Chapter 12

Now

Erik isn't expected at work all week, but two days later a trip to the market is necessary and he goes. Charles takes the opportunity to actually do something; he doesn't mind the attention, and Erik's constant closeness, but his husband won't let him lift a finger. It's worse than any of the pregnancies, but in this situation he doesn't have the heart to say anything or to worry Erik unnecessarily, so he's acquiesced.

But what Erik doesn't know won't hurt him.

His head doesn't bother him too awfully much, and Erik is gone long enough that Charles is able to wash clothes. He's hanging them on the lines in the garden at the back of the house when Jean comes home. She is well past the point of needing to tell them exactly where she goes at all times, so he isn't sure whether she's been watching someone's children or seeing Scott.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demands, hands on hips.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "And language, please."

She could protest more—he can see it on the tip of her tongue—but she doesn't. Instead Jean just shakes her head and comes to help him.

"Have you found someone to room with when you move into town this summer?" he asks after too long a stretch of silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, and he'd been enjoying it, but Charles is all too aware now that his time with his children might be limited.

Jean shrugs. "Not really. There really aren't any girls in my year I'd care to live with…"

"You'll have to find someone you can get along with, or they'll choose for you. You know the boarding houses and apartments are too crowded for private rooms now," he reminds her.

"I know, but…I mean, do I have to leave home now? Pretty much everybody does it when they're eighteen, but there's no rule or anything…"

Charles pauses and looks at her, but she won't look at him. "Jean, you've been looking forward to moving for months." She's certainly mentioned it often enough. She has no problem with home but that it's a bit crowded.

She shrugs, still not looking at him, hanging another piece of clothing. "I know that too. I have been. I mean I was. But it's really not that big of a deal, and there's no one I want to room with anyway. I figure I can just wait until next year, and then Ororo and I can get a room together like Sean and Alex did and then, you know…I'll be here…"

He suspected that was where this was going, and he's sure now. He sighs. "I know what you're doing. You don't need to do that."

"Well I want to, okay?" She looks at him now, eyes stubbornly damp, but she blinks away the moisture and swallows, and goes back to hanging clothes. It doesn't mean anything, she thinks, because she's afraid now that she won't be able to speak without crying. It doesn't mean I think anything is going to…to happen to you. You'll be fine. It'll be fine. They're going to get that stupid thing out of you, and you'll need someone to help around here after your surgery, while Dad's at work, cause he can't stay home forever…

Every instinct Charles has wants him to pull his daughter into his arms, but he knows that would be too much for her right now. She really would cry. Instead he catches her hand for a moment and squeezes, and she gives him a weak smile.

Thank you, he tells her silently. He doesn't want her to do anything she doesn't want to do, but the idea that she'll be at home longer really does makes him feel better.

If all else fails, at least she'll be here to keep Erik together.

If anything happens.

But Charles quickly shuts that thought away.

They're quiet after that, hanging the clothes, Bobby and Kitty running in and out of the house and around them before disappearing upstairs again, and at some point Ororo arrives home from school and joins them. Charles stops eventually, and lets them finish, watching them.

They're both so grown now—beautiful, intelligent, confident young women. They've both turned out so wonderfully, and sometimes he can't quite figure out how that happened. He certainly doesn't credit himself.

"Mom?"

Jean senses something from him. He scolds himself inwardly for not shielding better, but then again that would be something like lying. "Hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

But both of them are looking at him now.

Rather than her usual annoyed or cocky yeah-uh-huh-you-know-you-can't-hide-things-from-me face, the look Jean gives him now is soft. "What is it?" she asks gently. Though it's still insistent enough that he knows she sensed enough that he won't get out of this one.

"Are you okay?" Ororo asks.

Charles shrugs helplessly, and he doesn't know how to put it into words. Or he does, but he doesn't want to say them.

Insecurities held for two decades don't wish to reveal themselves easily.

"I uhm…" He clears his throat, and he blinks, but he can't stall forever. "It's just…sometimes I wonder if you feel cheated."

"Cheated?" Ororo echoes in confusion. Jean only frowns.

"Because you never had a real mother."

For a moment they just stare at him, and suddenly he's afraid that the things he's feared at times over the years are all true.

Then Jean lets out a heavy breath. "Are you kidding me? Is that all? God, Mom, don't scare me like that. For a minute there I thought there was a real issue."

"I'm serious."

"And so am I. Why would we feel cheated? We have a real mother."

