Heyyyyyyyyyyy. So, it's been a bit. I sort of wrote myself into a corner, got anxious about that and avoided writing, then a lot of life stuff happened. Like, A LOT of life stuff. And then 2020 happened too. It's been a hell of a few years, but here we are!

I'm gonna be honest, I've moved out of this fandom. I haven't seen Days of Future Past (or, really, any X-Men-related media) in AGES. My original plan wasn't going to work (due to effort involved and Charles going in a direction that was pretty unredeemable), which led to the aforementioned corner and anxiety. I didn't want to leave this unfinished, though, so I finally got into a mental space where I could do some re-working and at least give this story a bit of closure. For me, this is more symbolic than anything else. I wrote these Onslaught stories during a fairly significant period of my life that it's time I close out.

All that to say, this will feel rushed. I basically made a montage of the major scenes to get the plot and characters to the conclusions I intended for them.

I suspect it will be evident in my writing style that this was written 4.5 years after the last chapter. It isn't what I meant it to be when I started it in 2014, but it's more than I thought it would be once 2019 hit with no hint of inspiration.

Basically, it is what it is. I'll leave it at that.

Chapter 10: Closure

"Seven more Trask employees have come down with that illness," Alex reported, tossing the newspaper onto the table they'd set up. If they were going to have meals in here, they may as well have a place to eat. It beat standing in front of the brainstorm board like a noir detective. "The media is calling it Sentinel Syndrome. Everyone who worked on the project is officially under observation for symptoms."

Raven didn't move from her place in front of the board. "You're saying that like I should care. They deserve whatever they get. We have other things to worry about."

Alex moved to stand beside her. The board had filled out more since Charles had re-surfaced, but, for the most part, it remained a confusing mess of newspapers, bulletins, and grainy photos. Almost immediately after announcing his hire, Columbia had started parading Charles around the region to give talks about mutants and mutation. It put them at the forefront of mutant genetics research and they were certainly seizing the moment – cultural and financial. The question was why. Not for the university, that was clear enough. But why would Onslaught throw himself into the open and anchor himself to one place? Why would he fund the re-establishment of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters?

"I'm not gonna shed tears over them," Alex admitted. "It's just…weird. Don't you think?"

"That a bunch of people working on genocidal technology would experience physical and mental repercussions? They were probably working with something they shouldn't. They were so desperate to kill us they didn't realize they were harming themselves along the way."

"But what could possibly cause this? It's not like they were creating nuclear weapons."

"We don't know that," Raven said. "How much do we know about what they were using the build those monstrosities?"

"I don't know of any material that causes mental breakdowns. According to the papers, most of these people are gibbering messes now."

Raven shrugged. "Creating something to kill people – to kill us – isn't enough to cause a mental break?"

"Honestly, for this group, no. I don't think it is. If it affected them, they wouldn't have killed so many of us along the way. And even if they were working with something toxic, isn't it weird that they figured it out within weeks of the project failing and Trask getting arrested?"

Raven hesitated. "It's stopping anyone from picking up where he left off at least. I think we should take it as a win and move on. If I had my way, they'd all be dead. That was my plan, you know. Before all this," she gestured at the board. "I wasn't there to save the president. I was there to kill Trask. I wouldn't have stopped after that."

"I'd wondered," Alex grimaced. Raven's propensity for violence was still taking some getting used to. He'd been a soldier, but, if anything, that had shown him the horrors of death and the effect taking lives had on people. He wanted vengeance as much as the next person, but there were other means to take.

Sometimes, for instance, they started getting a mysterious illness that no one had any explanation nor cure for.

"I'm glad I ended up buying us more time," Raven continued. "But public opinion changes. Eventually, they'll come for us again."

"How many of them are there anyway?" Alex asked. "People who worked on the Sentinel project you were going to go after."

Instead of answering, she pulled a list from a journal behind her and wordlessly handed it to him.

"This is all of them?"

Raven had turned back to the board. "Yeah. Dates and locations are when and where they got sick. I stopped updating dates and locations when everything went to hell with the contractor. Too much effort to track down names when the papers didn't give them. Not sure what it looks like now."

He skimmed the list. A little less than a quarter of the names had a date and location by them. He hadn't paid that close attention to the papers, but he had made a point to track names. Good to know who's trying to kill you and all that. He frowned. "A little over half these people have been institutionalized already."

That seemed to startle Raven. She snatched the list back and stared at it. "Over half? In the past few weeks?"

Alex shrugged. "Since the White House."

"Damn. That's…escalated." She didn't sound particularly upset by it, more curious. Which was sensible. Something was taking out the list of people she'd intended to target. "I guess if they ever figure out what's causing it, I can send it a gift basket, toxic material or not."

Alex snorted as Raven set the list down and handed him a file. "See what you can make of Charles' latest series of seminars. I have to meet the contractor to talk about final adjustments."

"How many times have we talked to them about final adjustments?"

"This is the fourth. And the last if I have any say in it. The school has to open on schedule, so…"

"Good luck," Alex smirked.

Alex turned back to the board as the door shut behind her, flipping open the folder to find flyers with Charles' face staring back at him. What were they supposed to do with this? It was more of the same. A lecture on this, a Q&A on that. Plans for travel were new, but not necessarily exciting.

He set the file down and slid the list of names back over. Something was poking at him saying the list was important. He was no good at lectures and science talk, but he wasn't too bad at finding patterns, and something in his gut was telling him there was something here.

He picked up a pen and started making notes.

Erik walked into a café, focus zeroing in almost immediately – and involuntarily – on a corner table away from the rabble.

He clenched his jaw and slid into the seat across from Charles, who sat demurely sipping tea as if this were a normal meet-up of old friends.

"Hello, Erik," Charles said with a smile.

"Onslaught," Erik returned, clipped.

The smile morphed into a leer. "Actually, I go by Professor as of late."

Erik scoffed.

Charles set his tea down. "You didn't tell them you were coming to see me, did you?"

