Erik swiped his right hand across the bathroom mirror removing the condensation created by his early morning shower to reveal his reflection staring back at him.
He looked into his own steel blue eyes for a few moments before he looked down to the sink and when he lifted his head to gaze up to his reflection again, seconds later, placed his toothbrush in his mouth and started brushing slowly and methodically as he closed his eyes and let his mind wandered to the events of the night before…
Of Charles and their reunion.
Of the words that passed between them and the kiss they had shared.
He had feelings for Charles for so long.
He had wanted to kiss Charles for so long.
And after all the time that had passed and all that had happened between them, it finally felt good to act on his impulses.
Erik involuntarily smirked as he opened his eyes again and leaned forward on the sink, continuing to move his tooth brush in slow deliberate movements with his left hand as he looked down to his right forearm and the bold X tattoo above his wrist.
The X was for Charles Xavier—his link to the telepath when their mental link had broken away so many years ago.
When he got the tattoo, it became the physical reminder of Charles that he needed, representing how he had gotten underneath the metal benders skin from the beginning and how he would somehow always be there with him.
Many days, Erik needed it to focus-to calm and center his mind.
It truly did help him find the point between rage and serenity.
Not always.
But, more times than not.
Erik closed his eyes again and smiled.
But, that didn't seem like the only link they shared anymore.
Since he returned to his hotel room last night, he swore he could feel Charles' familiar presence brushing the back of his mind once more.
It was something he hadn't felt in nearly a decade and to say that he had missed it would have been an understatement.
For twelve years he had practically craved it.
When he and Charles had lived and worked together all those years ago, it seemed like it was always there—a gentle, comforting sensation in the back of his mind, putting him at ease and calming his always turbulent feelings and thoughts.
Raven and Hank once admitted to feeling it, too.
It was necessarily mind control…More like a friendly and loving gesture from Charles to let his friends know that he would always be there with them. To help and to guide them when ever they needed it.
Was it possible that Charles was there with him now?
Could he read his thoughts at that very moment?
For the first time since their bitter parting in Cuba, Erik found himself deciding that if Charles was in his head, he would gladly never wear his helmet again.
In fact, he may just tell him so when he goes back to the mansion tonight.
It was just then that a sound broke his thoughts and Erik straightened and peeked around the bathroom door toward the source of the noise.
It was his hotel room phone and it was ringing off the hook.
Erik furrowed his brow, then turned back toward the sink and spit out the toothpaste in his mouth before setting the toothbrush on the counter and walking out to the telephone on the bedside table.
Keeping one hand on the towel wrapped around his waist, he took a seat on the edge of the bed and picked up the receiver with the other and brought it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Good Morning, Mr. Camden," a woman's voice chimed, using his alias, "This is the front desk. I have three gentlemen down here in the lobby. They say that you are expecting them."
Erik's eyes shifted to the small alarm clock next to the phone.
8:00 am—a little too early for Senator Buckley and Governor Rockefeller's aides to have arrived for their scheduled meeting…
Erik cocked his head in thought for a moment then said, "Tell them I will meet them in the café in ten minutes."
"Yes, Sir," the woman responded and Erik could hear the trained smile in her voice, then she hung up.
Erik pulled the receiver slowly from his ear, listening to the dial tone as his mind raced, still contemplating just who exactly was downstairs waiting for him.
It was only when he had finally lowered the headset back on the cradle that he realized that somewhere, deep inside, his gut was telling him to run.
# # # # # # # #
"Mr. Camden will be down shortly," the young, red-headed receptionist said after she had hung up the phone, smiling toward the three men standing on the other side of the desk in the otherwise quiet lobby, "The café just opened. You are welcome to wait for him there—"
"Fräulein…" The shortest of the three men said in a thick German accent, then scoffed as he stepped forward, coming so close to the desk that the receptionist could now see her own reflection in the black horn rimmed glasses he wore, "I don't have time to waste on formalities or waiting in Cafes. I'm sure Mr. Camden wouldn't mind if we visited his room."