"A better one than a lot of people we know," Ororo points out. "Why would you ever think—?"

"But I'm not—I'm not a woman."

"So?" Jean questions.

"There have been so many things I've never been able to help you with—things I couldn't understand because I'm not…"

"We had Raven for that stuff, and really the things we absolutely had to go to her for have been pretty small. Next argument?"

Charles lets out a breath of his own and looks at them through narrowed eyes. "Do you plan to continue to make me feel ridiculous for asking at all?"

"That's not an argument."

His jaw works a bit. "No, it's a question."

Jean drops the attitude immediately and hugs him. "Sorry…" You know I have to do that. It's my best defense mechanism.

Charles laughs weakly and returns the embrace, shifting an arm around Ororo as well when she moves in with them.

"We love you, Mom," Ororo says quietly.

And don't you ever think we think any differently of you just because you're not like the other moms. We kinda feel special, actually, if you must know.

It IS good to know…he thinks back.

Maybe we should have told you that before.

"I love you, too," he says aloud. Now if he could just blink away the rest of the tears, damnit. But success is not complete, and when Erik appears at the back door of the house soon after that his eyebrows go up.

"Did I miss something?"

Charles and the girls separate, all three of them clearing their throats.

"Nothing at all, Dad," Jean says brightly. Ororo escapes back into the house, and her sister follows her.

Erik watches them retreat in bewilderment, then shakes his head. He comes to Charles and takes his shoulders, massaging with his thumbs. "How are you feeling?"

"Not horrible today, actually."

The corner of Erik's mouth quirks up, and his eyes shift every so briefly to the clotheslines. "I'm not going to say anything about the laundry."

"You just did."

Erik snorts and tugs him in close, and Charles doesn't resist, willingly burying his face in Erik's shirt. The amiable mood isn't broken until Erik begins to squeeze a little too tight.


"You can't be serious."

"I'm quite serious," Charles tells him that night.

Erik just stares for a moment before clarifying. "You want to just ask the Council who's behind the entire thing?"

"They won't tell us, of course, but the truth will be at the front of their minds then. I hate to invade anyone's mind without permission, but if it's what must be done it's what must be done. And reading surface thoughts is must less intrusive than digging into memories. There is less chance of being noticed that way, as well."

"You're forgetting that they know you're a telepath. They'll make sure not think about it."

"Ah, but when someone doesn't want to think about something is precisely when they do. Most of them, at least, won't be able to hide it."

Erik shakes his head and sits up all the way, his arm getting tired of propping him up. Charles follows suit, sitting up beside him.

"No." Erik says. "That's too dangerous. Even if they think they're not thinking about it or…whatever, if you ask them someone will figure out that you've probably learned the truth. And if they're really trying to hide it—if they even know—then it could put you in danger. Maybe all of us."

Charles looks at him for a moment, and then scowls and looks away. "I suppose I didn't think of it like that…"

"Because you try to think the best of everyone; it didn't occur to you that if they're trying to hide something they might have no qualms about hurting people to keep the secret."

"All right, all right, but…somehow I still don't think it would be the Council anyone would be in any danger from. I still don't believe they're quite like that. Just…misguided, perhaps. Or threatened."

"Who or what they might be covering for, then?"

"Perhaps…"

Charles is quiet after that, thinking maybe, and Erik thinks too, trying to reconcile the risks there might be with the problems they both know need to be addressed. He wishes it were easy to decide which risks would and would not be acceptable.

It doesn't help that he's hopelessly biased, when it comes to Charles's safety and the rest of their family.

"Look…maybe there's a way your idea can still work," he says at length.

"How?"

"I bring it up. Without you there. You won't be anywhere near there. Even if you were, say, here at home, if you stayed with me it would be easy enough to move to their thoughts, wouldn't it?"

"Of course," Charles says, brightening a bit. "And that wouldn't raise nearly as many suspicions as if I barged in on them…"

"It wouldn't raise any at all. I've complained in meetings before. It wouldn't be anything new to them. Just a new question. They would never suspect you would be picking anything up at all. Most people here know you're a telepath, but I don't think anyone outside the family really understands how wide your range is."

"Wonderful. There's a meeting tomorrow, isn't there?"

But now Erik frowns again. "There is, but I'm not going."

"Why on earth not?"

