Once more, sorry for the delay!
Short chapter this time, but at least you get some snarky Erik and Charles! : ). And some Raven and Hank thrown into the mix for fun. Enjoy!
The Perks of Being a Telepath
Chapter 35: A Matter of Ideas
It took less than twenty minutes for Raven to explain to Sean about Charles' darker half and for them to realize that Erik's condition might have been caused by Onslaught. It took another five seconds for them to realize that Erik was probably still in danger and thus shouldn't be left unguarded.
Sean elected to stay behind to protect Erik, allowing Raven to go find out what happened to Hank. It wasn't a way of getting out of danger—quite the opposite, really. For all they knew, Onslaught had gone after Hank in efforts to draw Raven and Sean away from Erik so he could come back and finish the job.
Still, it didn't make Raven feel any safer as she stepped out of the cab and slowly walked up the steps to the hotel room.
The door was hanging on one hinge and there was an overall sinister feel to the air. There was a dark stain on the carpet just inside the door, one Raven prayed wasn't blood as she stepped over the threshold.
Inside, it was dark, the only light coming from the open door. It was just enough for Raven to make out Hank's unconscious form propped up against the bed.
"Hank!"
Fear coursed through her as she quickly crossed the small hotel room to get to his side. She searched desperately for a pulse, feeling momentously relieved when she found his heart beating away steadily.
Raven breathed a sigh of release as she leaned her head against the bed and gripped Hank's hand tightly in her own. Whatever her brother's darker half had set out to do, it hadn't been to kill Hank.
A bitter laugh escaped Raven's lips before she could stop it. Was this really what her life had amounted to? Being relieved when her now evil older brother failed in killing her best friend when it meant that he had some darker plot? Said evil older brother, who, barely a month ago, Raven nearly got herself captured and killed trying to rescue?
Hank stirred at the sound of Raven's laugh. He blinked, amber eyes locking on Raven in confusion.
"What happened?"
"I don't know, Hank."
"I remember Charles here… He was walking."
Raven shook her head.
"It wasn't Charles."
Hank sounded frustrated as he replied.
"Yes, it was. I've known him for nearly four years—I know who he is, Raven."
"I mean it was, but it wasn't."
That brought the scientist up short. He looked at Raven with a calculating expression on his face, before realization dawned on him.
"Charles has an alter ego."
Raven gaped at him.
"How did you know?"
Hank shrugged.
"I guessed. It's not like Charles to throw me across a room when he doesn't get what he wants."
Raven closed her eyes, guilt flooding through her. This was her fault. She should have figured it out sooner. She should have noticed the signs, should have noticed that Charles wasn't acting like himself. Sean of all people did.
"I'm sorry, Hank."
The scientist shook his head.
"Don't be. There's no way you could have known."
It was a lie. Raven had seen the signs before, she just didn't remember them. Or didn't want to remember them. And now, it was too late.
"What are we going to do, Hank?"
"We have to get Charles back."
He said it so simply and so bluntly, as though it were the only solution in the world.
"How?"
"I have no idea."
Charles all but fell into Erik when the police officer let him go inside the small jail cell. If it hadn't been for the metal wielder's steadying arms, Charles would have collapsed face first into the floor and probably never would have moved again.
"Easy, Charles. I've got you."
There was a moment of awkwardness between them as Erik maneuvered Charles' limp body as gently as he could to the floor. Charles attempted to help, but it felt as though his muscles had turned to jello in the short ride to the police station, and were now entirely useless.
It was all so surreal, what had happened to them. Charles still couldn't wrap his mind around it—it seemed impossible that the two of them would be blamed for the assassination of the President.
Then again, Erik had sent a thousand missiles toward the US and Russian Navies and Charles did just murder Emma Frost in cold blood, so maybe the assassination charges were a little justified.
Charles leaned his head against the cinderblock wall of their cell, letting out an involuntary groan as the cold rock soothed his blinding headache. His powers were still buried somewhere beneath the monster of a migraine he was sporting, leaving him worse than useless.
Erik stood above him, looking equal parts concerned and horrified. Clearly, he was having trouble understanding what happened too.
"Sit down, Erik. Your looming over me isn't going to help matters."
The metal bender looked as though he were about to refuse the order, but the expression on Charles' face stopped him. Wordlessly, he sat down.
Charles sighed.
"You don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass. I'm perfectly all right."
Erik scowled.
"You were barely breathing half an hour ago. Forgive me if I don't believe you."
"Your mind was almost erased half an hour ago. Forgive me if I think I have a better idea of how I am than you."
They glared at each other, exhausted blue eyes boring into stubborn grey-green. Surprisingly, Erik looked away first.
"I'm sorry."
Charles resisted the urge to smash his head against the wall, only because his head was pounding enough as it was.
"It's not your fault, Erik."
Erik made a noise halfway between a snort and a growl.
"What will it take for you to blame something on me?"
"Something that is entirely your fault that deserves your blame."
"I forced you to kill someone, Charles!"
"You didn't put the gun in my hand, nor did you force me to fire the weapon. I did that on my own."
Erik visibly clenched his teeth together and his knuckles went white. Behind him, the metal on the cell door began to vibrate.
Charles mentally sighed.
"Calm yourself, Erik. There's no need to draw unwanted attention to us."
It appeared as though Charles' words had no effect at first. However, at the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching, the metal stopped humming, and while Erik looked no less tense, he did unclench his fists.
The owner of the footsteps was a police officer, who appeared outside of the jail cell looking both hateful and wary. Upon the realization that nothing was happening, he quickly disappeared.
Charles folded his arms over his chest and fixed his friend with an expression of utmost disapproval.
"That was completely uncalled for."
Erik huffed a bitter laugh.
"You're sounding more and more like a professor every day."
It took every ounce of Charles' willpower not to roll his eyes at the statement, if only to preserve what little dignity he had left.
"Your insults leave something to be desired in the creativity department, my friend."
"Forgive my lack of imagination. It's been a hard day, what with the President assassinated, and my best friend being blamed for it and all."
"I guess I'll have to pardon you just this once, then, because it's been so hectic for you."
Sarcasm dripped off Charles' words like acid, hot and sharp. Erik barely seemed to notice.
"Is it any wonder why I don't like humans? They're so quick to blame us for everything that goes wrong."
Charles wondered when their conversation turned to their age-old argument.
"In their defense, it was a telepath that nearly succeeded in killing you."
Erik looked at Charles, his eyes full of the same darkness and hatred that the telepath had become all too familiar with in the days leading up to Cuba.
"You stand there and defend them, even though they'll execute you for something you didn't do."
"When it's your own race that has caused most of the evil you've seen in this world, you'd fight for the better one too."
By the look on Erik's face, he clearly hadn't expected that response. But before he had the chance to respond, the police officer from earlier came back.
Much to the surprise of both mutants in the cell, he unlocked the door.
"You're free to go."