I'm sorry for the delay in this chapter... I really have no excuse, outside of the fact that I just forgot to update. So, here's chapter 26 and chapter 27 will be up tomorrow! Promise!

Also, chapter 28 will be the last of my pre-written chapters, so from there on out, we'll just be relying on my sporadic writing habits to see us through. But don't worry-the ending of this story has already been planned and is in the process of being written. I just have to go through and flesh the rest of it out.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! : )

Perks of Being a Telepath

Chapter 26: Tension

The heart monitors in the hospital beeped quietly, the only sign that both Erik and Charles were still alive.

Raven sighed as she clutched a giant cup of coffee in one hand and glanced at the clock above her. It read two o'clock in the morning. Another hour had already passed. It was time to call Hank again.

She really didn't remember much about what happened between the military trucks and the hospital. She had been running high on both adrenaline and fear, hoping and praying that Charles would be all right and they would all get through this. She vaguely remembered quickly, yet cautiously moving Charles, Sean, and an unconscious Erik to another military truck and taking off down the road, but outside of a blur of trees and shouted directions, Raven didn't recall the drive to the hospital at all. Nor did she know where they were, just that they were far away from Langely.

Raven was now sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair between Charles and Erik. Sean was asleep on Charles' other side, his face tight with pain. He had had a nasty concussion from the brick wall falling on his head.

Charles was deep in a coma with no news as to whether he would live or not. It physically hurt Raven to look at him. He was covered almost head to toe in bandages, tangible reminders of how greatly she had failed him over the past two months. She had left him behind. She hadn't wanted to, but the fact remained that she had and now, he was hovering on the edge of death, all because she couldn't risk looking for him. Stryker had had his way with Charles because Raven hadn't been strong enough.

Erik was also in a coma, though no one was able to explain why. Physically, save for his still healing injuries, he was fine. There was nothing wrong with him, except that he was in a coma. Hank didn't know why either, though he was betting—and Raven agreed with him—that Charles' powers had something to do with it.

Raven was really beginning to hate telepathy.

Sighing heavily, Raven took another sip of her coffee, wincing as the vile black liquid slid down her throat. She suddenly found herself desperately wishing for a cup of chamomile tea. Though she detested it almost as much as she hated coffee, Raven wanted the safety and assurances the tea brought. Charles had always been the one to make it, whenever Raven was sick, or hurt, or scared. More than anything, Raven just wanted her brother, awake and fine. She wanted to put this whole nightmare behind her and just curl up with Charles in the library and listen to him prattle on about some boring nonsense that made him happy or watch him play a game of chess with Erik. She wanted Charles.

Raven wasn't an idiot. She knew that being in a coma meant that even if Charles did wake up, there was no guarantee he would be 100% Charles. That he might have brain damage or simply might not even be there anymore. This wasn't the first time Charles had slipped into a coma, but that didn't make it any less painful.

Raven looked away from Charles' bruised and bandaged face, closing her eyes tightly. She wanted someone there with her, even if it wasn't her brother, to tell her that it was going to be okay, that Charles was going to be fine. Unfortunately, there wasn't anyone left. With Erik in the hospital right alongside Charles and Hank being unable to go out into public without drawing unneeded attention to them, Raven was forced to be the strong one here, to be there for Charles, even when she thought she couldn't handle it.

Sighing again, Raven opened her eyes and instead studied Erik for a minute. If it weren't for the various monitors and machines he was hooked up to, she could have mistaken him for being asleep. His eyes were constantly moving behind his eyelids, clear signs that he was dreaming. She didn't get excited over it though—he had been doing that since he had slipped into a coma.

"What are you dreaming about in there?"

Her silent question received no answer.

Raven took a deep breath and slowly released it. She glanced at the clock again. 2:05 in the morning. It was definitely time to call Hank.

Charles folded his bad arm across his chest and glared at Erik. The limb was starting to protest his earlier stupidity of climbing the satellite dish, though he was able to ignore it for the time being.

Erik glared right back, his expression infinitely more stubborn and angry than Charles' could ever be. He had had more practice with the intimidation thing than Charles had.

"You're both being idiots."

Hank's voice floated to them from the front of the plane, but neither Erik nor Charles decided to give it a response.

Charles sighed.

"Erik."

"Charles."

The telepath had to fight against the urge to literally growl at the metal wielder. Why did the man have to be so infuriatingly stubborn?

Erik gave him a look that clearly said Charles had been projecting and that all of it was bullshit.

Charles agreed. This entire situation was ridiculous.

"I'm not going to Texas to prove to you that I'm mentally stable. I am over everything."

He was careful not to mention Kurt or Cuba or any other of the billion and one things that might make Hank remotely curious about the deeper meanings of this sudden trip to Texas.

"Then why are you going?"

Erik was not an idiot, though Charles was seriously beginning to question the other man's intelligence.

"I told you."

Erik rolled his eyes.

"I have a hard time believing the only reason you want to go to Texas is because I was thinking they might cause some alarm later on down the road."

"It's a perfectly valid reason."

"Yes, to deal with later. It's not something that you needed to take the first available flight down to Texas for."

