Okay, so I originally hadn't intended on this first section being in this story. It was posted as a one-shot (which has been taken down...) but I decided that it fit so perfectly here that I wanted it to be in here. So, I apologize if you have to reread it...

Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews!

PTB's Red Fox: Onslaught can never accept defeat! But feel free to hug Charles :) Lord knows he needs it after everything I've put him through (and am going to put him through...)

Haylia Jones: I am seriously thinking about making that line into a one-shot... because I have lots of ideas for that one. : ).

The Singing Duck: I'm glad you liked it! And as for them relying on Hank and Sean, we're getting to that point! Yay! But as for Charles and Erik accepting that idea... well, that's the fun part, right? :)

221.B.B: Thank you for your kind words! I'm glad you've been enjoying getting updates. :) And we'll eventually get around to what Charles is hiding... I promise! And as for the two separate story-lines, there actually is an underlying motive... but... we won't get to that for at least another five or seven chapters.

Perks of Being a Telepath

Chapter 43: Reassurances

There were seventeen cracks on the ceiling.

Charles had counted every single last one of them multiple times over the past hour.

A month passed since Erik brought Charles home.

A lot had changed. Charles was steadily starting to grow stronger after the imprisonment and the alcohol and drug abuse, though there were still times when he had a mental breakdown of sorts. But those were becoming less and less frequent and Charles was slowly starting to gain confidence in himself once more.

He couldn't sleep—he hadn't been able to ever since he had thrown Onslaught into that vortex. Every single time he closed his eyes, Charles could still see the horrified surprise on his darker half's face moments before Charles threw Onslaught over the edge.

It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. After all, only one of them could have won, and had Onslaught been the victor, Charles knew it would have meant certain death for the people who he cared about.

But Onslaught was still there. Whatever that vortex had been, it wasn't certain death. There was still a chance Charles' darker side could get out again—that next time, he would win.

Angrily, the telepath shoved the thought out of his head and rolled over on to his side, pain flaring ever so slightly in his ribs. They still hadn't fully recovered from the bullet wound Moira had inflicted.

He flinched, before letting out a soft sigh. His mind was a jumbled mess, still trying to work through what happened both during his imprisonment and after. He couldn't find the serenity he so desperately needed, and his injuries weren't helping. Nor were the uneasy minds coming from all over the safe house.

Charles closed his eyes and slowly counted back from one hundred. It was an old trick he used when he was a teen, when Kurt had completely destroyed all of Charles' already weak shields and the young telepath couldn't handle the onslaught of emotions coming from the occupants of the mansion.

It didn't work. He got all the way down to one and was still unable to find some sort of peace.

Charles threw off the covers and stumbled out of bed, wincing as the pain in his chest ignited. He paused halfway between sitting and standing, trying to catch his breath. It took a few moments, but soon, the black spots faded from his vision and the pain cleared enough for Charles to consider walking again.

He walked haltingly out of his room and paused, reaching out with his mind to check where everyone else was. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted company.

Luckily, Hank was in the basement, working on some sort of scientific experiment, Raven was burning off some energy in the makeshift gym, and Sean was in his room. Erik was on the roof, remodeling the metal fixtures as he mulled over what all had happened.

The telepath sighed, knowing he would have to deal with all of those at some point during the evening.

Charles headed downstairs and outside, not realizing that it was snowing until he was ankle deep and barefoot in the slush.

He shivered, but the fact that it was cold didn't bother him. In fact, it was invigorating, washing away the last of the pain that had been plaguing him all day.

Snow was falling gently from the night sky, bathing the world in silence and peace. The warm glow from the houses below cast a soft light on the front lawn

Erik stood on the front steps near the driveway, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared off into the distance. He turned when he heard Charles' footsteps.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

The telepath made a face.

"It's hard to sleep with you thinking so loudly."

The metal bender grimaced.

"I thought…"

He trailed off and gestured to the house behind them. Charles gave him a slight smile as he grasped what Erik was trying to say.

"With you, my friend, there has to be a hundred miles and a helmet between us before I can't hear your thoughts. I'm sorry for that, but I've spent so much time in your mind that it's impossible to block you out."

Erik sighed.

"I'm sorry, Charles."

"For what?"

"For all of this. For forcing you into the government takedown, for letting you get captured… all of it."

Charles smiled sadly.

"I hate to break this to you, Erik, but there are very few people in this world that can force me to do anything, and you aren't one of them."

Erik went to protest but Charles interrupted him.

"Everything that I've done, everything that's happened to me, it's been because I've wanted to do this. I wanted to help rescue those mutants and I wanted to help take down the government. And it's because of you, Erik, that I've been able to do any of those things at all."

The German didn't look convinced.

"You were imprisoned for over three months, Charles, because I couldn't save you."

Charles sighed.

"You were too, Erik. And if I recall correctly, I'm here because you managed to save me after all."

"Onslaught existed because of me."

"Don't give yourself that much credit—he's been a part of me for longer than I can remember."

Erik shook his head.

"I'm still sorry. For everything."

The telepath rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, feeling slightly triumphant when the latter didn't move away.

