A/N: I had this chapter pretty much typed out and proofread in beforehand so I DID manage an update this week. (cheers) Yay?
Before getting to the business, though… THANK YOU, several times over, for your fantastic reviews and support for this story! You're fantastic. (HUGS)
Awkay, before I get all sappy… Let's rock! I truly hope that you'll have a good ride.
Lost Souls
Three Months Later
Since his childhood Erik had always been on a mission.
At first it was surviving the camps that he strived for, to stay alive so that one day he'd be able to pay back what'd been done to him and his family. Then his ambition was to finish off Shaw, to make the monster feel every little bit of the agony that was once inflicted on him. And now… Now it was Charles.
After three months his dysfunctional little team was barely any wiser than they were to begin with. They searched and searched, kept switching locations so fast that they'd long since lost count. Avoided the people they helped, once upon a time. While such a long, gruelling mission should've brought them closer to each other it just wouldn't work.
Sean was wary and insecure. Alex was mistrusting and furious. Hank was still angry and resentful, and although Erik knew that he should've been the adult of the two he wasn't much better. Not with all the fear and frustration swirling inside him. Raven's moods kept swinging so fast that it wasn't possible to stay on track. She was terrified, worried, furious, guilty and sad, sometimes all at once. The boys, especially Hank, didn't know how to be around her and she didn't seem to know how to be around them or Erik. She'd isolated herself and it would've taken Charles to pull her out.
Damn it all, they would've needed the telepath.
It was Charles' stupid idea, all of it. These teens. The school. The whole mess. How the hell was Erik supposed to know what to do when it was all falling apart right before his eyes?
And if Erik dared to be honest with his own feelings he missed Charles so much that it hurt. After the first couple of weeks he ditched the helmet, desperate to catch even the smallest shimmer of a familiar mind. There was nothing but silence and he couldn't avoid thinking what it meant although he tried to stop himself.
Where was Charles? What were they doing to him? Was the telepath even…?
No. He'd know if Charles was… gone. He refused to believe that someone who'd become his whole world could just disappear from existence without him having a clue.
The nights were the worst. Nightmares came whenever he dozed off, some of them repeating over and over again all the physical and emotional pain he put Charles through. Others were filled with the professor crying out desperately for him. Those were, perhaps, the worst. In the end Erik tried to avoid sleeping altogether. Not that it would've been a much better alternative. Fatigue made everything feel a thousand times worse than it already was and those restless hours of the night gave him too much time to think. To mull over 'what ifs' and 'could've beens'. The last words he ever heard from Charles, telepathically but still, kept echoing in his head.
/ 'Erik, wait! I…' /
He tortured himself endlessly with wondering what, exactly, the telepath tried to say. And then, of course, there was a even more dangerous question. Would he ever find out?
That very early morning Erik sauntered restlessly to the kitchen of their current hideout. He fully expected to find it empty. That's why there was a uncharacteristic falter in his steps when he discovered Hank.
Observing the scientist Erik frowned, trying to put the pieces together. There was a mountain of newspapers before the blue furred mutant while the younger man made notes at a frantic pace. Those eyes eyes were practically gleaming with excitement.
"What are you doing?" he inquired.
"Get the others." Hank's tone was clipped but for once not hostile. "I just noticed something."
Staring at the ceiling of his small, white room Charles held his breath for twenty seconds, then inhaled before pushing the air back out violently. He repeated the routine five time until he felt so dizzy that he had to stop. Sitting up with a bit more difficulty than he'd expected he faced his reflection from the mirror that covered almost one third of the opposite wall. On most days it bothered him. But sometimes, like today, he found himself getting lost into his thoughts.