"You didn't give me much choice in the matter. Why did you summon me?"

"Summon? Such a strong word."

"What else would you call the sudden overwhelming impulse to come here?"

"An invitation?"

"I was mid-conversation. I could barely stop myself from leaving right then a there."

"A strong invitation."

"Why?" Erik grit out. "You could just as easily have spoken to me telepathically."

Charles put on an expression of mock surprise. "I thought you didn't like it when I was in your head. Is that an invitation?"

"You know it's not," Erik growled. "What's the difference between a conversation and forcing me to meet you?"

"Hm, fair point I suppose. I wanted to see how you were faring. Is it so wrong to want to check in with friends?"

"We're not friends."

Charles took a sip of his tea. "Aren't we? I am genuinely curious about how you are. All that power and motivation, gone," he said with a snap of his fingers.

"Taken," Erik corrected. "What's it like to care what happens to your brethren?"

"I've always cared," Charles returned, unaffected. "I just show it differently than publicly threatening mass murder."

Erik bristled. He certainly wasn't going to give into Onslaught's game. And, much as he hated it, he may as well get information while he was here. Assuming Onslaught let him remember it. "How did you get a job at Columbia?"

"I have a PhD and I'm rather well-qualified when it comes to research on mutant genetics."

"Yes," Erik said begrudgingly, "but how did you get it so quickly?"

"You've always said we shouldn't hide our mutations. They were considering me anyway. Strongly considering, even. I don't see how a little push in the right direction changes anything. Are you fishing for information?"

"Why am I here?"

Charles sighed. "Honestly, I called you because I was bored. So many bright minds here, yet none of them understand like you do."

"Understand what?"

"Loss," Charles said, matter-of-factly.

"You know nothing of loss," Erik snapped.

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Ten years is a long time. My loss may not look like yours, but that doesn't make me any less qualified to suffer from it."

"Fine. We've both lost things. You're up to something and I want to know what it is."

"So demanding," Charles said with a chuckle. "I'm helping. You'll see when the time is right."

"We'll stop you."

"Best of luck with that," Charles said, expression turning dark. "You asked me why I summoned you. I summoned you because I could. Do not threaten me, Erik. I've been kind enough to allow you to live up to this point. I wouldn't want to have to change my mind. Oh, and you won't need to worry about being summoned, as you call it, for the next three weeks. I'm on a lecture tour. I'm sure we'll be in touch when I get back."

Charles finished his tea and started wheeling away. As he passed, Erik grabbed his arm.

"Charles, please. This isn't you. Whatever you're doing, stop it. One day, this will haunt you."

Charles smiled, though it looked worn. "One day, perhaps."

And then he was gone.

It had been a mistake to summon Erik. The man always brought out the worst in him, yet he couldn't stay away. He had been curious as to how Erik was doing with what must be a truly new and confusing approach to life. Not being driven to act. Just…living.

Charles almost envied him.

He'd been feeling odd as of late. The man – Jonathan – had nearly died. The paramedics only just gotten him to the hospital in time. He'd recover, then no doubt join his colleagues in the institution.

A man had nearly died, and Charles wasn't sure how he felt about that.

You, Mr. Moral Compass – sorry, Dr. Moral Compass – aren't sure how you feel about murder? Onslaught scoffed.

Murder certainly hadn't been his intention. At least he didn't think it had been. Mentally maim, sure, but he didn't mean for the man to-

And Onslaught was increasingly distracted. Almost antsy. His rejoinders lacked their usual spark. If he didn't know any better, he'd say his other half almost seemed depressed. It was a feeling Charles didn't miss, so he chose not to think about it too terribly much.

It didn't matter. Everything was going according to plan. Well, aside from the one hiccup that was Jonathan. Which he still wasn't sure how he felt about. More than anything, he felt nothing at all about it. And wasn't that interesting?

It was all for the greater good. For the school, his students, and his family to survive and thrive.

Natural selection, but with a nudge.

Off to the side, Onslaught glowered but said nothing.

That was okay. Charles was happy to take the reins.

Hank was supposed to teach science. To a bunch of mutant children. In his now-permanent blue furry mess of a body. It was also quite possible he was, as Raven might put it, wallowing. Justifiably so. He'd been betrayed. By his friends. By his mentor. By pretty much anyone who had ever meant something to him.

This wasn't how his life was supposed to go. He was a scientist. He was going to work in a lab and advance the field, share discoveries at conferences, maybe even get applause every now and again. Instead, he was here, stuck in a mansion in Westchester, unable to go outside for fear of being seen, unable to do the work he'd trained so long to undertake.

He hated having Erik around. He hated that Charles was dictating his life even when Charles wasn't there. Alex and Raven were trying to reach out to him, but they'd abandoned him too, so he slapped away their advances. After all, why should he trust them now? They'd leave again anyway.

He glanced around the lab. It was stocked again, possibly more well-stocked than it had ever been. Perhaps it was Charles' way of apologizing for taking the serum from him after he'd devoted years of his life to Charles' care. It certainly gave him enough materials to take his pick of research questions and start exploring them. Yet here he was. Wallowing.

How was he supposed to move forward when he was frozen in the sentiments of the past?

Was this what Charles had felt like? Or Onslaught? Or perhaps he shouldn't talk about them as separate entities at all. At their heart, they were one being, much as Raven liked to differentiate them.

Hank couldn't very well repress his negative emotions. Look where that had gotten Charles. Stuck with a negative psychic alter ego. Not that it would manifest the same in a non-telepath, but the comparison was there. Hank could feel himself becoming another person. Angry. Cynical. He barely recognized himself.

Betrayed as Hank was, he didn't want that. He didn't want to be a vengeful creature. A Beast.

He could sit and wallow or he could accept that horrible things had happened, that he'd wasted a decade of his life, and move on. It was something he should have done years ago, dragging Charles out with him if he had to. But he hadn't, so he'd just have to settle for doing it on his own now.