"I'm sorry, Sir," The receptionist said, putting on her best customer service smile, but secretly growing nervous by the second, "We only host VIP guests and hotel policy does not allow for us to give out room or telephone numbers. We may call up to the guests' room or take messages or you may have an escort take you up if invited, surely you understand—"
Suddenly, there was a shadow looming over her shoulder and the receptionist stopped in mid-sentence, casting her eyes back and realizing that one of the larger men, the two handsomer of the three that she had sworn were magazine fashion models when they walked in, who had been standing on either side of horn rimmed glasses had rounded the other side of the desk and was now standing behind her.
"Please, Fräulein …." the man in the horn rimmed glasses said, now leaning across the desk so that his blonde hair gleamed under the florescent lights and the laugh lines on his middle aged face were now visible, "It is you who must understand. I have been waiting a very long time to meet this man. So…"
It was then that the receptionist heard what she thought was gun cocking behind her and her fear was confirmed when it was pushed into her back, causing her gray eyes to widen behind her false eyelashes.
"Mr. Camden's room number and an escort to take us there," the man in the horn rimmed glasses smirked menacingly, "If you would be so kind."
# # # # # # # #
Erik was pretty sure that if he had clocked it, he would have found that it had only taken him about one minute and thirty seconds to dress and hastily pack his brown leather duffel bag.
Then, after cautiously opening his room door and looking quickly up and down the deserted hallway, he stepped out and closed it behind him, then raced to the end and used his powers to break the lock on the doorway to the back maintenance stairwell just as he heard the doors from the main elevator open nearby.
As he bounded down the ten flights of stairs, Erik cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed.
He wasn't.
When he reached the bottom, he looked through the small glass window in the center of the door that led out to the back loading dock and, after deciding it was all clear, pushed it open and hurriedly walked out.
It was just as he was turning the corner to walk out of the mouth of the alley and onto the main street to hail a taxi cab, that Erik found his path blocked by a large figure and the metal bender was soon staring up at a tall, muscular young man with dark hair and dressed in a long gray trench coat that covered a very expensive looking suit.
Erik swiftly turned on his heel and found himself looking up at another large mammoth of a man, seemingly identical to the one on the other side of him.
It was only after a moment's thought that he realized they were twins.
The man in front of him reached swiftly into the front of his coat and pulled his gun.
In response, Erik immediately dropped his duffel onto the brick sidewalk beneath his feet and lifted his hands to use his powers to take the weapon.
But, just then, he felt a large arm wrap around his waist and another wrap itself around his neck in a choker hold from behind, distracting him from disarming the other man.
Erik gasped and struggled as he realized that the large goon's twin behind him had taken advantage of his back being turned and had grabbed him.
He then felt himself spun around and was now facing a shorter middle aged man with blonde hair and horn rimmed glasses as the second brother came forward and, reaching between Erik and his captor, quickly bound his hands tightly and uncomfortably behind his back.
Then he felt a prick on the side of his neck and his body relax.
Great.
They had drugged him.
No escape now.
At least, not with his powers.
The man then walked forward to join the man in the horn rimmed glasses and handed him Erik's duffel bag.
The blonde man smirked as he watched Erik continue to try struggle in his bodyguard's grasp, working in vein against the fast-acting muscle relaxer he had been given.
He then turned his attention to unzipping every pocket of the brown leather duffel and proceeded to rummage through it as if actively looking for something.
When he didn't find it, he let out a disappointed sigh then tossed the duffel back to the bodyguard at his side roughly before stepping forward and looking Erik up and down with a look of contempt.
As he came closer, something about him seemed familiar to the metal bender… if he could only place it.
But, something in the back of Erik's mind also told him that when he did remember, he would not like the memories it invoked.
Erik swallowed back the lump that suddenly formed in his throat and continued to work against the drug he was given, trying in vain to get free as he spat, "Who the Hell are you?"
"Sie erinnern sich nicht?" the man in the horn rimmed glasses smirked, speaking in the native tongue of Erik's youth and watched the metal benders eyes widen as he froze.
