Days crept by as Erik regained his strength and his health; as a matter of fact, Xavier was surprised at the speedy recovery. Soon, the Phantom was back on his feet, disappearing and appearing at random, as was his habit. He and Kurt developed a strong bond, the young blue mutant quickly bringing out the newcomer's better aspects. To the other students, Erik seemed cold and distant, not someone they wanted to be anywhere near. Kurt was the only one he let in, the only one he allowed to get close; thus the Fuzzy Dude was the only friend he had made in more than a century.

"Hey, Kurt!" Kitty called to him as he walked down the hall.

"'Sup, Kitty?" he greeted her with a smile.

"Where you going?" she asked.

"I have to see how Erik's doing," he answered.

Professor Xavier had chosen Kurt to watch over Erik while he recuperated, seeing as the two got along well and Kurt was the only one Erik was friendly with. He had also agreed to let Erik bunk with him until they had a room ready for the former Opera Ghost.

"What is up with you and that freak?" Rogue wondered, coming up behind Kurt.

"Hey, lay off!" he snapped, "Using that logic we're all freaks."

"She's got a point, Kurt," Kitty interjected, "The guy wears a mask and tux all the time, he's not really sociable, and he like totally gives me the creeps."

"How come you seem to be the only one that can stand him?" Rogue queried.

"C'mon, man," Kurt said, "He's not that bad."

"You're, like, the only one he'll talk to!" Kitty exclaimed.

The blue youngster shrugged and walked away, heading to his room where Erik habitually shut himself away during the day. They did have a point; Kurt was the only one Erik talked to, everyone else took one look into his cold eyes and avoided him. So Erik remained hidden from human eyes and contact, coming out at night after everyone had retired. He had always been a creature of the night, darkness was his friend; it protected him from prying eyes. A knock came at the door, snapping him out of his reverie, as he looked toward it in a slight state of alarm.

"Est-ce qui?" he called.

"It's me, Kurt," came the answer.

"Entrez-vous," Erik responded with a sigh of relief.

"Hey, man," he greeted his masked companion, "How's it hanging?"

"You know," Erik said, turning to him, "I find this lingo of yours rather… confusing."

"So whatcha up to?" Kurt asked, scratching his head, when he spied the open notebook on the desk, "What're you doing, rather?"

"Writing a bit of a dictionary," he answered, writing down Kurt's earlier question.

"A dictionary of what?" his cerulean friend inquired.

"21st century lingo," Erik replied, "What does 'how's it hanging' mean?"

"Oh, y'know, how are you."

"Ah." He wrote it down.

"Listen, Erik."

"Hm?"

"Well, uh, I was talking to Kitty and Rogue…"

Erik turned in his chair to face Kurt, "Who are they?"

"Kitty's the one with brown hair and uses 'like' and 'totally' a lot. Rogue's the one with dark reddish brown hair with white bangs who dresses Gothic all the time."

"Oh, those two young ladies. Kitty's rather lovely, Rogue is, well, for lack of a better word, unique."

"Yeah, well… look, anyway, they brought up a good point."

"Which would be?" a black eyebrow quirked beneath his waving black bangs.

"You don't talk to anyone beside me. You always seem cold and distant around everyone else."

"What's your point?" Erik was getting testy.

"Look, Erik, you're going to have to interact with these people. We're your team! You have to learn to trust all of us and the only way is for you to talk to them, let them get to know you."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, all right!"

He stormed out of the room, onto the balcony, yet when Kurt followed, his friend had disappeared. Erik climbed to the highest point on the roof and looked out over the land beyond, as the horrors of his past took hold of his mind. He sat down, hugging his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his arms as his strong form shook with the force of his near-hysterical sobs.

Erik sat, his broad frame weak under the weight of his sorrow, until the sun set, painting the sky in an array of colors. Still he sat, his sobs hardly subsiding, when the stars began to dot the darkening sky. He was finally growing tired and weary from his outburst, when he heard a voice in his mind.

"Who's there?" he demanded startled, looking around him.

"Erik, calm down," the voice answered, "You must be aware by now of my own abilities."

"Professeur?" he asked, mentally.

"Yes," Xavier replied, "Erik, please, come speak to me. Let me know your mind."

"I can't do that," he whispered.

"Erik, I know you do not trust mankind, but please, let me help you. You can trust me."

"I… I realize that… and I do."

"Then let me help you, let me know your mind. You are suffering, Erik, you're soul and mind are filled with sorrow and pain. There is too much there, I can help you if you will only let me. Allow me to take these things off your mind, permit me to relieve them, to lighten the weight you carry. Come speak with me."

"Very well, perhaps you are right, perhaps it will help."

He rose and made his way inside, the students throwing him a wary glance as he walked down the hall. He rapped gently on the door of Xavier's office, the voice within calling for him to enter.

"Ah, Erik," the professor said, "I'm a bit surprised you actually came as soon as you did."

"Spare me," he remarked.

"Very well," Xavier sighed.

Erik sat on the couch as the Institute's founder rolled from his desk to sit facing the man who called himself the Phantom.

"Help me," Erik implored, the full weight of his sorrow clear in his eyes.

"I have every intention of doing so," Xavier assured him, "Close your eyes and relax, Erik. Clear your mind, let me see into its depths."

He did as requested, allowing the Professor to see into the darkest reaches of his mind, down to the terrors of his life.