"I didn't want to go into town today; I'm not leaving the house again. Not this week," Erik says shortly. Firmly. If he hadn't said it that way it would have come out weak and afraid, and that isn't what Charles needs from him. "We have a plan now; that's enough. We can carry it out once you're well again."

For several long seconds there's silence, and then Charles says the one thing Erik didn't want him to say.

"And what if I'm not? Ever?"

Erik makes a face as if physically struck. "Don't say that."

"We've been over this, Erik. You've made me promises—"

"And if I have to, I'll keep them," Erik bites out painfully.

Charles looks him in the eyes, and he wants to duck away from the gaze but he can't. "It will be hard to, if you don't even know what it is you're up against. If I can provide at least that now, while I can, I want to do it. In case I can't later. In case that's all I can do."

"But isn't it dangerous to attempt something like that before the tumor is out?" he questions desperately.

"I wouldn't think so."

"But he said it's your powers that may have directed the radiation to your brain. If you use them at that level—"

"Whatever radiation I absorbed as a child is already there if that's the case. It's had its effect. There isn't anything left to direct. And if—"

"Charles…"

But he continues, if not quite steadily. "If it's cancer, it will only get worse, and eventually it will affect my abilities. We need to do this now. You need to go to that meeting tomorrow night."

Erik groans in frustration and scrubs a hand over his face, wishing he had the strength to be so brave in front of what Charles might be facing. What they might be facing. Charles has already admitted how frightened he is, and still he insists on telling everything as it is…

Erik can't help but admire his husband for it, but it doesn't quell his own fear any at all.

Though either way, as much as he hates to admit it, Charles isn't wrong.

"All right," he huffs finally. "All right…"


But the next morning, despite how relatively well he seemed to have felt the day before, Charles is in too much pain to get out of bed.

He doesn't say anything; he just doesn't get up. And Erik can see it on his face even if no one else would be able to tell.

"Charles?" Erik is up and dressed now. He didn't see it until he he'd groggily changed and turned around again. He thought Charles was still asleep before, but he isn't. He's on his side squinting at nothing, clutching the blankets to his chest, and someone else might think he was thinking, but Erik knows he's hurting.

"Charles?" He crouches by the bed, putting himself in his husband's line of sight. Charles blinks and focuses on him, but the smile can't hide the grimace.

"Good morning, Erik."

Erik reaches to push the hair from his face, but just the bit that motion nudges Charles's head pulls a sudden unsteady breath from his throat. His eyes clench shut. "Mmmm! Don't—" He grimaces openly, knowing he's caught now anyway.

Erik quickly pulls his hand away and swallows. "Maybe this isn't the best day for this."

"Erik, they…only have meetings every two weeks. Two weeks from now I could be recovering from surgery, and not be able to do anything at all." His voice is quiet, and he doesn't open his eyes.

"I don't think you could do anything now."

"Not now, but it's only morning. I'll be fine by tonight. There's plenty of time, and it's usual for it to be worse in the morning anyhow…"

"Is it usual for it to be this bad?" Erik challenges.

Charles lets his eyes crack open a bit. "Well…no, but—"

Erik's fingers curl over his husband's hands. "Do we need to get you to the infirmary?"

"No…there isn't anything they can do anyway…"

"Or are you just afraid they might keep you there?" Charles doesn't answer. "That would be a better alibi, actually, than simply not being at the Council building."

"Then you agree with me; this needs to be done today—"

"Only if you're feeling better by tonight. I don't want you trying anything at all if you're still hurting too much."

Charles scowls. "I don't want to go to the infirmary," he insists quietly. "I want to be here."

Erik knows it isn't any use trying to persuade him, and though his stomach is in knots he doesn't mention the infirmary again. "Then at least stay in bed today."

Charles almost smiles. "I don't believe that will be a problem for now…"

"No, I mean even if it gets better later. Just stay. Rest. Until tonight. Can you promise me you'll do that?"

"I suppose…" And for once there isn't any grudging behind the concession. That doesn't bode well for the amount of pain Charles must be in right now, and when Erik nods thankfully he does it slowly.

"I uhm…good." Charles's eyes are already closed again, and there isn't any use in Erik saying anything else before he gets back to his feet and goes to find breakfast for Bobby and Kitty and Ororo and ask Ororo to bring the twins to Raven for the day on her way to school.

Jean comes downstairs just as they're leaving, and realizes that Erik is there but Charles isn't up. "How's Mom?" she asks, but warily, as if she already knows the answer. She probably does.