Erik's fears were suddenly confirmed.
This was going to be bad.
When Erik didn't respond to his initial question, his counterpart sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest as he spoke in a thick accent, "Oh…I'm a little hurt, Mr. Lensherr because, truth be told, I remember you. But, then again, what has it been? Thirty years? You were just a young boy then…so understandably your memory will not be as clear as mine. But, truth be told, I have been searching for you for a very long time."
Erik narrowed his eyes and the man in the horn rimmed glasses could see them visibly brewing, still trying to connect this man to any memory from his youth.
"I'll make this short and simple. I want two things," he spoke again, now pacing in a circle around Erik and his human prison, as he held up the first and second finger on his right hand, "First, I want to know where the money is."
"Was für Geld?" Erik asked, trying to act nonchalant
The man in the horn rimmed glasses chuckled as he placed his hands behind his back and rolled on the back on his heels as he stopped his circling and stood directly in front of Erik once more.
"Don't be coy with me. My brethren and I have been aware of your activities for some time...ever since your murder and torture of Biergen Smeigel in Austria fifteen years ago—a masterpiece, by the way—truly. Its ironic, though," The man said, stopping and tapping his lip in thought, "The Erik Lensherr I knew so many years ago would not be capable of such violence—he was always on the receiving end of the violence—"
"And because of that violence, I'm not a child any more," Erik replied darkly, "I'm a monster."
"Oh...I know," The man in the horn rimmed glasses reaffirmed," We have been watching from the shadows as you've slaughtered your way across Europe, killing and torturing several former prominent members of the National Socialist Party and emptying their life savings accounts in the twenty five year war to avenge your family."
"Mordgeld!" Erik interjected harshly, then translated the phrase into English, "Not 'life savings'-that something you earn. It was blood money. Money earned on the backs of Jews, Gypsies and all those the precious Fuhrer deemed unworthy to bask in the glory of his reich!"
"I'm not here for a lecture or a history lesson, Mr. Lensherr. Like you, I lived it. I just want the money," the man countered, his eyes narrowing, "It belonged to my colleagues and I rightfully and you stole it. And I will find out where it is one way or another..."
"And what is the second thing you want?" Erik challenged, his nostrils flaring
Nazis...
He should have known his past would come calling sooner or later.
The man in the horn rimmed glasses took a deep breath and shifted his feet as he took a step back.
"I would like to know the location of Dr. Charles Xavier," he answered coolly
"What?" Erik blinked, surprised.
What would a former Nazi possibly want with Charles?
"Dr. Xavier," the man re-iterated, "I want to know his whereabouts. I want you to take us to him."
"Why?" Erik asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I know that you two were once friends and allies and he is currently in possession of something I want very much. Have you been in contact with him recently?"
"No," Erik lied
"Tisk, tisk, Mr. Lensherr," the man in the horn rimmed glasses chastised, waiving a finger as he cocked an eyebrow, "You are a terrible liar just like your father. And besides, we've been tailing you. We know that you arrived last night and immediately left your hotel room, presumably to see Dr. Xavier, who we know is here somewhere in New York—„
"Have you tried a phone book?" Erik quipped with a wicked smile
He suddenly felt a large hand slap across his face for his insolence and when he opened his eyes, saw the large body guard step back to the side of the man in the horn rimmed glasses.
"Cute, Mr. Lensherr. But a phone book—nor city records will help us. We've tried that, sad to say, and somehow, after the CIA drafted him for his 'special talents' ten years ago, all records on him have simply disappeared and we have no way of locating him."
"If I knew, I would never tell you where he is..." Erik breathed, his face turning serious again as he flexed his sore jaw
"Now, don't try to be the hero in the story, Mr. Lensherr," his counterpart sighed in frustration, "You will save us a lot of time and effort, and pain and suffering for yourself, if you take us to the telepath now and get him to give us what we want," then slipped easily back into German, "Wahrheit ist, seine eigene Belohnung. Ya? "
Erik suddenly jerked back as the phrase finally triggered his memory and his mind flooded with flashing images...
