at Hank. "Well mine is solid, but it's got ridges down the side, so... books, I'm guessing," Hank said.
"And the envelope?" Charles asked.
"You don't seem like the kind of man to just give out money, but that's my best guess," Hank replied, bemused.
Charles just smiled at him before turning to Erik.
Erik smiled back. "This," he said, patting the cylindrical package, "is an empty container, and these," he waved towards his slim parcel, "are probably clothes."
Charles turned to Raven, who shook her box and listened to the rattle. "No clue," she said after a moment.
Charles beamed. "Alright then, let's open them," he suggested.
Alex tore open the larger of his two packages first. "Whoa," he said, as a brand new pocket radio slipped into his lap. He held it up to the light. "This doesn't look like a normal one, Charles. Where did you get it?"
Charles bit his lip, trying to keep his smile under control. "It's a modified five-transistor radio. I took it to a workshop and asked them to make it better. Yours can pick up a lot more frequencies now, and it has a wider range to receive them."
Alex nearly tumbled over the table to hug him. "This is amazing," he said, flicking on the instant-on button. "Holy wow, this is a lot better than the old tube ones," he said, showing it off to Emma. He eagerly reached for the second package.
He pulled it open, finding a small note and a box containing needle and thread.
"I thought of the emergency sewing kit because Hank told me you often have trouble repairing your old uniform. I know it's really thick. That needle was the hardest I could find, and I'm quite sure that the thread is stronger than a fishing line," Charles explained hurriedly.
Alex nodded slowly, attention focused on the small card. "Um Charles, you don't-" Alex looked up at everyone and read out what Charles had written on the card.
Alex. If and when you manage to crash your car, I will buy you a new one.
Signed, Charles Xavier
"Merry Christmas," Charles said, moving on to Emma before Alex could figure out how to work his mouth again.
Charles watched with baited breath as Emma neatly tore open the first package and pulled out a velvet box. She opened it and let out an involuntary gasp.
She gently reached in a hand and pulled out a glittering chain. A diamond necklace.
"I thought it would suit you," Charles said. "But I think you'll prefer the other present."
Mutely, Emma picked up the other package and numbly pulled apart the wrapping paper. A silk scarf poured out like pure white foam from a rushing river, and a pair of earmuffs tumbled out after them.
Emma felt the muffs. "They're so soft!" she exclaimed.
Charles smiled, relieved that she liked his presents. "They're rabbit fur," he said.
Emma went over to hug him in a more dignified manner than Alex had.
Hank started tearing his gift open the moment Emma had sat back down. He ripped open a section of the wrapping paper to partially reveal the cover of what seemed to be a thick book.
"Charles, you are-" Hank was at a loss for words as he finished pulling off the wrapping paper and held up the book.
It was a hand-bound volume with an aged leather cover, and the words Collected Essays, Annotated, Charles Xavier.
"Fucking annotated," Hank whispered, as if he had just been handed the first draft of the Bible.
Hank just stared at Charles' smile for a few moments while everyone around them held back laughter. Then he picked up the letter with one hand, afraid that Charles' essays would disappear if he didn't make sure it was there.
He awkwardly tried to open the letter with one hand, but then Emma took pity on him and helped him hold it down.
Hank drew out a very expensive looking piece of paper upon which was a long letter written with long words and remarkable penmanship.
While Hank was reading it, Charles cleared his throat. "It's a letter of recommendation," he said.
"'To any whom it may concern'," Hank whispered reverently, citing the opening line.
"It'll get you into any private library in the world... I think. Anywhere that has heard of the Xavier's at any rate," Charles explained. "It could probably get you into a whole lot more places than just libraries though, I made not to word it too specifically."
Erik broke the awed silence with a booming laugh. "Charles, is it just my imagination, or do you make an effort to be hilarious?"
"I try Erik. I try."
Erik grinned. "My turn, then," he said, taking his slim package first.
There was a loud ripping noise, and Erik drew out-
"Pajamas, Charles? Really?"
Charles shrugged. "I do try remarkably hard to be funny," he said. There was a pause. "You can go ahead and laugh now," he added.
Erik snorted, hugging the maroon pajamas with grey polka-dots to his chest and reaching for the tall cylinder. He peeled off the brown paper and said, "I knew it."
Erik pulled out a large, empty glass vase. There was a tag attached to the lid. It read:
To fill together.
Erik's face was unreadable as he looked up at Charles. They locked eyes, and Charles saw something in Erik's eyes, the bluest sky he'd ever seen.
"Thank you," Erik said, and Charles could tell he was trying to conceal how much it meant to him.
Not for the first time, Charles nearly told them everything, but years of resisting his base urges kept his mouth clamped shut.
Then it was Raven's turn. She pulled off the wrapping in one swift moment and gawked at the silvery pistol that tumbled out.
"That's not a Nagant, is it?" she asked, holding it up to her face for closer inspection.
"It is, but with a few modifications that make it...uh... not as obsolete," Charles said with a smile. "I thought you might like it because it has a built-in silencer."
"I don't usually go in for guns," Raven said, pursing her lips. She held the barrel up to a golden eye. "But the craftsmanship on this is rather nice," she conceded.
"For luck," Charles suggested. She nodded, flashing him a small grin.
"I'm sure we're going to need it."
Everyone thanked Charles once again for their presents and went off to enjoy them in the library. Charles picked up an old book and sat in the corner. Alex was holding his radio to his ear, ignoring the fact that there was a radio only a few feet from the fireplace, and Hank was curled up in an armchair by the fire, poring over Charles' essays.
With his telepathy, he could sense Emma and Raven downstairs in the training room, trying out Raven's new handgun. He felt Erik upstairs, putting the jar on his dresser and emptying his spare change into it.
Charles lost himself in the book he was reading. It was one of those espionage thrillers, the kind that feature the archetypal British secret service agent covertly meeting up with a member of the CIA to compare notes about the KGB. Although most of it was completely made up, there were a few parts that were almost perfectly accurate, such as where along the Thames river they would meet and what food the British agent would bring to eat at that small bench for two. Charles couldn't speak for the American, but he was sure that the small details were just as accurate.
In fact, the author was a retired British agent himself. The book had been signed, and he'd even scrawled a short note inside the front cover:
To Charles,
The next time you fuck up my intel, I will personally sacrifice you to the beast under the Kremlin. Other than that, I owe you quite a few for Berlin.
Edward Owen
Mmm, Berlin, he thought, looking as if he'd just bitten into a lemon slice. Eddie hadn't known that he'd been working for the Soviet Union back then. Still, he reminded himself, I saved him from getting shot about fifteen times.
He was just getting to the good part when someone tapped his shoulder and he started, slamming the book shut. Too late, he realized he'd lost his page.
"Yes Hank?" he asked, flustered, trying to find it again while attempting to not accidentally spoil himself.
"I was going to work on the wave connectors, want to come?"
Charles put the book aside. "Of course!" he said, putting down The Fourth Agent and letting Hank lead the way down to the bunker where they passed Raven and Emma.
As Charles bent over a pile of scrapped copper and notes, he thought he'd never felt so genuinely content in the presences of his foes.
He took a deep breath in. He was going to have the best six months he'd had in years.
They made quite a bit of progress that afternoon. So much so that Hank even decided to postpone his trip to the warehouse to work on the jet, just to work on the telepathy booster that they playfully named Cerebro.