Erik closes the cupboards he'd been pulling things from to make the younger children's lunches, and answers unwillingly. "Not good right now."

She makes immediately for the bedroom door, and Erik hurries to catch her arm. "No, Jean, wait. We should just let him rest; there's nothing else you can do."

"Or maybe there is," she counters.

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been working on something, okay? Maybe I can help." She waits, but he doesn't release her.

"Explain," he says instead.

"I can't. You aren't a telepath; you wouldn't understand. Come on, Dad, do you want him in there hurting? I think I can help!"

He lets her go, reluctantly, hoping she can help but worrying that she won't be able to do whatever she thinks she'll be able to. He follows her into the bedroom and they find Charles on his back now, head pressed desperately into the pillows as if that might do something, but he's quiet. His left arm is spasming; that hasn't happened before.

Erik all but launches himself past his daughter, making it to the bed first and climbing onto it to reach for his husband's face with one hand and hold the trembling limb in the other. "Charles? Can you hear me? Charles!"

He opens his eyes, but he doesn't say anything. Maybe he can't, and that thought is frightening enough, but Erik shuts it away and maintains eye contact until the trembling fingers twisted with his and held against his chest go still, and Charles lets out a breath and allows his neck to relax too. Instead of pressing his head into the pillow now he turns it ever so slightly into Erik's other hand that is resting there at his cheek.

"'Mm all right…"

"No you're not." Erik knows his voice is tight when he says it.

But Charles's attention is elsewhere now. "Jean…"

Erik had almost forgotten she was there. He looks back and she is on the edge of the bed, clearly trying to hide how upset she is. "Mom, I think I can help. Let me try. Please."

"I don't know what you can…" Charles trails off and he looks at her for a moment, frowning. "Are you sure?" She must have shown him, unable to really explain it to him any more than she could have explained it to Erik.

"I can do it," Jean insists. "You know you couldn't do it yourself. Let me try."

"But that's…a bit complicated. I don't want you to strain yourself." His voice is still weak, and Erik doesn't like it. It's too much like the way he sounded when he was carrying Bobby and Kitty.

"Who the hell cares if I strain myself a little? You're hurting, and it needs to stop," Jean huffs.

"You know it won't make any real difference."

"I know that. It won't fix anything, but at least you won't be in as much pain."

Charles looks at her for a long time, and Erik can't tell if they're saying anything silently or not, but when Charles looks at him instead he knows he needs to move. He shifts back on the bed for Jean to come in closer, and lets his hand slip away from his husband's face so his daughter can rest hers there instead. He has to release Charles's hand, too, to move back far enough for Jean to be where she indicates she needs to be, beside her mother. Unhappy, Erik settles for resting a hand on Charles's knee to let him know he isn't going anywhere.

Jean doesn't focus the same way Charles does. Rather than pressing any fingers to her own head she rests her other hand on Charles's head, and the first remains on his cheek. Charles wraps his own fingers around that wrist and looks at her seriously. "Stop if anything hurts you…"

"It's not going to hurt me."

"It may. Trying more difficult things can be painful at first."

"Then I should keep going so it won't hurt me later."

"Not if it's bad enough. If you don't do this correctly everything I'm feeling could double back onto you, and I don't want that."

Jean scowls a little. "I'm going to do it right."

"I'm just making sure you understand me…"

"I understand you. Be quiet so I can focus."

Charles actually listens to her—lets his eyes close wearily and falls silent without any more argument—and the twist in Erik's stomach turns a little farther, enough that he actually hunches over now.

Why can't he breathe?

Jean's eyes close too, and at first it doesn't look like anything is happening at all, but then again he wouldn't know anyway, would he?

A bit longer, and Charles's brow furrows, and Jean's head ducks more than she'd already bowed it to focus.

"Jean, be careful," Erik says, before he remembers he shouldn't distract her.

"Be quiet, Dad," she all but growls. She makes a sound then that might be pain, and Erik's parental instincts kick in and he reaches for her but she shakes his hand from her shoulder.

"Jean—" Charles gasps. His hand tightens on her wrist.

"I've got it!" she hisses.

Charles groans, eyes still closed, and Erik doesn't think twice about speaking aloud this time. "If you don't, stop. Don't hurt yourself. Or your mother."