"Right. Because you definitely weren't planning on flying down here yourself."

"Later."

It was Charles' turn to roll his eyes.

"I don't believe you."

"You never do."

Charles froze, realizing for the first time that Erik hadn't come on this trip simply because he wanted to irritate Charles or because he wanted to talk to the renegade mutants himself. He was the one with a mission to prove something and that thought alone made Charles sad.

"I do believe you most of the time, Erik."

His words were purposefully soft so that they wouldn't carry to the front of the plane.

Erik shook his head.

"Not when it matters."

Their conversation in the library earlier that morning drifted through Charles' head. He winced, realizing all too late the impact his accusations would have had on Erik's already fragile sense of trust.

"I'm sorry, my friend. I didn't mean that I didn't trust you."

Erik sighed heavily.

"Yes, you did."

Charles floundered for a minute, trying to think of something to say. Erik beat him to it.

"It's fine, Charles. I understand. You can't trust me, not after everything I've done."

The beach jumped to the forefront of both of their minds. Charles grimaced.

"I have told you I forgive you."

"And I believe you. But I don't think you've forgiven yourself for trusting me in the first place. Nor have you begun to forgive yourself for what happened to your step-father."

Charles closed his eyes, not to avoid seeing Erik's guaranteed pity, but to avoid letting his memories overcome him. Avoiding Erik's pity was just an added bonus.

Erik pressed on, purposefully keeping his voice as low as Charles' had been so Hank would hear what was going on.

"I'm not asking you trust me, Charles. That would be unfair to you and to what happened to you. But this… whatever this is, you don't have to do it. You don't have to prove to me that you're brave or strong or whatever you think you're doing."

"Believe it or not, Erik, the world does not revolve around you. Nor does it revolve around me. What I'm doing is in the best interest of that world, so that it keeps revolving around the sun and so that the mutants don't blow it up in their attempts for freedom."

Erik growled. Charles opened his eyes, staring defiantly into Erik's hard glare for a moment, before sighing heavily.

"Listen, Erik, despite what you may think, what I told you this morning doesn't change anything between us. Just because you've learned that I have a dark past doesn't necessarily mean that everything I do is out to prove something. My reasons for going to Texas are what I've told you multiple times now: I want to fix a problem before it explodes in our faces."

Erik opened his mouth to reply, but Charles cut across him.

"You are right about one thing, though. I don't trust you. I can't. Not right now. I do however forgive you and really wish that you would stop blaming every little thing that's happened to me on yourself."

"A bullet in your spine is hardly little, Charles."

The ignored muscle spasms in Charles' back fully agreed with Erik, but Charles refused to acknowledge it.

"But it wasn't your fault, as I have blatantly told you time and time again. Nor was Kurt's abuse, nor were my actions of that. Come to think of it, the only thing that I can blame you for is for saving me from myself."

Erik raised an eyebrow, obviously confused as to the sudden turn this conversation had taken.

"How so?"

Charles twisted his lips into the faintest beginnings of a smile. It faded quickly.

"You don't know how dark things got after Alex died."

The familiar pain clawed at his heart and threatened to overcome him, but with a Herculean effort, Charles shoved it to the back of his mind. He would deal with it later.

Erik looked at a loss for words. Charles pressed on.

"What you saw before the CIA took you was only one snippet in a very long line of depression. For all of us, though I think I was the most effected because of my empathy."

Erik's face darkened into an impassive, emotionless mask. Charles hated that look, knowing what it usually boded, from both experience and Erik's memories.

"This isn't your fault, Erik. Please, remember that. You weren't the one who forced Alex to go to Vietnam. If anyone is to blame in this, it's me. And I know that."

"How is Alex's stepping on a landmine your fault?"

Charles looked away, wishing that he had never decided to pursue this line of conversation. He would gladly have Erik be mad at him and think he was insane then to be forced to reveal what he had done to Alex.

Erik, however, was never one for giving up.

"Charles."

"I encouraged Alex to go. I told him that it would be good for him, that he could save lives and all that usual recruiting crap. I should have known better. Especially after…"

He was about to say my own father's death, but admitting it out loud somewhere other than the solitude of that satellite dish with all that came afterward seemed almost sinful.

Erik made a noise that could have been anything from a sigh to a whimper. Charles looked back at him, surprised to find the range of emotions on Erik's face. The other man looked almost compassionate about Alex's death and everything that it entailed. He didn't look accusing or hateful after Charles' revelations. Though, some part of Charles suspected that Erik had already known. During their first few meetings, Charles' mental shields had been down so low that it wouldn't have taken much for Charles to accidentally project things to anyone, let alone a mind he was intimately familiar with.

Charles looked away again, unable to bear looking at the look in Erik's eyes, knowing that he wasn't worthy of such a look.

"Charles…"

Whatever Erik had been about to say was interrupted by Hank, who obviously had sensed the mounting tension in the back of the plane and decided to change the subject. Though Charles was grateful for it, he rather regretted Hank's choice of subject.

"Professor, I was wondering… why couldn't you read or change Stryker's mind?"

Charles sighed. Why couldn't he have just stayed in bed this morning?