I apologize for how confusing the last chapter was—it honestly made more sense in my head than I guess came across. Basically, for those of you that are confused: Erik has been taken by the CIA in the past and in the present, he's pissed off at Raven and the other mutants for leaving him and Charles for so long at the mercy of the CIA. Hopefully, this one will clear things up for those of you who are still confused.
I'll have a considerably longer chapter up on Thursday as a Thanksgiving gift and then another chapter on Friday. It's all already written—I'm just fine tuning things and going back to make sure everything make sense.
Again, sorry for how confusing the last chapter got. I'm human and sometimes forget the rest of the world doesn't see the entire arc of a story at one time like I do.
And, I'm in the process of responding to all of your reviews. Thank you for reading and telling me what you thought! I appreciate it!
The Perks of Being a Telepath
Chapter 12: Despair
The newspaper crumpled in Charles' hand as he glared out at the sunny landscape beyond the mansion. For nearly a month, he had searched for Erik and Raven, but he had been unable to reach Erik's mind and hadn't found any news whatsoever since Hank had initially found out the others had been taken by the CIA.
Not until this morning, when the government brazenly broadcasted their intent to the entire world. Or, at least, to the entire state of New York.
MUTANTROUNDUP.
The article went on to describe what mutants were—with words from Charles' thesis—and the danger they posed to society. There was a sketch of a person who looked more like an alligator than a human, with thick scales and fanged teeth. It was supposed to be a mutant.
Well, if that's what they're looking for, then they aren't going to find very many of us.
Charles sighed at the voice that sounded suspiciously like Erik and resisted the urge to light the newspaper on fire.
"Professor?"
Charles turned to find both Hank and Sean in matching black jumpsuits. Hank held a third one in his hands.
"I—I've been working on these for a while. Just finished them. Figured it might be time for a test-run."
Erik stood in the middle of the parking lot, resisting the urge to crumple the cars into nothing. That would bring the government running faster than anything.
He clenched his fists, wincing when there was a loud, groaning sound and one of the car doors dented.
"Is that really necessary?"
Raven was perched on the now damaged car, her arms folded across her chest. Her yellow eyes were sad.
"Yes."
They were quiet for a moment while Erik let go of his anger.
"Where's Sean?"
"He—he's out shopping. We're going to need supplies if we want to stay here much longer."
Erik was silent. Raven sighed.
"I'm sorry, Erik."
He turned away from her. She pressed on.
"We didn't—we didn't know—I'm sorry."
"He's your brother and you left him to that fate."
"We were busy trying to avoid being caught ourselves!"
"So that's the excuse you want to give Charles—that you were too busy to save him?"
A rearview mirror on one of the cars warped into a mass of metal and broken glass.
"He told us that our main concern was to be for ourselves."
"It's Charles. Of course he says that. The man has no self-preservation."
Raven glared.
"You think I don't know that?"
"Then where the hell have you been, damn it?"
"Look, the second you went back in for Charles, we were being hunted. Sean was almost caught and Hank was shotwith a tranquilizer. We had to go into hiding and by that time, you had been moved and we had no way of finding our where you were."
"You could have infiltrated the CIA. You've done it a hundred times before, Raven!"
"It was too dangerous! Our last mission put a code red on the mutant situation and the government has orders to kill anyone they suspect of being involved in mutant activity! I'm sorry, Erik, but we couldn't risk that. Not when there aren't that many of us left. Charles wouldn't have wanted that."
"Wouldn't want that."
"What?"
"He wouldn't want that. Don't talk about him in the past tense. He's not dead and he's not going to die."
Not for me. I'm not worth that.
"What did you find out?"
A kick to his side, followed by a barely concealed grunt of pain. Broken ribs.
"What did you steal?"
A punch this time, to his already bruised face. A tooth rattled in his mouth.
"Who are you working for?"
A glass of water was set in front of him. He swallowed, wincing at the dryness of his throat.
"This can all end, Magneto, if you just tell us what we want to know."
He stretched out his arm. The sleeve on his jumpsuit slid closer to his elbow. A small string of numbers became visible.
A foot came down on his arm.
Pain laced through it as the bone shattered. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, unable to contain the whimper of pain that escaped.
Don't give in to it.
"Bring in the shape shifter! We'll see if we can't use her to get him to talk."
I'm sorry, Charles.
What felt like a lifetime, but was in reality only a week later, Charles finally woke up. Pain still radiated through his chest with every movement, but it was no longer powerful enough to send him into darkness.
Hank was sitting in his usual position on the floor, with his head slumped into his hands. Charles attempted to prop himself up on the pillows, but a new wave of pain froze him.
"Bloody hell."
The breathless swear caught Hank's attention. His head shot up and his yellow eyes widened as he saw Charles wide awake and staring back at him.
"Charles!"
An onslaught of crashed over Charles' mind. It shouldn't have made him sigh in relief—they were terrible feelings, all around—but he was ridiculously happy that he had his powers back.
Not having them made him feel blind and deaf and helpless, a feeling he hated.
"I'm all right, Hank."
Charles answered the unspoken question in Hank's mind, hardly realizing that Hank hadn't spoken until the furry man's eyes widened in relief.
"I thought you might—I—they gave you an insane amount of those inhibitors. I didn't know what the side effects would be."
Charles was content to listen to Hank babble, if only it meant that he was alive. After what felt like decades of being caught in that semi-state between consciousness and unconsciousness, it was a miracle that Charles could actually focus on anything at all.
"Professor?"
Charles blinked, realizing that Hank had told him something important. With a brief glance into Hank's mind, Charles mentally sighed.
The CIA wanted Charles to use Cerebro as soon as he was conscious.
They had been monitoring his vitals so they would know exactly when that was.
They were on their way.