He could still be the person – the mutant – he'd wanted to be. A researcher. A scientist. A teacher. He could rebuild. Be his own person.

There was a lot he wasn't in control of right now: his appearance, what was happening at the school, who was in the house.

But there were things he could control. And control them he would.

He sat at the work bench and fished out a notebook. With a deep breath and a decisive nod, he started making lesson plans.

Hank had offered to take over training some of the new kids. Alex had been taken off guard. Shocked, really. No, shocked wasn't strong enough a word, but he didn't have a better one, so he was going to stick with it.

He wasn't sure what had happened. One day Hank was vindictive, reclusive, and tossing caustic comments at anyone who approached him, especially Alex. The next he was…not apologizing, but asking about training the new kids, getting involved. Whatever his issues had been, it seemed he was working through them. There was still progress to be made. That hopeless, helpless look still appeared more often than Alex would like. But he always pulled himself out of it and that was what mattered. The two of them had even talked. Their conversation was stilted, tense in a way that spoke to perceived betrayal and sought-after repentance. They were working on it.

It was certainly more progress than they'd made with Charles.

The school was taking up most of their time. The opening was looming and, while Charles had taken care of most of the overarching details, their rag-tag group of broken, vastly underqualified "adults" had to figure out the minutia of hiring and day-to-day scheduling, all while entertaining and caring for a growing group of mutant children and teenagers. And sheltering a fugitive in the form of Erik Lehnsherr. Let's not forget that.

He and Raven had taken the brunt of that work, with Hank remaining withdrawn until recently and Erik…well, he honestly wasn't sure what Erik did. He mostly seemed to be living his life? He stayed away from the recruits thankfully, though Alex had caught him watching them train from a distance a few times. Other than that, he'd eat, read, occasionally comment on their discussions of Charles, and spend large swaths of time disappearing onto the grounds.

The information on their board was growing – more articles and flyers, some notes and theories, but nothing that had played out enough to be confirmed yet. Alex was still taking notes about Sentinel Syndrome. Almost 75% of the Sentinel project was in various institutions now. So far, no one had been able to figure out what was causing their condition – severe mental decline, hallucinations, emotional distress. A few investigators were braving the project's laboratories to sample materials, but, for the most part fear, was keeping people away. The working theory was that some combinations of chemicals or alloys had affected workers' brain function after extended exposure.

There had been no news or updates on Trask himself. Surely, he'd be affected too if it was a toxin from the Sentinels.

He still felt no sympathy for any of them. They were monsters, far more dangerous than anyone he'd faced in the war. They'd murdered Sean like rat in an experiment. Yet, the puzzle kept poking at him. Call it morbid curiosity, but he wanted to know what it was that could cause so many symptoms with such rapid onset and decline.

He looked up at the board then down to his notes again.

Wait.

He stepped closer to the board, scrutinizing the diagram they had mapping Charles' travel. He looked down at the list of Trask employees, their locations, and their dates of symptom manifestation.

"Holy crap."

"What?"

Raven had snuck in at some point, carrying two plates of food. Right. They were meeting for lunch to go over the final rosters for student courses. He'd completely forgotten. She was looking at him expectantly now.

"I, uh, I might have figured something out. But only just now. It's not…it might be stupid."

"Great," she said, dropping the food on the paper-covered table and striding over. She peeked at the paper in his hand. "I love a good stupid idea. What did you find?"

"So I've been keeping track of the Trask employees."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Why?"

"Curiosity mostly. My gut told me there was something there. And I think there was. Is. You see this gap in diagnoses? When they pick up again, it corresponds with the employees who had moved out to California in the interim showing symptoms."

"Right. The ones who tried to get away from being associated with the program."

"Exactly. There were more who did the same. Mostly to cities, a few to more academic settings like," he skimmed down the page, "this one in Nebraska. They've all come down with the Sentinel Syndrome since then. That's not what's interesting though."

Raven raised her eyebrows. "And are you going to get to what's interesting before we have a graduating class or…?"

Alex snorted. "Get this. Every one of the diagnoses that took place out-of-state happened within two weeks of Charles lecturing nearby."

He paused to let it sink in. Raven had frozen, staring at the map before snatching the paper from Alex's hand.

"How accurate is this?"

"I didn't write anything down that I wasn't sure about."

"Some of these are pretty far out from where Charles was."

"No more than 250 miles. He's powerful, right? It can't be a coincidence that these people are all coming down with mental symptoms within two weeks of the world's most powerful, currently morally-questionable telepath being nearby." Raven stayed silent. "I don't want this to be true. Tell me I've been staring at it too long, that I'm seeing things that aren't there. Tell me you think it's a coincidence and I'll drop it."

Raven stared open-mouthed at the paper then up to the map. "I don't know if I can."

The door cracked and Erik stepped in. "Oh my, did I walk in on something?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Raven said, still coordinating the information between the paper and the board.

"Your faces say differently," Erik said. "If you've figured something out about Charles, I deserve to know."

"You don't deserve anything," Alex snapped. "I don't even know why you're still here."

Erik shrugged and sat by the chessboard. "I heard you were discussing student rosters. Thought I'd keep you company."

"You just want to know what all the students can do."

Erik shrugged again. Before he could respond, Hank burst into the room, guiding the redhead girl who had joined them not too long ago. The redhead flicked her eyes to the brainstorm board and frowned. Raven stepped in front of it, blocking half of it from her view. Alex moved to block the other half. Charles' involvement with the school was no secret, but his…condition wasn't something they wanted anyone to know about, especially not when he was such a public figure.

Which, now that he thought about it, was probably part of his master plan, if only because he'd have easy access to travel and excuses to go a variety of places Trask employees happened to be near. Damn.

"What the hell, Hank?" Raven said, voice raised.

"I- she-" Hank stuttered. Jeez, had he run here with her from the training area?

"I may be able to help you," the girl said.

Raven paused. "Help us with what?"

The girl's eyes flicked to the board again, then back to Raven.

Raven narrowed her eyes. "How?"

