Beta'd by the beatific and excellent moviesaremagic. So the smooth reading's all thanks to her. :)


Accusations


Blood was the price and pain was the payment he must tender. The requirement steadily increased as seconds pounded by and Charles did not open his eyes.

As the small rabbit knows that the pursuing hawk is going to drop on him from the sky, the boy had to realize what was coming next.

Deadly intense, Erik watched Hank, choosing from the thousands of weak spots on the human body those upon which he would inflict the most damage. Perhaps the soft inner flesh of his elbow or the hollow behind his ear. The possibilities were endless - providing of course that the prey did not die too quickly.

The boy shifted his weight from one knee to another and began to nibble nervously on a fingernail. With hooded eyes, Erik watched the erratic pulse of the vein in his throat. Breath pushed from the thin chest beside him in hiccups and a single tear beat a glistening path down the boy's face. He hastily wiped it away with an impeccable white sleeve, but the droplet had already made its impact.

Inside Erik, the frozen place of murder thawed, melting under the heat of sudden emotion. He had seen men cry before – men far stronger and greater than the youth – men who had done truly horrible deeds and lived on remorseless. Crying for them was a last resort. A petty trickery that they thought might prolong their lives. Might appease the vengeful devil who had come to send them back to Hell. It had never affected him before. Tears served only to make his target's death more satisfying.

In contrast, Hank's sorrow was altruistic, genuine. He wept not for himself nor in an attempt to slake a killer's bloodlust. Erik was certain that if he mentioned seeing Hank cry the boy would deny everything in high embarrassment. He shed tears for Charles. In remorse for his mistake. His emotion was real.

The small salty drop disintegrated the shadows on Erik's soul. He was horrified with himself. This morning he had told Charles Xavier he did not want to be a monster. Mere hours later he was considering killing a person he had sworn to protect. A young mutant who was a valuable asset to his tribe. An innocent.

His muscles felt like worn rubber, like they would sag away from his skeleton and leave him limp on the floor. He felt old. Burdened by the weight of life itself.

Charles needed to wake up and help him lead this thing. He couldn't do it alone. Everything he touched became tainted. He couldn't keep himself clean, let alone an entire race of mutants.

Abandoning his perfect posture, Erik slumped against the distorted railing. The tips of his fingers brushed against the unconscious telepath's. Hank eyed him concernedly.

I'm fine. Just damned is all, he wanted to assure the boy, but his voice was gone. Weak. So instead he shrugged his shoulders. The young scientist nodded and gave him a tremulous smile of comfort.

"I'm going to radio for help. Get someone from the infirmary out here."

Erik nodded his assent. He didn't that think there was anything a group of humans could do to help, but if it made the boy feel better to try, then it didn't cost him anything.

He looked down where his hand brushed Charles'. Unthinking, he wrapped his hand across the top of the professor's limp one. His fingers curled under the clammy skin and dug into Charles' palm as though he could will his strength into the frozen body through touch alone.

Wake up, damn it. I still need you, friend.

Nothing happened. He hadn't expected it to. He just wanted Charles, wherever he was, to know that there would be hell to pay if he left Erik holding the bag for all of this.

He kept him in handclasp, but looked away, glazed eyes absently inspecting the flashing mechanical lights around them.


Charles was frantic. His body was not heeding any of his commands. He was trapped in a cold limbo with an alert mind and unresponsive body.

Sometimes, when he was in a very bleak mood, he asked himself what was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. In a disgusting circuit, he would dig through some of the more gruesome things he had discovered humans beings had done to another of their kind and imagine himself as the victim. The woman who was strangled in her sleep. The soldier who'd been burned alive. It went on and on.

The truly disgusting thing was that there wasn't any scenario that couldn't be topped. Escalation was in human nature.

Finally, in self-reproach, he would give up the sick game as futile and he would settle on an answer from within his own memories – nothing for him could be worse than drowning. The pressing weight of water, the slow smothering of his lungs, the loneliness of it all.

He was wrong. His morbid investigations had failed to provide the proper preparation for the worst. This- this horrible purgatory was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. To be forced into motionlessness, but all the while aware. There was no relieving mental numbness. No eventual facility loss from pain. No cool embrace of death. Only continued frantic thinking. A perpetual awareness.