"I'm not—There. Mom, see? I can…" She trails off, concentrating, and Charles quiets with her. Erik watches, wishing he knew what was really going on in there, and after another minute or two the crease in Charles's brow eases away, and he relaxes more than he has all morning. Erik can feel the knot in his stomach untwisting as both Charles and Jean open their eyes. Jean pulls her arms back, and Charles takes a deep breath.

"I told you I could do it," Jean says. Charles looks at her, eyebrows up, and she smiles. "Are you okay? Can you sit up?" Charles nods and takes her offered hand to help. Erik would move to help, too, but he supposes he's still a bit shocked. He watches Jean help her mother sit up against the headboard, and Charles is still looking at her in amazement. He blinks every so often, still squinting just a little, but he is obviously in much less pain than before.

"Mom?" Jean asks.

Charles reaches to brush her cheek, and finally he smiles. "I am so proud of you," he says softly. "Thank you."

"I don't know how long it'll last…"

"That's all right."

Jean hugs him, and she holds on for a long time and Charles doesn't seem to mind. When she pulls back she kisses his cheek and starts to stand. "You should still rest though. And I've got to go; I'm late meeting Scott…he'll think I abandoned him," she says in amusement.

"Go on then."

She goes, looking back more than once, and Erik gets up to follow her. I'll be right back, he tells his husband. Charles, knowing what he's up to, doesn't really reply; there's only a feeling of understanding in response.

"Jean."

He closes the bedroom door behind him and catches her out in the main room, just before she can get out the front door, and she turns back. "Huh?"

Erik can't decide exactly what to say at first, but he knows he has to say something. "You know it's not that I don't trust you..."

Jean relaxes and nods back easily. "I know. It's fine. You were just worried about Mom."

"And you."

She flashes him a smile in answer. "Just take care of Mom. I'll be back as soon as I can," she says. Then she's gone, and Erik retreats back into the bedroom.

Charles is still sitting up, looking much better than he did a few minutes ago.

Erik lowers himself onto the bed and sighs, studying his husband. "You're really all right?"

"I am," Charles nods honestly, actually moving his head normally, and that tells Erik that whatever Jean did, it really did make a difference.

"Okay…you're better at explaining these things to the uninitiated; why don't you tell me what the hell she did?"

Charles rubs at a temple, frowning at he tries to figure that one out. "As I said, it's rather complicated…"

"Try."

"Well…I suppose the easiest way to put it is that she…hid it. The pain. She helped me to mask it. It's still there, of course, and I know it's still there, but I don't…really feel much of it. It's difficult to explain. But I can function now."

"Charles, you're more powerful than she is. Why couldn't you do it yourself?"

"Because it isn't something I could have done for myself. She mentioned that, if you'll remember. I couldn't have because it doesn't work that way. She was able to do it for me, and I could do it for someone else—anyone, even someone who wasn't a telepath; it has nothing to do with that—but I couldn't have done it for myself. Maybe that makes some sort of sense, at least."

"Only some," Erik admits skeptically.

Charles shrugs and his gaze shifts to the closed bedroom door. "I had no idea she had come far enough to do something like that. Sometimes even elements of simple control still escape her, but...I suppose she was determined enough…" He shakes his head. "I don't know. But it worked. I'm all right. Mostly."

"She was right though; you should still rest." Charles nods in reluctant agreement, this time wincing a just a bit. But then he smiles, and it comes much more easily than the one he tried to fake just after Erik caught him awake. He reaches for Erik's hand.

"Stay with me?"

That Erik doesn't have any trouble agreeing to. He moves back against the headboard beside his husband, letting Charles lean into his chest and wrapping his arms around him.

"If we're still going to do this tonight, I want someone here with you," Erik tells him after a moment. "In case something goes wrong. And I would prefer if it were Hank; he's more likely to know what to do."

"I suppose after worrying you that badly it's the least I can agree to in return," Charles sighs.

Erik kisses the side of his head. "Thank you." Then he's quiet, letting Charles rest. Soon enough Charles is asleep again, but Erik doesn't move.


Charles wakes in the early afternoon feeling much better than he did before. The blocks Jean put in place are still holding, but not very needed. Telling Erik that is enough to ease him mind about carrying out their plan of action, but he still insists on asking Hank to stay at the house while he's gone. Hank comes, bringing the twins back from spending the day with Raven.

They choose not to tell their son what they're up to; Erik simply tells him that Charles had some problems with the pain that morning, and he would feel better if Hank were there while he isn't. Hank believes that easily, because it's true. Charles knows Erik is still worried about him, and he knows Hank sees that easily enough when he's asked.