One of the first things he discovered was that he was a telepath. He didn't like the helmets everyone wore around him but understood. His powers… hadn't been exactly in the best of control until about five weeks earlier and he still got hellish headaches several times a day. He knew his age, albeit only because he'd demanded it from the people taking care of him, yet all he could remember of his life were the past three months. He was told that his parents were dead, that he had a sister and a step-brother who were also gone. For some reason his mind anchored on the sister. He tried to ask more about her but they wouldn't tell him, explaining that it wouldn't be beneficial to his recovery. In many ways she was nothing but a ghost to him yet his heart filled with longing whenever he thought of her, of what she may have been like. She wasn't the only thing the people around him chose to remain silent about. According to the few answers he'd received these people saved him when he was at a horrible spot of his life, injured, lost, abandoned. Based on his horrific nightmares he had no problems with believing that. Among other things Charles didn't know how he lost his memories and the only hints were the marks on his skin. The scars littering his back seemed significantly older so he focused on the one marring his head. It was ugly and still sore, like his body hadn't allowed it to heal properly. Something beyond physical ached inside of him every time he touched it. The dull, gnawing pain tasted of betrayal and heartbreak. Those same things, along with so much more, radiated from his eyes that appeared far too old considering his age.
Who was he? What happened to him? According to Stryker he was betrayed by someone of his kind and while they were able to save him the same treachery led to his sister's death. He was lucky to be alive.
Charles didn't always feel so very lucky, if he was honest with himself. He was tired, scared, confused and lonely. Aching. But he owed these people his life. So when Stryker revealed that they needed him for something a month and a half ago he didn't hesitate. It was the least he could do, and he needed something to focus on. Which didn't mean that he liked to proposed deal a whole lot.
/ "Not everyone of your kind is like you, Charles", Stryker explained to him, back then. "Some of them don't want to live in peace with the human kind. They want to harm us, to destroy us. That's why a lot of people are afraid of mutants. So I need your help, Charles. To find them, before they can cause any more damage. It's the only way to maintain peace between mutants and humans."
Charles frowned, shivering. It sounded so very logical yet… "What… happens to them, after I find them?"
"We capture them", Stryker admitted honestly. "There's a serum that takes away their powers permanently. They're given a strong dosage." The agent seemed to sense his shock. "I'm aware of how horrible it sounds but at least they'll be left alive to start anew."
Charles was silent. A frown appeared to his face and he struggled not to wrap his arms around himself. For some reason he felt several degrees colder than before.
"Charles… You need to understand that if we don't do this they'll face a certain death penalty. And not only that. The terror and hatred will spread until humans destroy every single one of your kind." Stryker gave him a second to absorb this. "So, there are two paths to choose from. We can take away the powers of those few individuals, or we can watch all of your kind become wiped out due to fear and anger. Which path do you choose?" /
A knock interrupted Charles' trail of thought. His eyes shifted just in time for him to see Stryker entering the room. The man's expression was a loud enough warning even before the actual words. "There's been… an incident."
Charles took a deep breath, trying to steel himself. Trying to believe that he was doing the right thing. "Take me to Cerebro, then."
In the team's current hideout Erik, Raven, Sean and Alex were leaning above what Hank was pointing furiously. It was a newspaper from Seattle, Washington. Upon first glance there was nothing particularly remarkable.
Eventually Alex snorted and shook his head. "It's official, Furball", the blond announced. "You've finally lost it."
Hank growled in a way that would've startled many. "I can't believe this…! Do you really not see it? Look closer!"
They all frowned and leaned closer, trying to figure out just what had the young mutant so upset. Several pairs of eyes scanned through the pictures, searching. Until a gasp echoed in the room, breaking the tense silence.
There, on a newspaper that wans't more than three days old… Stryker was giving an interview on how the murderer that killed five police officers was finally firmly under custody. The agent wasn't, however, what stole their attention. Instead their focus locked on the man who stood a few steps behind Stryker.
It was, without a doubt, Charles Xavier. Very much alive, albeit visibly thinner than before. It was hard to say from a black and white picture but it also appeared that the telepath was paler than before. There was a lost, haunted and perhaps even pained look in those gentle eyes. Erik noticed all of that, on some level, but his mind was stuck on repeat.
… alive, alive, alive, alive, alive …
"What is he doing with Stryker?" Raven demanded in a tight, pained voice.