He felt Erik's executioner state. The terrible contemplation of Hank's soft spots.

Stop! He screamed, unheard.

There was nothing he could do. Perfectly helpless, he lay there.

Dimly he was aware of the German's murderous intentions and their dissipation. The frantic running of Hank.

So the boy was still alive. If Charles could have smiled, he would have. Erik was learning control. That was good to know. There was hope for him. Though sadness soon crashed over this small happiness; sadness that he might be stuck here and never to witness the metal-bender's transformation. Charles couldn't help but to wallow in the seductively cold embrace of his self-pity.

He was diving deeper, falling in further, lost and adrift when he felt it - a burst of warmth filled the grey desolation of his unseeing mind. There was a tingling sensation, like the rush of blood back to a sleeping limb.

Wake up, damn it. I still need you, friend.

He knew that voice. Erik.

Erik, in his mind. Erik, shining through the murky depths of his confinement. Pulling him back with the strength of their mental connection, a thing which Charles was beginning to suspect went deeper than he could even understand.

Telepathy and its effect needed some more serious research. Right now, goddamn it.

His heart beat in a painful stutter. Slowly, feeling started to return to his body. It radiated out from a spot on his right side at the edge of his limb. Heat thudded through him and he sensed all the parts of his body slowly coming back under his control.

Finally! His eyelids were responding again and he fluttered them open. The sight that greeted him was unexpected. A knee, folded and sheathed in familiar charcoal fabric. This close, he could see the weave of its thread. Charles knew expensive and these pants were. Erik had insisted on retrieving his suitcase before they left Miami. He had been jealous of that smooth fabric for days – he'd been stuck with borrowed suits of a "deserter" who was at least two sizes bigger and stingy with his wardrobe budget.

Slowly, as though they were getting reaccustomed to working, his eyes traveled up the knee, observed it merging into a leg, a leg to a hip, a hip to a torso, a torso to a shoulder, a shoulder to a neck, a neck to an unshaven, strong jaw, and finally, to a face. A lean face. A hard one, with angled planes and pronounced hollows. He didn't think that he'd seen anything more dear in his life.

"Urghrr… Erik?"

His voice was weak and scratchy, like that of a cat who'd coughed up one too many hairballs. Erik heard him all the same.

Erik's sight, which had been curiously blank, blazed and he looked down at the man on the floor, hardly daring to believe the voice had issued from that throat. The glitter of open blue eyes solidified his hopes as reality.

"Charles? Can you sit up?"

Fondness surged in the telepath. "If you could lend a hand, yes."

"Of course, of course."

Erik moved hastily to readjust himself and bring the other man into an upright position. Charles noticed that in order to do it, Erik had to let go of his hand first. So that was were the warmth had originated. Curiouser and curiouser.

Taking great care, the German eased him straight-backed against the twisted remains of the railing. Professor Xavier smiled into his suddenly close face.

Erik's skin was very nice and Charles was sure that he must have been an attractive teenager, not one of the pimply gawky things he had briefly been. It wasn't any wonder an egomaniac like Shaw had delighted in having such a creature under his control. Flashes from the other mutant's memory panned through his mind at the thought. His heart beat savagely. Charles was going to kill that man for what he had done to Erik.

"Charles?"

The concern cut through the rage and the telepath was left shaken. Where had that come from? It went against everything he believed in to kill. Even the most loathsome had the right to life. Even Sebastian Shaw. It wasn't possible that Charles wanted to kill him. It must be the effects of the day. Residual influence from the weight of all those minds taking him so far outside of himself. Yes, something like that. Research - it had to be done.

"I'm fine," he said as firmly as he could manage.

Erik nodded and sat back on his heels. His eyes glinted wickedly at the weak telepath. "Now's a good a time as any to say I told you so, right?"

Charles let out a fake groan that was more real than he wanted to admit. "It's never a good time to be an ass. But I deserve it, so I accept," he admitted in a tone that got less tart as he went along.

Another nod from Erik. He understood. Charles wanted to be more explicit regardless.

"You were right. I was arrogant. And I thank you for making a mental link to bring me back. I won't make the mistake of dismissing you again."