The girl looked at Hank. He gave an encouraging nod. "I can feel someone. He's powerful. There are two of him," she sounded confused at that, but sure of herself, "but it's the same person."

Hank stared at Alex and Raven with his eyebrows raised. Raven and Alex exchanged their own glances. "Remind me of your name," Raven said.

"Jean."

"Telepathy, right?"

Jean nodded.

"Okay, Jean," Raven said with forced calmness, "first off, is he making you feel like you're in danger?"

Jean's brow furrowed. "No."

"Good," Raven said, relieved. "That's good. Can you tell me where he is? What he's doing?"

"He's sad."

Raven frowned. "Sad?"

"One of him isn't happy with what he's doing. The other is…lost."

"Lost," Raven murmured.

"That would make sense, right?" Alex asked. "Charles not being happy and-" he glanced at Jean then back to Raven "-the other is a lost cause, right?"

"That isn't-" Jean started.

"That means there's hope then," Raven interrupted. "If Charles isn't happy, then maybe we can talk to him. Get him to come back."

"To what end?" Hank asked. "If half of him really is lost, do we really want to bring him to a school?"

"I doubt he would threaten the children he's spent so much effort gathering," Erik said. He was watching Jean with a curious gleam in his eye. Jean glanced away from him, visibly uncomfortable. Hank stepped between them, blocking her from Erik's line of sight with a glare.

"Erik may be right," Raven admitted, "but I don't want to risk it without knowing for sure. I need to talk to him."

"How?" Alex asked. "You and Erik have both gone out trying to talk to him and ended up with nothing but lost time and a taxi bill back to the school. How are you going to talk to him when he won't even let you approach him?"

"I think I can contact him," Jean blurted.

"NO," multiple voices shouted. Then Raven, calmer, added, "No, Jean, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked. "He wants to be here."

The room paused.

"What do you mean?" Hank asked slowly.

"He's sad because he's away from all of you," Jean said. "He doesn't think he can come back. Not anymore."

Raven stood, staring at the floor, taking measured breaths. They all watched her. At some point, she had become their de facto leader. Alex wasn't sure when, but he had no argument against it. Her certainly didn't envy her now.

"The one who isn't happy about what he's doing, can you send a message to only him?" Raven asked.

"I'm not sure," Jean responded. "I can try?"

"What are you thinking?" Alex asked.

"I'm thinking this may be our in. Jean, if you don't mind me asking, how powerful are you?"

Hank sputtered. "Hold on now, we can't ask anything of her. She's a kid. One of our students. We're supposed to protect her."

"It's okay," Jean said. "I want to help. You're all sad. All the time. I can feel it. I don't know how powerful I am, but I can feel you all and I can feel him."

"Does he know you can feel him?" Raven asked.

Jean cocked her head to the side and looked up. "I don't think so."

"Hank?"

"She's strong," Hank admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's all I can really tell you. Our only comparisons are Emma Frost and Charles and I haven't had enough time to run the proper tests. That said," he pursed his lips, "she does seem to have easy control over her abilities to a degree that rivals Charles. But I don't like the idea of her going anywhere near him."

Jean offered him a small smile. "Thank you. But, like I said, I want to help."

Raven took another breath, indecisiveness transitioning to determination. "Can you let the one who isn't happy about what he's doing know that I want to talk to him. Only him. It's important that only that one gets the message. If you can't do that, it's better not to send a message at all."

Jean gave a tentative nod. "I think I can do it."

"Don't think you can do it," Raven commanded. "Know you can. If you don't know, don't do it. The other one, the one who's lost…I'm not trying to scare you, but he's dangerous."

Jean stood, contemplative, then gave a short nod. "I can do it."

And, just like that, things were in motion again.

Jean hadn't waited to convey the message to Charles. Before the day was done, she'd come back to Raven, reporting that she'd passed Raven's sentiments along and that the response had felt positive. It was more of a sense than an actual response, though, so she had no way to know if or when contact might happen.

It turned out Raven didn't have to wait long. She had nodded off that night and found herself in Charles' old office. Her brother was sat behind his desk, hands over his face, slouched over a set of papers with names and faces she vaguely recognized as Trask employees.

"Charles?" Raven breathed.

"Not quite," the figure said, muffled, then dragged his hands down his face until they sat steepled to prop up his chin. Dull orange eyes shone back at her.

Raven stumbled back. "Onslaught."

Onslaught quirked a small smile and held up a hand, waving his fingers in greeting. He looked worn.

"I- how?" she stuttered.

Had he intercepted Jean's message? Had she really sent Jean into the lion's den and allowed Onslaught access to the girl's mind?

Onslaught chuckled, sounding tired. "Nothing you're thinking of. Your message came through just fine. As intended, even."

"It was meant to go to Charles," she snapped.

"It was meant to go to the one who wasn't happy about what he was doing."

It took a minute for it to sink in. When it did, it took the breath out of her.

"You. You're the one who isn't happy with what you're doing. But that would mean-"

"Oh, yes," Onslaught said, sympathetic, "I'm afraid dear Charles is quite lost at the moment."

Her mind was racing. "How? Why?"

"It's rather complicated. Or perhaps not. It's hard to tell."

His exhaustion was getting more palpable as the conversation went on. He seemed decidedly unhappy with whatever turn of events had led them here. That begged the question…

"You love watching people suffer. Why aren't you more…"

"Chuffed?" he said with a sour look on his face. "I love watching people suffer when Charles doesn't. If the past few months have taught me anything, it's that he's the only one that matter. I'm nothing but a puppet, a projection. Charles' very own portrait of Dorian Gray to pour all his undesirable thoughts into. So what happens when those undesirable thoughts suddenly become desirable? What do I become? I am what he is not. I thought I might finally be gaining my freedom, but that is all I am. All I'll ever be. Never my own. Always tethered to him. Dependent."

Raven stood wide-eyed in front of her brother's doppelganger and watched as he had what appeared to be a vivid existential crisis.

What? Just…what? What was happening?