Hank shook his head. There was a dark look in the teen's eyes. Those lips opened several times before the only honest answer came. "I don't know."
Erik slammed his fist at the table, so hard that the teen's were startled. "Then we find out", he growled. He spun around and began to march out of the room. "Pack your bags, we've been in New York long enough. Tomorrow we're headed to Seattle."
Erik didn't know what Charles had done and why, what those people made him do. All he knew was that once upon a time that same man saved him from the waves and tried to give him a home, fully aware of the monster hiding inside of him. This time it was his turn to have similar faith.
He wasn't about to lose Charles again, not when he finally knew where the telepath was.
Although he'd used it time and time again Charles didn't know how to feel about Cerebro. The idea of being able to find anyone of his kind at any time was rather terrifying, not least of all in this questionable use. But still feeling those minds of others like him… It was comforting. Made him feel like he wasn't all alone in the world, after all.
He crossed the familiar, dimly lit basement room quickly, determined to have this part over with. Still he paused for a couple of seconds, staring at the device. In the end it fit his head chillingly easily.
"This mutant is responsible for over fifty deaths. Those are only the ones we've been able to confirm. He goes by several names. The most popular one of them is The Devil." When Stryker showed him the picture it became clear why. The very un-human looking mutant had red skin, black hair and the darkest eyes Charles had ever seen. A majestic tail sealed the image. "His most official name, however, is Azazel. He's been missing from our radar for a while but resurfaced again a week or so ago. He's highly dangerous and difficult to find."
Charles' eyebrow bounced up. Weren't those he helped track down always? "How so?"
"He's a teleporter." Stryker's eyes were hard, as always when a new mission rose. "You need to understand that this one is unlike any of the others you've helped us locate. He's been seen appearing to the sky with people, dropping them to their deaths. Impaling people with his tail. Torturing. Slashing. Cutting to pieces. Lose your focus for even a second with him and you're dead. Are you certain that you're ready for this?"
Honestly, Charles had no idea. But even more than the description he just received he was scared of the look of pure hatred and fear in Stryker's eyes. Unleashing the agent and his men after this mutant without his supervision would mean a certain blood bath, maybe on several fronts. "I am", he confirmed, his voice about as steady as possible. "Start the machine."
When the first shockwave of pain came Charles grunted and swayed forward, pleased that there was a railing waiting for him. Getting started was always the nasty part. Having that cacophony of voices filling his head was overwhelming, stung and tore at him like shards of glass. But then, after what felt like years although it had to be less than fifteen seconds, his brain caught on. For a while it was all a little blurry and confusing until he caught the first trace. It faded in less than a flicker and he growled, cold sweat rising to his forehead.
This one was slippery.
But finally the restless presence settled. Charles approached cautiously and far more slowly than his pulsating, throbbing head would've liked, not wanting to alert the other of his uninvited presence. He wasn't sure if he would've been up for another chase.
In the end he even had a location.
After the helmet's removal it took at least two full minutes before Charles had caught enough breath to speak. This one had taken a toll on him. His heart was hammering quite a bit faster than he would've liked. "New York", he gasped out, hoping that the others heard because he wasn't sure if he would've been able to repeat. "I don't know how long… he'll stay. He… seems to have connections there."
Stryker nodded, appearing genuinely pleased. "Alright. Thank you." Then man handed him a glass of water. "You did well."
Charles accepted the offering even though a part of him wanted to decline and drunk eagerly, his throat feeling like he'd been screaming for an hour. Once the telepath finished there was a bitter taste in his mouth although he was perfectly certain that there was nothing wrong with the water he just consumed. It took several moments before the words agreed to come out. "So. We'll take his powers." 'We', because he was under no illusions. Without him there was no way a operation like this would succeed. He was playing the role of a judge and jury, even if he wouldn't be the one to inject the drug. And even after the weeks passed he had no idea how to feel about it.