The smooth, dark head of the other mutant tilted, considering Charles in a very serious stare. Sitting patiently through the examination was one of the more difficult things the Professor had ever done. It didn't help anything that he could feel Erik's wary judgment brushing against his exhausted mental nerves.

Eventually, Erik blinked, straightened his head, and smiled at Charles. It was a worn smile, not quite as wide as his lips could stretch and lacking the joy of an open mouthed grin, but it was a smile all the same. Charles was grateful for it.

His gratitude and the peace of the tower was broken seconds later when he felt someone very familiar enter the range of his consciousness. Some one very familiar and very angry.


"You're both fucking idiots, Hank! Why would I intercept a goddamned radio to the infirmary from you? What do you think you're playing at? And why on Earth didn't Erik wring both of your necks? Fucking Charles!"

Raven burst into the room, indiscreet as ever. Hank trailed after her shamefacedly.

Erik glanced at the weak Englishman perched beside him. He raised a single eyebrow. Charles shrugged in response. What am I going to do about it? his posture said.

The irate girl had the advantage of standing, so her downward glare at them was more effective than it would have been otherwise. Erik applauded her masterful use of dominance techniques. She had been born to wrangle and rule.

"Now, Raven, as you can see, I'm awake and well, so there's no nee-"

"Oh yes there is," she spat, cutting her brother off. "There is a need. You could have died. Did you ever stop to think in your rush for glory? Stop to say, Gosh, this is untested equipment, maybe I should take it easy the first time? Or did you go all out, guns blazing, ignoring Erik? I'm sure he told you what a jerk you were being."

Again, Erik felt a warm splintering in his chest. Raven's faith in him was something to which he had absolutely no right, but it made him happy. It was nice not being alone. Though, in this instance, he could not savor the feeling. He wasn't angry enough with the sheepish looking man next to him.

Admitting you were wrong. It was difficult to do – particularly if you were the infallible Charles Xavier. He owed the professor something for in return for his sincere apology.

"Raven," Erik began, voice a low rumble in his chest, "you're right. And for once, your brother knows he's wrong. Berate him later."

He turned from her as her mouth shut with a furious click. "In the meantime, Hank, did you get those coordinates?"

The boy jumped at being addressed and turned his attention to Erik, breaking from his nervous contemplation of Raven. "Yes sir. I did. I, uh, recorded the whole session, so it's there."

He regarded Hank with narrowed eyes. "You recorded the session without our consent?"

Erik felt something weakly brush his knee. Charles' hand. "I told him it was alright," the telepath said in a voice that was still too faint.

"Would have been nice to know," he muttered in reprimand, but there wasn't any real bite to it. His mouth quirked up at the edge and Charles' eyes twinkled.

"Ohmi-ghrowmmmm! Hank! Ow."

Raven, who had calmed down somewhat, puffed up again. She rounded on the faintly defiant looking scientist. "What did you do that for? Stomping on my foot."

"Sorry, I-I stumbled," he said to the ground.

Erik could hardly watch. Training; Hank needed training. That was the worst lying the metal bender had ever seen.

Which begged the question as to why he really had stepped on Raven. Erik thought back through the past few moments, but even with his keen observational skills, there hadn't been anything amiss. Perhaps the two of them had been doing something unseen. Supplying a false answer to comfort himself wouldn't do any good, but really, he couldn't think of another solution.

"Gah. To hell with it. You're all impossible. Let's get Charles to bed." Raven looked like she was desperately trying to control herself in order to ensure that her brother would get seen to properly.

"Actually, love," Charles said, gently, "we don't have time. I have work to do."


"Honestly, I don't understand her. She picks the most inconvenient times to go motherly on me. You should have seen her on the sail over. Water travel, and really water in general, make me ill and she spent the whole time clucking and putting these sopping rags on my forehead. It was rather sweet actually, but goodness, could you imagine how ghastly it is to be floating about the bloody ocean in a bucket and someone keeps dripping more water on you? Like Chinese water torture."

Charles swirled around the room, hastily throwing things into a battered traveling bag darned with knotted string in the corner. Erik wondered if it had always been his. Everything about Charles, from his posh accent to his posture, spoke of privilege. The bag was at odds with his image.

