He cannot believe he is not dead.
But death is supposed to be the relief of bodily discomfort and right now, he is in a lot of discomfort, so alas, he is not dead. His head is throbbing and he can feel his blood oozing from a wound on his forehead, hot and burning as it trickles down his face. Throwing himself from the wheelchair has landed him on something other than grass, something sharply biting its way into his back, and his left arm is squashed against his chest by a steel construction. For the first time perhaps ever, he is happy that he cannot feel his legs.
Vaguely he becomes aware of the sound of more gunfire, of electricity hissing and Hank shouting, then of metal creaking and cringing. Then silence, followed by the eerie sound of guns cocking themselves.
Then, Erik's voice, loud and clear.
"You built these weapons to destroy us. Why?"
No one answers. Whoever Erik is talking to, they know as well as Charles does that the answer is not theirs to give. But they know it, just as well as Charles does. Just as well as Erik does.
"Because you are afraid of our gifts. Because we are different. Humanity has always feared that which is different."
There is a sadness to Erik's voice, an unmistakable grief, and Charles knows it only too well. Knows its origins and its power, and can only imagine how much it must have grown during these past ten years.
"Well, I am here to tell you, to tell the world, you are right to fear us. We are the future. We are the ones who will inherit this earth! And anyone who stands in our way will suffer the same fate as these men you see before you."
It is a great speech, Charles has to admit, if one ignores its objective. Erik always had a way with words, a way to shape them so that anyone who heard him speak would be touched to the core of their being and remember the words forever. But who is he addressing now? Clearly not the men he is holding at gunpoint, no, because he is making an example out of them.
Tentatively, he reaches out with his mind and he sees them, through their eyes – military men, some politicians, Trask and the man who was with him in Paris, the President of course. And there is also Raven's mind, but he steers clear of it, for now, instead listening in on the men around her. They are afraid, that much is obvious, but not only for Erik, he understands, but for the world's opinion of them. What will they think, they wonder, even as their hearts beat wildly in their chests, what will the world think about us now?
As if he, too, had read their minds, Erik continues his speech.
"Today was meant to be a display of your power. Instead I give you a glimpse of the devastation my race can unleash upon yours. Let this be a warning to the world. And to my mutant brothers and sisters out there, I say this: No more hiding. No more suffering. You have lived in the shadows in shame and fear for too long."
No more hiding. That is what he said then, too. That time, Charles heard it through a wall of pain shooting through his body, much like it does now. That time, Erik reached out to Raven: now he reaches out to the world.
"Come out" Erik says, and it is a whisper, a plea, a promise. "Join me. Fight together in a brotherhood of our kind. A new tomorrow that starts today."
All is quiet. The world is quiet.
Charles fights against the heavy steel pressing down on him, but it is futile. He feels like a worm, wriggling on a hook. So many people, so close, and not one of them aware that he is there. Not even Erik, whose presence is like a void among the minds out there. Charles always hated that helmet.
Something happens then, out of sight for him but not out of earshot.
"I said, stand down!" the voice, unmistakably, belonging to the President himself. "You want to make a statement? Kill me. Fine. But spare everyone else."
There is a rumble of alarm and wonder among the other men, and Charles picks up on their errant thoughts of confusion.
"Very heroic, mister President" comes Erik's voice, smooth but hard as steel. "But you had no intention of sparing any of us. The future of our species begins now."
Charles gets the picture a moment too late, catching the impression of Raven's mind only as she raises her hand and pulls the trigger. He can hear Erik's gasp and the sound of objects falling to the ground – guns, he suspects – machines shutting down, and his heart nearly stops.
Erik!
"You used to be a better shot."
Oh, Erik…
"Trust me, I still am."
With an effort, Charles pushes himself through the minds of the men assembled, sees Raven take out Erik and as she turns on the humans, he freezes them. Again, he projects himself to her, unable to bring himself to take control over her body again, but she is having none of it.
"Get out of my head Charles!"
"Raven…" he pleads, "please, do not make us the enemy today."
"Look around you, we already are!"
"Not all of us. All you've done so far, is save the lives of these men. You can show them a better path."
He can see her struggling, just like he sees Hank hovering above him, trying but failing to release him from the debris.
