Why yes. This is your fifth update in six days.
Point of interest: The first part of this chapter takes place roughly an hour before the present section of the last chapter. The second part of this chapter takes place about two-four weeks after the past section of the last chapter.
And as for all of you who are concerned about my most recent admission: A Brazilian writer once said, everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end. I'll leave you to decide your definition of okay. That's all I'm saying about that.
One final thing: I wrote the first half of this chapter at 4:00 in the morning, after seeing the Dark Knight Rises. Any mistakes are therefore due to that.
The Perks of Being a Telepath
Chapter 49: Unexpected Encounters
Charles pressed up against the wall, hardly daring to breathe as the security guards jogged by. He sighed shakily, thanking whatever god was out there that his ability allowed him some invisibility.
The telepath waited until the guards rounded a corner before he dared move again. He glanced back, raising and bending two fingers toward the corner down the hallway. Sean and Hank appeared simultaneously from opposite ends of the hallway, looking around cautiously, before making their way cautiously over to Charles.
Sean folded his arms over his chest and looked around anxiously.
"That was too close, Professor."
A small smile played at Charles' lips.
"Live a little, Sean."
The redhead narrowed his eyes, but relaxed ever so slightly.
Hank let out a slight growl, showing just how nervous he was.
"Do we have an actual plan or are we just going to sneak through the base until we find the children?"
Charles resisted the urge to roll his eyes, making a mental note to ensure that Hank and Erik spent less time around each other.
"From what I've gleaned from the guards' minds, the children are down the stairs and to the-."
He broke off mid sentence as another mind caught his attention.
Stryker.
The newly promoted colonel wasn't supposed to be here. That was why Charles had decided to come tonight, and why he hadn't needed Erik to come. Stryker was supposed to be at CIA headquarters. Not here.
Shit.
This was very not good.
Hank growled again.
"What's wrong?"
Charles held up a hand for silence, while simultaneously casting his mind out to see what was happening.
There was another mutant in the base, one who held as much hatred for Stryker as Charles did. His mind felt familiar, as if Charles had once touched it before.
A memory of a dimly lit bar back before everything floated through the telepath's mind and he immediately understood.
The telepath was suddenly faced with two choices: he could risk exposing himself to Stryker, or he could help ease the other mutant's path to Stryker and let that mutant do the freeing of the mutants.
Sean shifted restlessly behind Charles.
"What are we waiting for?"
A faint smile briefly crossed the telepath's face as he made a decision.
"A little extra help. Boys, we need to get back to the plane. Now."
Simultaneous protests erupted from the younger mutants. Charles held up a hand for silence, pleased when it worked.
"I'm asking you to trust me and not to ask questions until we're back at the plane. Can you do that?"
He received two solemn nods, which he returned with one of his own.
"Good. Now let's go."
As the trio turned and headed back the way they had come, Charles once more reached out with his mind. For this plan to work, he needed someone to lead the other children. He highly doubted his recently acquired acquaintance would do that.
His hear skipped a beat as his mind linked with a mind that felt all too hauntingly familiar.
It wasn't an exact match—this mind was a few years younger, and one that Charles had never been in before. But still…
The mind belonged to Scott Summers. Alex's younger brother.
Pain. Suffering. Terror. Never ending, heart wrenching, choking fear.
It was all around him. It was threatening to become him. There was nothing he could do to stop this, nothing to take away the pain and the sadness that took the place of oxygen in that jail block.
Charles sank to his knees, his fingers flying to his temples in a vain attempt to block the horrifying emotions emitting from every single cell.
Erik stood behind him, a quiet presence of calm in the midst of a whirlpool of raging emotions. Without thinking, Charles latched on to his friend's mind and held on for dear life.
Were the others like this?
The metal bender's silence more than an answer, one that Charles didn't even want to think about.
He swallowed hard, trembling violently as he attempted to get to his knees.
This was too much. He had known things were bad for the mutants who were rounded up—Erik's lingering injuries were proof enough to that—but to actually see and feel it firsthand…
Erik's hand rested gently, yet firmly on Charles' shoulder, anchoring the telepath and preventing him from being taken into the interminable sea of despair.
"We don't have much time."
There was only stark grimness in the metal bender's voice, where Charles knew there should have been accusations and a distinct feeling of I told you so. Because Erik had, so many, many times before. He had warned Charles before any of this started, but Charles was too arrogant—too naïve—to believe in the true horrors of this world.
We have common enemies. They need us.
For now.
The chess match in front of Lincoln's memorial floated through Charles' mind. He closed his eyes against the tears that burned his eyes—how could he have been so stupid?
The humans had never needed the mutants. Not even when it was a mutant threat they were facing. Nor had they ever wanted the mutants—the beach had proved that much.
Erik had been right all along. Human kind was a scared race, fighting for its survival, willing to destroy their next stage of the evolution, instead of working together.
And here was proof. Sheer, tangible, incontrovertible proof that everything Erik had feared and warned about was right. That the humans were really this cruel and everything Charles had hoped to believe would happen never would.
"Charles…"
Erik's soft voice was full of understanding and sorrow.
Charles shook his head.
"I never realized…"
He trailed off, not knowing quite how to finish that sentence.
The hand on Charles' shoulder tightened, conveying that Erik knew and understood.
Of course he did.
But there was a sadness to the metal bender that Charles could feel underneath all of the other pain and suffering in the room. Erik hadn't wanted to be right about this—he had longed to be wrong about this, even when he knew it was an impossibility.
Charles took a deep, shuddering breath.
"We need to get them out of here."
Erik nodded once, his face full of compassion and grief. Had Charles not been so distraught about the current conditions of his fellow mutants, he would have been proud of that expression.
There were a few faint clicks as Erik manipulated the metal doors to open.
Charles reached out with his powers as the emotions in the cells took a turn for fear.
It's all right. We're here to help you. You're safe now. You can come out.
It physically pained Charles to touch the minds of these mutants. None of these mutants remembered what it meant to be free—all they remembered was pain and unceasing fear. Their minds were so twisted from their horrors that they were no longer capable of coherency.
They were nothing more than wild animals, cornered and frightened, shrinking away from Charles' promise of hope because they didn't understand it.
A tear slid down Charles' face as his mind touched that of a young child. She was barely nine-years-old. She was capable of starting a fire with a snap of her fingers. But the CIA had tortured her, pushing her far past the limits of what she could do, stripping away at her humanity in the process. There was nothing left in her, no sign of life, no sign of yearning to be free.
It was the same in the other ten mutants.
"Erik…"
Charles' voice came out in a tangled sob as he realized these mutants were beyond saving. They had been pushed past the point of physical and emotional endurance. There was no hope for them—not even Charles could save their minds.
Bile rose in Charles' throat. This was Hell and it existed because of him. Because of his stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, everyone could live in peace.
That was never going to happen. And now, eleven mutants were forced to pay the price.
It was never the humans who needed us. It was the mutants. Our own kind.
Why couldn't he have listened to Erik so long ago? Why had it been so hard to believe that the humans would turn against them? It was what humans did. It was what they had always done.
Some genius you are.
"Charles."
Erik's gentle reminder brought Charles out of his haze of self-hatred and blame.
The telepath shook his head.
"They're too far gone."
"Schibe. I was afraid of that."
"I'm going to put them out of their misery."
Charles' voice was surprisingly steady and somehow, he was able to meet Erik's sorrowful gaze.
Erik nodded once.
"Do you want me to…?"
He trailed off, gesturing to the cells.
Charles shook his head, understanding immediately what his friend was trying to ask. While he appreciated it, he knew that Erik couldn't come.
"No. This is something I've got to do for myself."