Letting Charles chatter though seemed to be a good source of information. He had already learned more personal details about the mysterious professor in the past hour than in the past few days. A confirmation of his hatred of water, which Erik had first suspected when the professor climbed the ladder into the rescue boat so quickly, for instance. Very interesting.

"Water makes you ill? Isn't that where I met you?"

The furious packing motions stalled for a moment and if Charles had been a cat his back would have arched, but as quickly as it stopped, the flurry resumed.

"It is," Charles offered matter-of-factly without turning around. Erik wasn't expecting anything more, but the telepath continued in the same tone. "Your mind, I could feel it from the boat. I couldn't let you die because of an uppity, overgrown puddle."

Erik remembered that night; the tsunamis from Shaw's mutant henchman, his own wielding of the anchor, and the burning, wave tossed wreckage.

Charles had jumped straight into that. Charles who was phobic of water.

And he had judged him to be a milksop. Amazed with the failure of his considerable acumen, he shook his head. Foolish, indeed, was the man who underestimated Professor Xavier.

"Hm. Glad to benefit from your sense of justice. You know, packing would be far more efficient if you didn't throw your things about in the first place."

Erik was only mildly surprised when his roommate threw a pillow good-naturedly at his head.


Twice in one day was entirely too often for contentious meetings with Mr. A, Charles decided. The director sat opposite them at his dark desk and fixed them with an intent stare. He was eager for the mutant recruitment to begin – there was no telling when Shaw would strike, they had the barest of information – but he still didn't want to send Charles and Erik out unsupervised. What sort of shenanigans his erstwhile savior feared they would get into, Charles could not be sure. There was nothing beyond vague suspicions and the compulsion to protect his country by controlling this vital mission floating in Mr. A's head.

"We have a list of twenty-five individuals who met the criteria we decided upon, sir." Erik, who had been informed of the criteria and approved, nodded in support. "Earlier Hank provided to you the locations we must visit, I trust?"

Mr. A fluttered his hand, acknowledging the truth of Charles' statement. "Yes, yes. Compliant with the terms of our compromise, I've also provided you with a travel budget and arranged for accommodations. And you'll be providing regular reports and sending anyone willing to join us directly to base." He stopped and peered at them over the top rim of his glasses. "You'll have one month. We can't afford any more time than that."

Charles blinked. An entire month? He'd of course heard the plan outlined, but it hadn't seemed so final until now. A whole month without Raven. His heart started up an anxious flutter. Was she really going to be alright here? Erik had told him about his suspicions regarding Hank and he had plenty of his own about leaving her unattended in general. They'd not been separated since they'd been together.

"Understood," said Erik in a curt voice, responding to whatever it was Mr. A'd said. Charles hadn't heard it, but the German man beside him was rising, so he stood as well. His thoughts were a blank wall, but he got the faint impression of amusement – Erik had noticed his lack of attention.

Regardless, as they walked out of the small room, Charles decided that he quite liked having an equal around to shoulder some of the responsibility. Oh, the daydreaming doors that would open to him with Erik by his side.


Hank determinedly kept his eyes fixed on the circuitry in his hand. Handling the tiny tools took more concentration than the regular sized ones he typically used and he clung to that thought as an excuse to keep his attention averted from the furious girl staring at the back of his head. It was useless though. Ignoring someone when they were burning holes into your neck wasn't feasible.

Okay, so he wouldn't ignore her; that didn't mean that he had to look up.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Raven?"

A noise like a deflating balloon escaped her. Feigned ignorance, it seemed, had not been the route to go.

"You know damn well what you can do for me, Science Boy. What is going on with my brother?"

Girls were strange creatures. He didn't have much experience with them, but he didn't think that Raven was entirely normal. She was kind one day, sneaking into the lab and giving him her blood to study, and today, she was a demon with a thirst for his soul. It was unsettling. He wondered if all females were this way. Most likely they were. It was a thought that made his heart pinch. Golly, he was probably better off keeping to the safety of his lab.

"The professor's perfectly capable of taking care of himself," he said in what he hoped was a reasonable voice. "It was my fault today. I should have had monitors on him to check his basic functions. Next time, they'll be there. Nothing to worry yourself over."