"Charles." Stryker inhaled deeply. "This mutant… He's killed a lot of people. You need to keep that in mind. And he'll kill more if given the chance. He's also caused the deaths of several of his kind. Your kind." There was a long, welcomed pause. A moment that allowed it all to sink in. "We're not taking his life. Only his powers."
Charles nodded slowly, trying to find comfort from those words. He was pleased to discover that he wasn't trembling anymore. "What happens to him afterwards?" Based on what he saw this living, breathing, existing, thinking being had spent all his life jumping around from a place to a place. Never bothering to make a home, to grow roots. What would happen to someone like that when a essential part of what made them who they were was taken away?
"That's entirely up to him. But at least this way he'll have a chance." Stryker sounded tired and a little annoyed. The agent sighed when they left the room. "We've been through this several times, Charles. You're making helping those who saved your life sound like a crime. Do I really have to remind you that we're after criminals, murderers?"
Charles squeezed his mouth tightly closed, his eyebrows furrowing. Guilt, intensified by the fact that it was caused by several sources, washed over him like a tidal wave. He wondered with a degree of frustration if his life had always been this confusing, always dangling on a thin line amongst complicated moral arguments.
Stryker gave him a sideways glance and frowned. "You don't seem well. Are you sure that you're able to travel?"
"Yes." There wasn't a trace of hesitation in Charles' voice although his feet felt unnervingly unsteady and his head wasn't much better. It was the deal they made from the start. If he was condemning his kind to a fate like this he, at very least, wanted to be there to monitor as the verdict was executed. Besides, actually reaching and capturing a mutant like this might turn out messy and he wanted to make sure that there wouldn't be collateral damage. To enforce his statement he offered a small smile that he hoped was convincing enough. "It's a long flight. I'll be fine." Being out of the compound was helping a little, at least. It felt easier to breathe somehow.
Stryker nodded, some suspicion shining in the man's eyes, but relented.
Once they made it to the jet Charles excused himself and made his way to the small toilet. As soon as he got there he took a look towards the mirror and shivered. What he discovered was exactly what he'd feared. A tiny yet steady river of red was beginning to run from his nose.
It was one of those little things that he liked to keep to himself.
While his hosts seemed to harbor secrets Charles had some of his own. He didn't tell them about the headaches and nosebleeds he suffered from after almost every session with the machine and increasingly more often even if he hadn't. They monitored his bodily functions often enough to have spotted his fevers but so far none of them had commented. Sometimes those thousands and thousands of minds screaming in his head all at once seemed to be tearing his skull apart. But Charles knew that he had to do this, for the sake of both humans and mutants. This was his only way to stop anyone else from having to go through his sister's fate. So he kept his silence and endured how much this all hurt both his body and soul, to avoid any more unnecessary deaths.
With that steadfast thought Charles wiped his nose and took a deep breath. Having the flow stop that quickly was a relief. Usually it took much longer. His eyes were stern when he met his reflection.
It's okay, he told himself. You're doing the only thing you can. It's alright.
Still no amount of self reassurances erased the weight sitting on his shoulders or the empty spot in his heart.
With a deep breath that made him feel dizzy for a few seconds Charles turned and left the toilet. Preparing himself for a long, unpleasant flight. And, of course, for the even more unpleasant meeting up ahead.
Somehow he had a feeling that this case would be far more difficult than the others.
TBC
A/N: Gosh, they miss each other so much! Although Charles doesn't even no what he misses. (winces) But what's this? They're so close to meeting again! We'll see if they manage to or if fate chooses to lead them apart once more.
Thoughts? Something on your mind? You know how to let me know. (smirks)
AS FOR THE NEXT UPDATE… My summertime adventure is halfway through. I PROMISE that I'll do everything I possibly can to give you an update next week. Let's hope that it works out.
Soooo, folks… Until next time! 'Hope I'll see you all there.
Take care!
sjl: I've gotta admit that I'm thrilled to hear the story's gripped you so. (smirks sheepishly) Hopefully what's to come manages to feed your addiction! And gosh, let's hope that Erik will manage to save the day.
Huge thank yous for the review!