Charles remains in bed the rest of the day as requested, and only ventures out to the kitchen table with a book just before Hank arrives and Erik leaves.

"Don't put yourself in any danger," Erik reminds him.

"It will be all right; I'll get what we need, and no one will be the wiser. Trust me," Charles answers.

Erik reports to the regular Council meeting, Charles following the thread of his thoughts and what he sees from the beginning. He knows when Erik arrives, and when he finds his seat in the wide room of tables semi-circled around the front of the low platform at the head of the room. There are tables on the platform for the elders, and the tables on the floor are for the junior members.

Most of the meeting is dull—unfortunately much duller than the book Charles is only pretending to read—but Erik finds his opening eventually, under the right category of issue, and Charles can't help but feel a certain sense of pride as his husband berates and questions the other leading members of their city.

It really is something, apparently, that Erik has done before. Many of the junior members Charles can sense agreeing with him, but he can sense the elders' annoyance and near boredom as Erik goes on, and at first he worries that they won't even notice when Erik asks the question they need answered.

Do any of you really think about what we're really doing to people? To our children? I KNOW enough of you think about it. I'm not the only one to have ever said anything; I'm only the only one who continues to. We all know someone who has been hurt or disappointed by this system. The population HAS grown…why do we need it anymore? If we're all that unhappy with it, why don't we do anything about it? We could get rid of it if we wanted to. Why don't we? Erik pauses. What's stopping us? Whose creation was it anyway?

They notice. Charles focuses quickly, hoping they'll think enough to give him what he needs.

He gets much more than he hoped for.


They ignore him again, of course. Or rather, the elders ignore him and the others of his level don't protest, even though he can tell that many of them want to.

They're all used to routine by now. To the unspoken rules.

The pairing system is one thing you don't mess with.

Well, to hell with that.

Erik goes home trying to keep his nervous energy in check, not wanting to raise any suspicion after the trouble they went to to refine the plan to avoid such a thing. Do you have anything? He asks, and directs the thought to Charles's presence that he can feel in the back of his mind.

I have quite enough, actually…come home. Charles sounds a bit distant, but only in the thoughtful sense, and Erik supposes he's already attempting to sort out everything he gathered and doesn't worry. When he makes it home Charles is still at the kitchen table, though he's frowning deeply into his book now.

Erik thanks Hank for staying with him, and Charles finally looks up distractedly and thanks him, too. Hank leaves, maybe a little confused, and then Erik and Charles are alone.

Erik goes quickly to the table and pulls a chair beside his husband's. "Well?"

Charles turns to face him slowly, their knees bumping each other between them. Charles doesn't seem to notice.

"Charles?"

"It's worse than we thought," he says at length. "Or perhaps exactly as bad as we feared, depending on how one looks at it."

"There's someone behind all of this?"

Charles nods. "A man. Just one. An extremely powerful mutant. He had the technology and the idea for the genetic pairing system, and the power to show to force the settlements to agree to implement it." He scowls. "It seems he could easily have destroyed the cities if they had not done as he asked. As far as the elders here know, he went to each one…spoke to their leadership…formed a Council if they didn't have one…made sure they would never let anyone outside their circle know why they were maintaining the system, no matter how long it lasted. What they don't know is how far his influence spreads or why he did what he did."

"And is this man still alive? Still a threat?"

"Very much so. And they are all terrified of him. Every one of them had a face to go with the background, and there wasn't any variation. What was strange was that the man seemed almost too young to have been behind this from the beginning, but I suppose they could have been remembering the way he was then…though it is odd that all of them would do that. It's strange, but he must be older by now. Though, another strange thing was that while they all pictured the same face, not all of them associated it with the same name. There were two names."

None of it makes any more sense to Erik than it seems to make sense to Charles, but it's certainly somewhere to start.

"What names?"

"Sebastian Shaw and Klaus Schmidt."

Erik blinks, and his mouth is suddenly dry. He can't have heard that right. "What did you say?"

"Sebastian—"

"No, the other name," he says quickly.

Charles raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Klaus Schmidt?"

He heard right.

And now he can't breathe, and his ears are buzzing, and he can't see straight, as for the second time within a week Erik's world turns on its head.

It's only faintly in the background that he can still hear Charles's worried voice. "Erik? Erik, what's wrong? Erik…?"