"Not that! Charles is forever getting into situations without thinking them through. I mean, why did you stomp on me?" She moved closer and bent down so that he had no choice but to face her. Her voice was silky now, dangerous. His mouth was suddenly very dry. "Stomping on a lady; it isn't like you Hank."

She moved even closer. Her perfume, something flowery and spicy at the same time, swelled in his nostrils.

"Hank, what do you know about my brother that I don't? What's he hiding from me?"

It was funny; he'd seen lots of movies and he knew when someone was playing the part of a femme fatale. All Raven needed was a lit cigarette and a low cut evening gown. But really, it wasn't affecting him. Well, besides making him uncomfortable. She executed a move that would have made the base's karate sensei proud and before he could process anything, she was in his lap. Her eyes were enormous and he didn't know where to put his hands. He suspected that she might be, well, uh, fast, but that didn't mean that he wanted to touch her offensively. Desperately, he wished that she would move back to her own stool.

Her voice was louder now, a touch petulant. "What is it? You can tell me."

"Tell you what, sister dear?"

Hank sprang up instinctively, heart pounding at the sound of Professor Xavier's voice, and tumbling Raven to the floor with an undignified squeak. He stood there, cheeks burning, studiously avoiding the older man's X-ray eyes. Charles could hear everything that he was thinking anyway, so it was pointless, but it made him feel better.

Spitting out strands of golden hair that had gotten caught in mouth, Raven lurched to her feet. "Don't you come in here sneaking up on people like you own the world. All I want is to know what's going on with you! You're keeping secrets." Her voice started up a tremble, "I thought it was you and me. Together 'til the end, Charlie."

Hank was distinctly embarrassed. He was intruding upon a very private family moment. More than anything, he wanted to turn invisible. Raven looked wild, all popping eyes and tangled hair. Charles didn't make a move towards her, seemingly frozen, with a tormented expression on his face.

"Did you up and fall in love with him? In a week, like some twisted fairytale. God, Charles. Get laid, get over it."

Hank knew that she was just saying things to be hurtful, to hurt her brother like he'd hurt her, but he still flinched at her words. Maybe she'd had a small suspicion today, but she didn't know how on the mark she was. The desire to be invisible grew even stronger.

For his part, Charles remained where he was. He looked at the quivering girl with unreadable eyes. His face was a cold mask of indifference.

"Raven, it is beside the fact that what you've said is incorrect. It's ridiculous how you, at twenty-two years old, still behave as a child. You don't think. How would Erik feel if he came in and heard you say that?"

The girl blinked, surprised. She liked Erik, Hank knew. Charles was still, holding their silence with his terrible presence.

"You can think about it while you stay here for a month, alone. Erik and I have a mission. Perhaps that's what Hank wouldn't tell you."

He flicked his eyes over the pair. "Maybe he would have told you if you weren't crawling all over him - it's not the only way to get what you want, you know," Charles added to Raven in a condescending tone that did little to hide the anger beneath its surface.

It was childish and petty, the kind of cruel thing that you would only say to a sibling. A sibling who hit you first. It didn't take a boy as smart as Hank to see just where Charles' vulnerable spot had been.

Then he was gone. Hank watched him turn and walk out the door, so rationally, he knew it was impossible, but he felt like Professor Xavier had disappeared in a cloud of ominous smoke all the same.

A moment passed. Nervous, he looked over at the girl. Silent tears made wet tracks down her face. Hank went over to her. Unsure and awkward, he wrapped long arms around her small frame. He really hadn't noticed before how tiny she was. The force of her personality made her seem larger than life.

She let out a small hiccup and burrowed her face into the scratchy material of his lab coat. Unconsciously, he petted her hair. From the level of his lapel, he heard a small voice. It spoke in a wondering, dazed tone. "His worry was how Erik would feel?"

Hank didn't have an answer for her. He'd thought the same thing. The Professor had it bad.


Tsk, tsk. Charles, Charles, Charles, what am I going to do with you? You're going to blow your secret love sky-high if you keep on like this.

But then again, that's sort of the point, isn't it? :P

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and, as always, review, or I'll think up some silly sort of punishment. Like another month between updates or something.

}:} (I love my evil face.)