Yeah, I lied. You don't really find out too much more about Charles in the present in this chapter… but it is coming! I swear!

Thanks to those of you who have constantly read and reviewed! You are the reason why I'm still posting the story! :) As to all of those who have alerted this story or put it on your favorites, feel free to review as well! I won't bite... hard. :)

The Perks of Being a Telepath

Chapter 9: Run

Erik felt stone cold horror seep over him in waves as he felt something in his mind vanish. It was Charles' telepathic connection. It had been severed in a shock of guilt, anguish and pain.

Charles was gone.

"CHARLES!"

There was no reply outside of twenty-five terrified pairs of eyes staring up at him. Erik realized the he must look like the bad guy, dressed in a guard's uniform and with no obvious powers.

"It's all right."

His voice was harsh with shock and horror, doing absolutely nothing to reassure them. The youngest—a girl, no older then ten with stark white hair and beautiful black eyes—shrank away from him.

Erik inwardly flinched, trying to remember what Charles would do in this situation.

He took a deep breath.

"You're going to be all right. I'm going to get you all out of here and someplace safe."

Though where, he didn't know. The mutants were rapidly running out of safe places to hide. Their most recent hiding place had been raided and Hank had been captured. The mansion was out—it was still under renovations after having caught on fire during a CIA attack.

There was an ominous sound of booted footsteps and the clicking of gun safeties being turned off, followed by yelling and harsh voices.

Shit.

The government wasn't going to let them go without a fight.

There was a terrified whimper coming from one of the mutants as shadows fell around the corner of the building.

They needed to move.

Sparing one last, useless glance toward the compound in a vain hope that Charles would magically appear, Erik steeled himself for what he was about to do next.

He was going to leave Charles behind.

"When I say run, head to the trees as fast as you can. Don't look back, but don't lose each other either. We are all getting out of here."

Twenty-five heads nodded mutely with shock.

The shadows grew closer.

Erik took a deep breath.

"Run!"

When Charles pulled himself out of the shower an hour and a half later, he was stunned, to say the least, to find a steaming mug of tea and a chessboard waiting for him in the kitchen.

Erik was standing at the stove, nursing what looked like a cup of coffee. Charles wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"How can you stand to drink that vile liquid?"

"It's better than brown water."

"At least I won't clog my insides drinking that tar."

"Always so proper, Charles."

"And you are always so rude. Would it kill you to sit down?"

"Yes. It would cause me physical pain to the point of death."

"It is way too early in the morning for sarcasm."

"It's almost three o'clock in the afternoon, Charles."

Charles slumped into a chair with a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the tea.

"You didn't make this, did you?"

Erik rolled his eyes and sat down across from Charles.

"Of course not. I had Hank make it."

"Er, good. I guess that makes it marginally safe. I won't have to worry about you poisoning me or anything."

"I am not here because I want to kill you, Charles. I could have easily done that last night when you could hardly see straight. It would have been absurdly easy."

"Thanks for that."

"I'm merely pointing out the fact you were inebriated last night."

Charles glanced at Erik over the top of his cup.

"If you don't mind my saying so, but you look bloody awful."

"Pot calling the kettle black."

"I know, Erik. But what happened to you, my friend?"

"We tried to infiltrate the CIA yesterday."

"I heard."

Erik looked shocked, which amused Charles to no end.

"What? Did you honestly believe I haven't been keeping tabs on you?"

"I didn't think you cared."

"Don't be ridiculous, Erik, of course I care."

"You've changed since the last time I saw you."

"So have you."

"No, you've become more like yourself. And I'm not going to even ask how you're walking again."

"Hank found a mutant with regenerative powers. He mutated it to help only the spinal cells."

"I didn't realize—I didn't know that sort of thing was possible."

"Neither did I. And I don't think Hank really did either."

"That's amazing."

Charles smiled.

"You see, my friend, no matter how great the wrong, it can always be made right."

"I thought you didn't want that."

"Like you said—I've changed."

They sat in a companionable silence, before another thought struck Erik. Charles heard it long before Erik could figure out how to put it, but he decided to wait and let his friend ask him before he answered.

"Does—is the—is this permanent?"

Charles took a sip of his tea and closed his eyes.

"I don't know. Hank thinks it might be, but I'm less optimistic."

"Why?"

Charles took another sip of tea to give himself time to gather his thoughts. Truth was, it was the incident on the beach that had caused him to be less optimistic of life in general, but he couldn't tell Erik that without it making it sound like he was to blame. And no matter how angry Charles had been with Erik, he wasn't anymore. And he certainly didn't blame Erik for what had happened.

"I have learned that it's better to air on the side of caution. You taught me that."

It was the politest, most blunt way to put his thoughts into words, but it obviously still struck a chord with Erik.

The taller man stood and set his coffee cup down, making a visible effort not to slam it into the table top. While Charles appreciated the sentiment, he did not appreciate the anger behind it.

"I am not mad at you, Erik. Please, sit down."

Erik folded his arms against his chest.

"If you are not angry with me-."

He trailed off, though Charles didn't need to be a telepath to figure out what he was going to say next.

"It's almost impossible to get in touch with someone who insists on operating in secrecy. I can get inside your head long enough to know what you're doing, but it's like a one-way radio. I can hear what you're doing, saying, and thinking, but you can't hear me."

"You located and talked to Alex easily enough—he was hundreds of thousands of miles away."

"I had something of his. And it took me hours to be able to do it—and look how well that turned out."

Screaming, pain, ohgodthatfuckinghurts, someone please help me!

Erik flinched.

"I'm sorry, Charles."

The apology wasn't just for losing Alex.

"I know. And I am too."

His apology wasn't just for ignoring Erik for so long.

Charles could only remember one time in his life that he had been in this much pain upon awakening, and that was after the Cuban Missile Crisis.

"He's waking up!"

"Get everyone who doesn't need to be in here out, now. I don't want to give him the chance to control anyone."

Charles almost laughed, but seeing as breathing hurt, he figured anything else was entirely out of the question.

Hadn't the government figured out by now that shooting him caused a momentary short in his abilities?

Of course not, or otherwise he would have been shot on a regular basis instead of given those stupid telepathic inhibitors that made him sick.

"Prisoner X-."

"M'n'me's Charles."

"What did he say?"

Charles wished he could get his eyes open to see the look of shock on everyone's faces, but he couldn't seem to get his eyes to cooperate.

"My. Name. Is. Charles."