"Listen to me very carefully, my friend. I don't blame you for anything that has happened. I've had time to walk away from all of this and I haven't. Whatever has happened to me has been of my own doing. I chose this life, Erik. You didn't force me into it and you're not forcing me to stay with it. I'm here because I want to be."

Erik closed his eyes and turned away.

"Why did you decide on this life?"

Charles folded his arms over his chest.

"You know why."

"I can honestly say I don't. Not after everything that I've seen recently."

The faces of all the young mutants they didn't save flashed through Charles' mind followed by the aftermath of the experiments and torture they had been too late to stop, the face of Stryker, cold and malicious. The plastic cells, the sleepless nights, the bullet wounds, the fear, the feeling of being overwhelmed… there was no end to the horrors they had witnessed.

But there were the mutants they had been able to save, the safe houses they had managed to create, the inhumane acts they had managed to be in time to stop. The little girl who could change the weather who was asleep a few yards away was only alive because Erik and Charles had been able to save her.

Erik himself was one of the mutants Charles counted as having been saved, though he kept that thought to himself.

"If everything that has happened to me recently is worth the freedom of the twenty-six mutants we saved that night you broke out of the CIA without me, then that is why I stay with this life. Because we are making a difference, Erik."

Erik shook his head.

"It's not enough, Charles. It's been three years and we're still being hunted. Still being treated like we're less than the humans."

"We never thought this was going to be easy."

"I never thought it would be this hard, either."

A slideshow of the people Erik cared about, beginning with his mother, and ending with Charles in the middle of that CIA basement, flashed through Charles' mind, reminding the telepath that despite the strong front, Erik wasn't doing half as well as he had people believe. It was a testament to how strong the taller man was that he hadn't completely broken yet.

Charles squeezed Erik's shoulder.

"I know. But one day, the humans are going to realize just how wrong they were."

"Like the Nazis did?"

Erik pulled away from Charles and put a few feet in between them. The telepath let him go, unable to think of anything to say.

The metal bender pushed on.

"It was too late for my people when the Americans and Brits came to our rescue. It's always too late when we rescue the mutants. They're never going to be saved, Charles. Not all of them."

Charles closed his eyes.

"You can't think like that, Erik."

"One of us has to, Charles, because it's the truth. We can't save everyone. And it's never going to end. The hatred, the pain, the suffering… none of it. We are always going to be feared, because we have powers that no one else can match."

"So are you suggesting we just give up? Let the humans win?"

Erik violently shook his head.

"No."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

Erik looked at a loss for words. Charles continued before his friend had the chance to find them.

"We started this, knowing we weren't going to be able to save anyone. But the ones we do save will have better lives because of what we've done."

"So we should sacrifice the few for the good of the many?"

"If there was a way we could save everyone, then I would do it in a heartbeat, Erik. You know that. But there isn't. And there probably never will be. It's horrible and it's harsh, but it's life."

Erik was practically shaking.

"That's not good enough! I can't accept that other mutants are going to die because it's life."

This was why Charles fought so hard to save Erik time and time again. Because at the end of the day, he truly did care. He wanted to save others from the fate he had suffered. He didn't want the pain and suffering for others that this world held anymore than Charles did.

"It's not fair, Erik. It was never going to be fair. Not for us. But we can't give up on account of that. We have to keep fighting so that others don't have to suffer the same way you did."

"You're always so quick to become a martyr, Charles, that you forget that our kind doesn't need martyrs. We've lost enough already, to Shaw, to Stryker... if we lost you, then they would win."

"You're always so quick to cast yourself as the villain that you don't realize all the good you've done in this world, Erik. You forget that you've saved me far more times than I've saved you."

"I just want this to be over. I'm tired of fighting a losing battle, Charles. I'm tired of losing the people that I care about."

"You haven't lost me yet."

"But in the end, I know I will. I always lose."

Charles shook his head.

"You won't. I'm not going anywhere, Erik."

Erik sighed and looked back at Charles, his eyes full of pain and untold suffering. In that moment, Charles' heart broke, because he knew that there was nothing he could say to convince his friend.

The metal bender smiled sadly.

"Peace was never an option for me. I know that. I've known it all along."

"That's not true."

"It is. I guess I'm just having trouble coming to terms with the fact that it's not going to be an option for any of us."

"It will be. Maybe not now, but I promise you, Erik, the mutants and humans will one day be at peace."

"I hope you're right."

I do too were the words that Charles didn't say. Because Erik needed to believe that. And because Charles needed Erik to believe that. Because without hope, then there was nothing worth fighting for.

There was a heavy knock at his door.

Hank let out a loud, sleepy growl, already irritated. Was it too much to ask for one morning's worth of peace? Honestly, wasn't yesterday's jaunt to Texas enough excitement for one freaking morning?

There was another, more insistent knock at his door.

Apparently not.

The scientist sighed and rolled out of bed. He grabbed his glasses off the nightstand on instinct, his eyes barely open as he stumbled toward the door.

He yanked it open, fully intent on growling at whoever it was, but was brought up short when he realized it was just Sean. That alone was cause for alarm. The other teen was never up before noon.

"What, Sean?"

The redhead shook his head.

"It's Charles. He's gone."