"Shut her down, Charles" Hank is saying to him, but Charles shakes his head. Finally, he knows what to say.
Guide us, Logan asked him.
"I've been trying to control you ever since the day we met, and look where that's got us… Everything that happens now is in your hands. I have faith in you, Raven."
This is her choice. All he has been trying to do is get her to choose what he wants, what he would choose, but that is not the right way. Whatever future they have ahead of them, it is for her to decide. It has always been her decision, and he will not, cannot, take it away from her.
He lets go of her, but holds on to Trask who is standing in front of her. Not taking over him, no, merely tagging along, seeing what he sees – Raven, proud and strong, a wave of admiration and, surprisingly, respect emanating from Trask's mind. Her hand is shaking, her resolve wavering – and then she lets her gun fall.
Charles returns to the solace of his own mind with a groan: his tense muscles relaxing and giving him a painful reminder of the fact that he is being slowly crushed to death. He exhales, and hears Raven's voice again, high and clear.
"He's all yours, Charles."
And there it is, Erik's mind exposed to him, and he seizes upon it, entering the long-lost but achingly familiar mind without a second to lose, gets Erik up on his feet and clearing the steel away, releasing Charles' body from its prison. Hank grabs hold of him, dragging him to his feet, and he lets go of Erik's mind, trying not to see, not to feel, all that is there.
Erik, only yards away, look at him as if waking from a dream. He glances at his helmet, that awful, hateful thing, and then at Charles again, who is hanging limply at Hank's shoulder.
"If you let them have me", Erik says, "I'm as good as dead. You know that."
"I know."
There are other things to say, things that need to be said, but this is not the time or the place. That time and place will come, one day, but for now… Erik opens his mind to him, directs it at him, and almost smiles.
"Goodbye, old friend."
"Goodbye, Erik."
Erik looks at Raven then, and Charles thinks that there, too, a farewell is taking place, though unspoken. Moments later, Erik levitates himself off the ground and away, his helmet still on the ground. Raven looks at him then, or rather, at Hank. They too speak only with their eyes, a communication that says more than words could, and she leaves.
"Are you sure you should let them go?" Hank asks, holding his limp, bleeding body upright, and as Charles answers him with words, he also sends those words to the minds making their way far away from him.
"Yes. I have hope for them. There's going to be a time, Hank, when we are all together."
"What about Logan?"
He does not answer immediately, but sends his mind out to roam. There is no ping, no sense of Logan anywhere out there, but that might be due to exhaustion.
"I don't know" he says. "I guess from now on, we can only hope that we have thrown enough pebbles in the river to make it change its course."
"I guess" Hank says, though clearly not convinced.
"Now, if you don't mind, Hank… I would like to go home."
"Home?"
"Yes. We have a lot of work to do if we're to get the school running again." Hank does not answer, not for several moments, and rather annoyed at this, Charles turns to look at him. "What?"
"Just… Nothing. Professor."
He smiles at Hank. For all that his legs are useless pieces of flesh and bone, and his ribs bruised and his face covered in concrete dust and blood, not to mention the murderous headache torturing his mind – he is getting there. Not just to being all right, but to being… himself. The man he once thought he was, and the man Logan knew that he became.
Now, it is time to become that man, to do the things he has promised to do and to gather those mutants that he can. Teach them, guide them, and help them become what they are meant to be. Storm, Scott, Jean. Logan.
And he hopes, hopes now in a way that has not felt hope in years, that one day, Raven and Erik will come back. It does not matter now whether it will be a year from now, or five or ten or twenty, because he knows now that even during the worst possible circumstances, they united. It might have taken them fifty years, but they did it, and with today's events, hopefully circumstances will never be that bad.
Knowing this, he can wait, wait and work for the best future possible. And then, with luck, he can become the man he saw, and perhaps, one day, Erik will be by his side again.
A/N: So this is it. While I'm sorry to leave both Erik and Charles, and you guys, hanging like this, remember that we still have at least one more movie to look forward to, and lots of things can happen then! Charles and Erik's story is far from over and I'm happy that you have followed them and me this far. I'll try and see if perhaps there can be a companion fic or two while we all wait, so please, feel free to follow me here on FFN to be alerted whenever I upload something new. And please, if you've enjoyed this story, leave a word or two in the reviews, it'll make my day!