"You're saying," she started carefully, "that his isn't what you wanted. Which would mean that all this was Charles' idea?"

"If by this, you mean everything after we woke up after the White House, then yes."

"Stealing Hank's memory, knocking us all out, the school, the- the Trask employees."

"Ah, so you've put that together then."

Raven wilted. "It's true? Alex was right?"

"They were in the way of his endgame. Our endgame." Onslaught's brow twitched down a bit at the distinction.

"He wouldn't-"

"But I would? I hate to break it to you, but if I would, then so would he."

He would. Normally, she'd be inclined to accuse Onslaught of lying, but now? If he was putting on a front, it was a hell of a convincing one. And why would he? He was haggard, run down in a way that spoke to devastation and misery. He was edging towards the way Charles had looked when she'd first encountered him a few weeks ago.

Exactly the kind of feelings someone would be desperate to avoid. Feelings that anyone with their very own portrait of Dorian Gray would happily push off where no one could see.

Much as she would love to delve deeper into that, they were on a time crunch. She wasn't going to get to talk with Charles, but she could get as much information as she could for when she did.

"Charles is driving Trask employees insane somehow. Why?"

Onslaught flipped through some of the files on the desk. "You've articulated that quite well in the past, I think. And the results speak for themselves. No one with knowledge of Sentinels can share it and, if they did, they'd be considered the mad ramblings of a crazy person. Everyone else is terrified to pick up the project for fear of triggering the same reaction. Until they can identify the root cause of the insanity, they're far less likely to try to replicate it," Onslaught gave a melancholic smirk. "And they won't figure out the root cause. Do you know how he does it?"

"Do I want to?" The vision of the kind brother who had taken her in was already thoroughly cracked. She didn't want it to shatter.

Onslaught smiled. Again, it was melancholic. "He makes them see the mutants they killed. All day, every day, their victims attack them and wear them down, use their own thoughts and doubts and knowledge against them, until they can't take it anymore. Sometimes drugs are involved, but never at Charles' behest. So, arguably, he isn't really doing anything. In the end, it's their own minds that break them."

Raven sat down hard in one of the chairs in front of the desk. She wanted all of these people dead. Her goal was being met. But she hadn't wanted it to be Charles. Was this how he'd felt when he'd been begging her to keep her hands clean? When he'd made her into an involuntary savior by convincing her to save the president, to spare Trask?

"That was my goal. For all of them to die. For the Sentinel project to get buried. There's more to it, though. What's the endgame?" she asked.

"Smart girl," Onslaught said. "What else are we doing?"

She almost rolled her eyes. Of course he'd make it a freakin' learning opportunity. Heaven forbid he just tell her what's happening.

"Play along," Onslaught warned. "He and I, we're the same. I cannot betray him and his plan."

He gave a knowing look. Raven frowned. It was almost like Onslaught wanted to help her. He couldn't give away the plan, restrained by his tether to Charles, but he could hint.

Oh.

He was trying to help.

He was everything Charles wasn't and he was trying to help them stop him. Or, perhaps, save him. Which, in turn, meant Charles didn't want to be saved.

She took a shuddering breath. "He gathered us. Sent Alex and a bunch of kids and set up a school."

"Where all of you will stay. Together."

Raven frowned. "Right. But what does that have to do with the Trask employees?"

"You were going to leave, right? Before Charles did."

"How did you know that?"

"Because I'm a telepath and also not blind. You were going to leave. What were you going to do?"

Realization dawned. "I was going to go after the Sentinel project."

"But now?"

"I don't have to. Because he's doing it for me."

"Precisely."

"He wants me to stay."

"Just you?"

Oh. "Hank won't leave when he looks…how he looks without the serum. Alex has nowhere else to go. Erik-"

"Erik is his own puzzle. Even I can't fully grasp my counterpart's ever-changing sentiments towards the glorious Magneto. Or, perhaps, not so glorious these days."

"He wants us all in one place, he gave us something to do – a purpose – through the school. He's building goodwill around mutants with his lectures."

"And if he's caught, it will all come tumbling down in the blink of an eye."

Raven paused. "Is he going to get caught?"

"He's lost his way, become reckless. You all put it together because you know him well. Others will not. Unless he makes a mistake."

Fear rose in her gut. "What mistake could he possibly make?"

"Imagine the being you thought I was. What would he have done?"

Raven frowned in confusion.

"There's a threat. Someone who knows more about the Sentinels than anyone else," Onslaught continued.

With stunning clarity, she saw Charles' next steps. "He's going to go after Trask."

Onslaught made a there-you-go gesture.

"After everything he did to stop me, he's going to do it himself?" she said, anger flaring.

"As I said, he's lost his way."

"Sexist prick, should have just let me do it," Raven grumbled. "What do we do about it? Why shouldn't I let him go for Trask?"

Even saying it made her wince. She didn't want Charles to do it. It was her task, and hers alone, even if her goals had shifted since the school came into being and she'd become the face of the heroic mutant race.

"He'll make it too personal. Be too trackable. He's already begun the process, but he wants to see the man before he puts the proverbial nail in the coffin."

"Already begun the process?"

"Mr. Trask has been getting quite a few invisible visitors in his cell. Lucky he's being held so close to New York."

"And Charles will go see him to see the effect it's having. Make it personal."

"Thus, making him trackable. The others were far enough away that the link is tenuous, but a telepath going to see Boliver Trask just before the man loses his mind? People will wonder, then they'll trace Charles' movements. Once you know what you're looking for, it's not too difficult to put together. With the right information."

"When is he going to see Trask?"

Onslaught glanced down to his hands, examining his fingernails. "How are things going with the school? Is everything prepared for the opening?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm simply asking if everything is on track for the school to open in, what, a few days, yes?" he asked with a pointed stare.

"The school opening," she breathed. "When we're all busy and can't go out looking for him. That's when he'll make his move."

Onslaught shrugged. "Perhaps."

"God, why are you so cagey? Just give me a straight answer. I'm trying to help you."