Images of a young blonde officer with clear spectacles and the same strong facial features, dressed in a Nazi officers uniform, entering the synagogue in their ghetto with his small band of SS soldiers when Erik was nine.
Erik remembered he had been at the synagogue that day to help Rabbi Sveldmann and when the men entered, the old rabbi motion had silently to him to stay in the worship loft where he was and hide.
It was from there that he witnessed the Nazi officers forcing the rabbi to summon a creature Erik had only heard about a handful of times in Jewish teachings—a golem.
When the golem arrived it originally attacked the officers, then stopped when the blonde man in the glasses threatened the rabbi, and with a gun held to his head, forced him to stop the golem and say the ancient incantation to make him cease and assist.
When the golem stopped, the man forced the rabbi to turn over the incantation that would allow the Nazis to have control over the golem and have it do their bidding instead of what the rabbi had originally created the golem for—to fight off the Nazis that came into the ghetto to take the Jews there to the work camps.
Wahrheit ist,seine eigene belohnung the blonde officer spoke in a menacing voice before ordering the golem to kill the rabbi.
Erik could still hear the mans screams in the back of his mind as he was ripped apart by the creature in the holy temple.
"You are GHOUL..." Erik whispered finally, coming to his senses and his eyes widened in realization that the man was part of the famous Nazi occult...
Then and even now, it seemed.
"Yes..." the man smiled a devilish smile
"No..." Erik said adamantly, suddenly realizing what the GHOUL could want with Charles
"Gunnar..." The man suddenly turned and signaled to the bodyguard standing next to him, "It's time we go."
"No..." Erik whimpered, struggling hard as the man tossed the duffel bag in his hands aside and now reached into his coat pocket as he stepped past the man in the horn rimmed glasses toward the metal bender.
"NO!" Erik screamed when the man produced the black hood that the GHOUL where famous for and immediately found himself searching his mind for Charles, secretly hoping like hell the the telepath had formed a connection with him as Erik called out to him telepathically and aloud hoping it would reach him, "Charles!"
Then the hood was thrown over his head and everything went dark.
# # # # # #
"Charles!"
Charles gasped as he his eyes opened and he surged forward, sitting up in bed with a start.
His first awareness was of a loud voice ringing in his mind and in his ears.
It sounded like Erik.
But, then Charles felt a hand on his shoulder and soon realized that Hank was sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, also calling his name to rouse him.
"Charles!" Hank said loudly in a commanding tone , bringing the telepath's groggy eyes to focus on him.
Charles stared at him for a few moments through hooded eyelids, then groaned and ran a hand through his hair as he fell back against the pillows again, "Wh—what is it, Hank? And why so loud and urgent?"
"Well," Hank immediately reported, "Loud because you were sleeping like the dead and urgent because..." he suddenly trailed off, reaching over to the bedside table and plucking up Charles alarm clock before hovering it over his face so that the telepath could see the time.
"Holy, shit!" Charles cried suddenly as he forced himself to sit up in bed again, throwing the sheets off of himself, "It's nearly 8:30! I'm late for class! I've got the 'Wizard of Oz' lecture and discussion with the children this morning and I—"
"Overslept?" Hank offered as he replaced the alarm clock back on the table, "Yep. Big time. The students are already waiting for you in your study. I just hope that there is a study left by the time you get there. There definitely isn't any breakfast left..." he chuckled jokingly as he leaned forward and Charles threw his arm over the young scientist's shoulder and Hank pulled him to the side of the bed to stand.
"Ah...the joys of living with teenagers..." Charles sighed, wiping the sleep out of his eyes with a small smile as Hank lifted him and helped him into the nearby bathroom.
"Speak for yourself," Hank quipped, remembering the events that he walked in on with Erik and Charles the night before, "Making out with the man who used to be your best friend, then your alley, then your nemesis and now your...well, I don't know what he is now."
"I say again..." Charles smirked, "The joys of living with teenagers."
And Hank burst out laughing as he pushed open the bathroom door with his free hand
