This one is super short and for that, I'm kinda sorry. But not really. There really was no other way to cut this.
Also, for the record, Charles is not dead. Don't worry. :) Though it made me smile how outraged you all got.
I'm going to be updating on Fridays only after this update.
The Perks of Being a Telepath
Chapter 19: Evasion
Charles stumbled down the stairs, relying entirely too much on the wall for balance. He made it into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, when the sight in front of him stopped him cold.
Erik was standing at the stove, flipping the eggs and whistling of all things. Buttered and burnt toast sat on a plate in the middle of the table.
"It's five-thirty in the morning."
They were the first words Charles could think of that weren't who the hell are you and what have you done with the real Erik?
Had he not known that it was physically impossible for Raven to wake up before ten o'clock and she was currently on crutches and entirely unable to shift form at the moment, Charles would have assumed she was playing a joke.
"I am well aware of the time, Charles."
"Why—what are you doing?"
"Making breakfast."
Erik's calm, sarcastic voice did nothing to answer the question as to why he was making breakfast.
Charles decided that if the man wanted to make breakfast at five-thirty in the morning, then Erik was more than entitled without confused telepaths demanding to know why.
Charles slumped into one of the chairs and snagged a piece of toast that wasn't completely burnt.
"You're up early."
He didn't have to demand answers, but he could find more tactful ways of figuring out what was bothering his friend.
"I never went to sleep."
"That's healthy."
Erik glanced away from the stove for a moment to raise a pointed eyebrow at Charles.
"And what you've done is the picture of healthy actions."
Charles sighed. He honestly should have seen this coming the second he had made the decision to help Erik out by taking away his pain and then passing out for three days.
"What's done is done, my friend. I'm sorry if I offended you. Believe me, it wasn't as though I didn't think you could handle the pain."
"That's not what I'm talking about, Charles."
Charles rubbed his head.
"Forgive me, but I am trying not to use my powers until Hank gives me the all clear. So would you mind telling me what exactly you are talking about?"
Erik let out an exasperated growl and turned back to the stove. He stabbed at the eggs with more force than was strictly necessary.
Charles couldn't even begin to understand what put Erik in such a mood so early in the morning.
"For a telepath, you are so utterly horrible at reading people, my friend."
Charles resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you or am I going to have to read your mind after all?"
"Stay out of my head."
Charles raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"What's going on, Erik?"
The man had been fine the night before, if not a little overly surprised about Charles' change in attitude.
"Nothing."
The eggs turning into squashed mush spoke differently.
Setting down his piece of toast, Charles stood up, forcing down the urge to wince as pain flared in his lower back once more. He walked over to Erik and gently pulled the spatula away from him.
"What's going on?"
Erik sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.
"Hank told me everything."
Charles closed his eyes and leaned against the counter. It was way too early in the morning to deal with this.
"Of course he did."
"You should have told me."
"You never asked."
"Yes I did. You evaded the questions."
"What do you want to know?"
"Why you hid those things from me."
"Why?"
"You're the one always pushing friendship and love."
"You're the one always running as fast as you can in the other direction."
"I came back, didn't I?"
"Why did you, anyway?"
"You know why, Charles. Now, stop avoiding the question."
Charles turned away.
"I need something stronger than orange juice if we're going to have this conversation."
"It's five-thirty in the morning."
"So?"
A siren was blaring in the distance, though it barely registered in Hank's ears as he picked his way amongst the broken glass and rubble, following Raven and Erik out of the remains of the CIA base.
Erik was carrying Charles, who was hanging on to life by a thread. They had found a pulse—so weak it could barely be felt—but it had given them hope that maybe Charles would live after all.
Though, Hank knew that surviving the physical wounds would only be half the battle. He wasn't sure what Stryker had done to the machine during Hank's absence, but something had gone drastically wrong when Charles had used it earlier.
And then there was Stryker's comment about it being the end of the mutant race.
"Bravo to Stryker. Reinforcements are on their way. Repeat, Bravo to Stryker. Reinforcements are on their way."
They had made it into the long, dark hallway which led to freedom. The words came from a radio that was thrown haphazardly into the corner as one of the guards had tried to run.
Hank looked at Erik, who glared at the radio as though it had caused him physical pain.
"Mystique."
Raven looked at Erik. It was hard to tell if the surprise on her face was from Erik's coarse voice or if it was from the words on the radio.
Seconds later, she had shifted into Stryker. Hank could barely contain the quiver of rage that tore through him at the sight of the man who had almost succeeded in killing Charles.
From the look on Erik's face, he wasn't too happy with Raven's form either.
Raven picked up the radio.
"Stryker to Bravo."
Hank curled his hands into fists and looked for something he could focus on other than Raven.
Movement caught his eye seconds before Moira McTaggert appeared. She was holding a gun in shaking hands, aimed at Charles.