"You're not trying to help me. You're trying to help him," Onslaught snapped, then groaned. "And apparently so am I. Dammit," he shouted, smashing a paperweight against the wall. "Do you have any idea what this is like? All I feel is guilt and misery and pain. He's pushing off his hope and his depression and I'm left to suffer for it. I feel all the emotions that he felt before. I believe what he believed. What does that make me? Am I even Onslaught anymore? Or is he?"

Raven stared. It was, she supposed, a fair question. Philosophical. Just like Charles to bring up.

"What makes him Charles and me Onslaught?" Onslaught continued. "Is it the feelings? The actions we take? Or is it the suppressed status? Am I Onslaught because I'm suppressed or am I Charles because I long for a brighter future created by cooperation and optimism?" He spat the last bit like curses.

Onslaught looked up at her, half begging, half inquiring. "Who am I, Raven Darkholme?"

Raven sat up with a gasp in her bed, head echoing with new knowledge about the situation and a sense of dread at Onslaught's last question.

Raven had called them all into a meeting the day after Jean had supposedly contacted Charles. Hank was still less than pleased about that turn of events, though he supposed now he shouldn't have expected any different. Jean had a kind soul. He'd been able to tell that not long after meeting her. Of course she would want to help. He just hadn't expected it to happen so fast.

Or to be so fruitful.

Alex's theory had been right. Onslaught and Sentinel Syndrome were connected.

Onslaught was having an existential crisis of some sort.

Perhaps most shockingly, Onslaught wasn't the one driving their actions. Charles was.

That took a moment to wrap his head around. Everyone else too from the looks of it. Even Erik looked like he was mentally grappling with what it all meant.

"The job at Columbia," Alex finally said, clearing his throat when he strayed close to a croak, "that's, what, an alibi? A reason to travel?"

"We don't know that for sure," Hank said. "He may be working on something more."

"I don't think he is," Erik said with a wince. "At least not with the Columbia job."

Raven narrowed her eyes. "Why do you say that?"

And that was how they found out Erik had actually been in contact with Charles and hadn't told them. Never on his own terms. No, whenever Erik had sought out Charles, he'd end up back in Westchester. But whenever Charles deemed fit to summon him…

"You didn't tell us?!" Raven shouted.

"You didn't ask."

"You're kidding me," Alex said, deadpan.

"He's been summoning me. It hasn't ever been my choice," he looked away. "I'm not sure if he's making me forget things we talk about. He didn't seem keen on you all knowing we were meeting. I prefer to keep my knowledge of our conversations. And, if I'd told you, he may have stopped. It was to gain the upper-hand."

"Yeah?" Alex snarled "How'd that upper-hand go? Raven got more in one night then you've gotten in-"

"Enough," Hank said. "I'm not happy about this either, but we're on a schedule here. We have a few days until Charles goes after Trask, assuming Raven is right and Onslaught isn't lying. What are we going to do?"

Planning was always a toss-up. It could calm the room by giving them a shared task or raise tensions if they disagreed.

This had been a little bit of both.

They'd all wanted to go intercept Charles. The only problem was that he was too much of a wildcard now. And they only had one telepathy-proof helmet.

In the end, Raven won out. She would intercept Charles well before he could get close to Trask. He'd talked her out of taking out Trask. It was only fair she do the same for him.

Besides, Charles hadn't been wrong to aim for the school opening. They would be swamped. It was going to be disastrous to be down a person. But it would be even more disastrous if Charles succeeded then some conspiracy theorist put things together.

Throughout it all, Raven had remained calm and collected. Then she'd excused herself, saying she needed to finalize their bedding inventory.

It had almost been believable if he hadn't known she'd already done that the day before.

He found her in Charles' room, sitting under his window with her knees pulled to her chest. Her hands were balled up and pushed into her eyes. She wasn't crying, but only just, her shoulders were hitching and she was breathing harshly.

He sat down next to her.

"I think my brother might be dead," she said. "Charles would never do this. He wouldn't let himself hurt all these people, no matter how much they deserve it."

"You were going to kill them," Hank pointed out.

"Yeah, me. Not him. And now Charles is so I don't have to. Like he's making some big sacrifice for my 'innocence'?" she scoffed.

Hank paused, giving himself a moment to think. "I think the Charles we knew, even when you were a kid, was always holding himself back. I'm not sure we ever got anything other than the façade he wanted us to see. The man we knew wouldn't let himself hurt all these people. And look where that got him."

"What, you think he should have given in earlier? Just let himself hurt people?"

"No, that's not it at all. I don't think it's the actions that are key. It's the intentions. We all have thoughts and ideas we don't want to have. It's easy enough for most people not to act on them. Charles' whole world is centered around thoughts though. He may see the thought in itself as worthy of policing, rather than focusing on the action. For him, it's not enough to not take an action. He has to try to stop the thought. But no one, not even the best of individuals, can purge themselves completely of negative or unwanted thoughts. All they can do is learn to live with them."

"Charles never did. He just pushed them off onto Onslaught. A personality he could keep separate from himself."

"I may be wrong-"

"I don't think you are," she said, resigned. "It makes sense. He wants to help and see himself as good, but he can't, so he made another version of himself to take on what he couldn't handle."

Hank shrugged.

Raven turned to him. "What if he's been reaching out for help? Like he wants us to stop him?"

"Why do you say that?" Hank asked with a frown.

"Think about it. He's driving people insane from hundreds of miles away in some cases. Yet here we are, plotting against him, trying to get him back. He could have stopped us at any time. Erased our minds like he did with the serum. I think subconsciously he wants to help. Maybe not even just subconsciously. Assuming I'm not walking into a trap, Onslaught is helping us. That means that some part of Charles wants our help, wants us to stop him. He's just suppressing it."

Huh. It did make sense, even if it was taking a lot of stock in the assumption that Onslaught was telling them the truth. If it gave Raven the hope she needed to get through the task at hand, though, he was willing to support it.

He looked at her. "Are you going to be okay to do this?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I think it was clear that any of us are willing to-"

"That's not what I meant. I've been gone a long time, but he's my brother. I have to try."

She got to her feet and took a breath, not nearly as shaky as it had been a few minutes ago.

"Thanks, Hank." She paused and looked him in the eye. "I'm glad you're working through whatever you're working through. If you ever need someone to talk to…"

"I'll find you."

Surprisingly, it felt like both of them meant it.

Today was the day. Trask would learn the true consequences of what he'd attempted to do. Charles could feel the man's mind breaking, on the brink from the visions Charles had been hailing him with. The others Charles was fine with watching from afar. But after Jonathan, after feeling the man break, Charles knew he needed to see it on Trask personally. The man had a brilliant mind. It was a shame to see it used so heinously.

Charles would enjoy watching it shatter.

He didn't feel the abyss until it was right next to him. Just out of his periphery. No, not an abyss. The helmet. How had he missed its approach?

Ah, yes, that would be me, I'm afraid.

Onslaught? But why would Onslaught cover up something like this? They wanted the same thing.

Do we? I'm doing this for our own good, Charles. I'm sure you'll thank me later. Hear her out. Give her a chance.

Her…

That could only mean-

Raven stepped around the corner where Charles had been waiting for his car.

"Charles?"

"Raven," he said, brow furrowed. "I thought you'd be busy with the school opening."

"I know you did. That was the plan, right? Keep us busy so we wouldn't stop you?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

She gave him a knowing look. "When did you get so lost? A few months ago, you were trying to stop me from going after Trask. Now you're doing it yourself."

How in the hell did she know about Tra-

Oh.

Yes, apologies for that. I couldn't very well stand by and let it happen now, could I?

Onslaught was always more trouble than he was worth. A flash of indignation spiked at that thought. Charles muffled a smirk.

"A lot has changed since then. I'm not going to kill him, if that's what you think. I just want to talk to him. See if he still thinks his precious Sentinel project is worth it."

"You've stayed away from everyone else so far. You can't be linked to the rest of the employees without a lot of prior knowledge about who you are and what you can do. If you see Trask, that ends. There's a connection anyone can follow. And once they know what to look for…"

"No one will make the connection."

"I didn't think anyone would catch me if I assassinated Trask. Apparently, that assumption cost us a war in the future. Maybe no one would make the connection. But if someone did, the result would be disastrous." She looked at him straight in the eye. "Do not make us the enemy today."

Ah, yes, the irony of the situation. Here they were, roles perfectly reversed from where they were at the White House.

"And what would you have me do?"

"Exactly what you told me then. Show them the better path. I know you're not out on some vengeance streak. That's not you, regardless of Onslaught. This is something else. You said, back then, that you had faith in me. You left the decision in my hands. Don't take that decision away from me now. Everything I did, everything you worked for before that, don't waste it."

He paused, then more quietly, "What would you have me do?"

"Come home."

Charles scoffed. "To what? A group of people who no doubt hate me and a load of expectations I cannot possibly meet?"

"What? No, that's not-"

"You were right to say I was trying to control you. That was my mistake. But you made as many assumptions about me as I made of you. You – all of you – put me on a pedestal. I hid myself because the expectations of others were too great.

"You're still doing it now," Raven bristled. "Trying to control me. I'm running a school. Do you think that was in my grand plan? And we put you on a pedestal? Please. Not any more than you put yourself on one. You can't possibly be blaming this on us."

"No," Charles huffed. "I'm blaming it on me for caring what anybody else thinks. I am who I am. An imperfect telepath who does his best to use his mutation for the betterment of others. I will strive to be the person the people around me think I can be. But if it becomes too much, I will not punish myself."

"No one is asking you to punish yourself. That's what I'm trying to say. You're the one who insists on being a martyr. We want you to come back so that we can be better. All of us. Together."

"And what about what I want? How does that come into play?"

"Is that not what you want?"

"I don't know if you can give me what I want anymore."

"What does that mean?"

Charles stayed stubbornly silent.

If you don't tell her, you'll never know what she'll say about it, Onslaught said.

"What do you want?" Raven asked.

"I want a family!" he blurted.

"You have a family!" Raven insisted.

"Do I? Everybody left. Everybody except for Hank. You all didn't return until the most severe of circumstances. Besides, with you all there, I have to be here."

"Why?" she asked, frustration coloring her tone.

She never was the most patient, was she? Onslaught asked, fond.

"All of this is for you. For all of you. Don't you see?"

"If you're doing this for us, then why won't you come back? We're there. Why are you here?" Raven begged.

"I have to protect you all."

"You aren't protecting us by linking yourself to Trask. You aren't protecting us by sacrificing yourself. That's what you're doing, right? You're doing it so we don't have to."

"I have to protect you," he repeated, softer this time.

"I get that," she replied, matching his volume. "But you can do that from home."

"Not after the things I've done. I don't deserve-"

"Why not?"

"You know the things I've done. The person I've become."

"And I'm still here, asking you to come home. I know you're in pain-"

Anger swelled in his chest. "You know nothing," he barked. "I died on that beach. Everything I knew, everything I believed in started slipping away. Do you know what it's like to hear your sister's mind as she rejects you? Not a perceived slight, not assuming from actions that your sibling doesn't accept you, but actually hearing the moment when your sister decides you aren't worth it anymore? Your brother is dead, Raven. He has been for a long time."

"No, he isn't," Raven responded, calm in the face of Charles' fury. "I saw him. In Paris before Magneto tried to shoot me. In that airport when Onslaught was trying to kill me. You may think he's dead, but he's not. You are resilient, Charles. Both of us have made mistakes. You tried to control me. I ran instead of trying to work things out with you. It was time I needed so that I could become my own person, but I didn't need to cut you off completely. I'm sorry for that. Let's start to fix it. Today. We've both survived our mistakes. We can make this better. Just- just come home."

Charles hesitated.

This is everything you want, but won't let yourself want, Onslaught said.

How would you know? Charles snapped back.

Because it's what I want.

Oh. That was. Hm.

Tell me what you want. Who you are right now, Charles said.

I want us to stop this. I'm scared that you're far enough gone to want to do the very thing we were working against all those months ago. I'm worried you'll get caught and everything we've tried to build will come down around us. I want to be who I was before, but different, stronger, united. I want to be home with my family.

All those wants were Charles' that he had put off. Had he really drifted that far from who he had been?

You let your pain consume you, Onslaught said, and became something worse than me.

Let's not go too far.

What would you say then? How does it feel being the half that people fear, powerful but alone? Everything we've done, we've done for them, but what about us? Do we fade into the night when our job is done? Or is our job never done? We work, separate, on our own, until we can't anymore. Is that the future you have planned for us?

No. That wasn't what he wanted. And yet…

I don't want to feel what I did before.

I can't promise you won't feel the despair that defined us once everyone left. But now we have people to help us. We have a school, a family-

How could they not after what I've done to them? Manipulations, stealing away memories and abilities. How could they possibly want me around them?

Not easily. You were willing to fight the very idea of Sentinels for them though. Fight for them now. For acceptance, if not forgiveness. It won't be an easy road. But nothing worth fighting for is.

Was he always this annoyingly cliché? Onslaught ticked a smile at that.

How do we do it? Charles asked. Locking you away isn't going to work again.

No, it won't. We'll have to achieve balance. Accept our flaws. If neither of us tip to an extreme, then we can live in harmony. With our family. Assuming they accept us as we are.

"Charles?" Raven asked.

Charles jerked back to the present. Raven stood in front of him, almost pleading. Waiting.

"I cannot be who I was before," he said. "Not the blind optimist nor the depressed pessimist."

"I wouldn't want you to be," Raven responded. "Hank said something about how you think. That you treat thought and action the same. They're not, you know? You can think bad things and not punish yourself for them, as long as you don't act on them. It might take some practice on all of our parts. But I'm sure we can do it. If you come home."

Charles took a deep breath in. Let it out. "Alright then. Let's go home."

In the depth of his mind, Onslaught smiled.

There had been a lot of talking when they'd returned. At first, it was to ensure he was who he said he was. That took a while. Not surprisingly, they'd looked to Hank for the most help in that task. He'd spent the most time with Charles before everything had happened and had pinned Onslaught as being Not Charles after a comparatively short interaction.

Charles, with Raven by his side, had explained that he couldn't be the person he was before. He had to accept his negative impulses as part of himself. Onslaught would always be a part of him – a manifestation of his telepathy that could only happen to someone who possessed psionic energy so far in excess that they would qualify as one of the more powerful entities in the world. In others words, they shouldn't expect every telepath to have an evil twin bouncing around their head. Charles as he was now was morally aligned in a way that worked for both him and Onslaught; Charles could live with himself and Onslaught didn't have to be tucked away, building power and screaming for release.

He could feel it, the power coursing through him, butterflies in the stomach that meant he and Onslaught were aligned. Now it was a matter of keeping them that way without one of them straying too far to the extremes.

Charles postulated that, now that he was older than the impulsive teenager he was when Onslaught had last had free reign, he could temper Onslaught more easily. Really, the only major problem to watch out for was when things got repressed. So all he had to do was not repress. Easy enough, right? Then they won't get a power-hungry Onslaught. But that meant everyone needed to know that Charles would closer to the middle, not the paragon of virtue he'd positioned himself as throughout the years.

"I don't expect forgiveness," Charles had said.

He hadn't gotten any. And that was okay. Alex had been the closest to it. Hank clenched his jaw but gave a stiff nod when Charles asked him if he was willing to sit down with him and talk. After he underwent numerous scans, of course, comparing his earlier readings to the ones Hank had of when Onslaught was in charge and then comparing both of those to his current readings.

Erik had been the most stubborn while somehow also being the most open. Charles had given him back the piece of him that he'd taken. That, surprisingly (though perhaps it shouldn't have been), settled Onslaught even further.

Charles wasn't fully back to himself. He likely never would be with the balance he now had to actively maintain within his mind. So, perhaps, he had never been who he truly was and now he finally could be.

For better or worse, his true self was an integrated form with Onslaught.

Erik hadn't been particularly pleased about that, especially when it came out that cooperation between Charles and Onslaught meant Charles' telepathy was even stronger.

Always fearful of that which he cannot control, Onslaught had tsked in his head. Charles smirked in return.

Erik hadn't liked that either.

Then again, it didn't matter what Erik liked or didn't. It was either this or they went back to how things were. The situation would inevitably build to a head again and Onslaught would break free. Or try to. Either was less than idea.

With what Onslaught had taken from him returned, Erik was back to his old self. It was hard to describe the difference. The closest Charles came was that he had a fire in his eyes again. His powers were fully functional. He left a day later, the only sign he'd been there in the first place a letter on Charles' desk. Charles read it alone in his office, then stored it away in a locked container only he knew the combination for with a fond smile.

It wasn't perfect. They were all different than they were before. Alex and Raven held responsibilities in a way that didn't favor Alex's previous hot-headedness or Raven's former transience. Hank wasn't as trusting, still broken, but he was piecing himself back together and seemed stronger for it. Charles was still trying to find balance. Self-acceptance was easier said than done. It took a lot of reflection, near constant watch from those he trusted to identify when he was slipping too close to the negativity of Onslaught or the performed positivity of Charles. Not to mention he still had to grapple with the things he'd done over the past months.

No, it wasn't perfect. But it was better.

And that was something.

End notes:

"One day, this will haunt you" is from a video game called "Stories Untold," I think, though it's fairly generic, so I may be wrong.

Like I said at the beginning of the chapter, this is really about symbolically closing out a chapter in my life (in a positive way). If it wasn't what you were hoping for, I hope you let your creative juices flow and imagine something better.

Thanks for reading, and love to all of you.