Well... it looks like it's going to be another one of those weeks where you get slammed with updates. Hope you don't mind. :) (Though, to be honest, I'll probably stop updating on Wednesday and won't go back to updating until next week. I'm getting ready to go on a massive road trip and move... But I'll update when I can)

This chapter is basically just an excuse for some evil-guy monologue and a bar scene between Charles and Erik. Please indulge my cliches and don't kill me for the cliffhanger.

And by the way, this is perhaps one of my favorite chapters. :)

The Perks of Being a Telepath

Chapter 51: A Fire Rises

Erik groaned as he fought his way back to consciousness. It felt as though someone had beaten him upside the head with a lead brick.

A slow, cold chuckle reached his ears, followed immediately by the acrid scent of gasoline.

The metal bender slowly opened his eyes, hating how his vision blurred dramatically. He blinked, feeling slightly better when everything came into a fuzzy focus.

He was on the floor of what looked like an abandoned warehouse or construction site, given the amount of lumber and chains that were in the immediate vicinity. The smell of gasoline came from a cherry red can sitting about a yard away, on top of a large pile of scrap wood. The wood, Erik noted, was darkened, as though it had been soaked in the flammable liquid.

The laughter had come from Cain, who stood about ten feet away, with his thick arms crossed over his massive chest. His dark eyes were staring at Erik with smug satisfaction.

Erik rolled over onto his side, unable to keep himself from coughing as the movement caused him to inhale dust into his inflamed lungs.

Cain's smile grew.

"Well, well, well, looks like I didn't manage to kill you after all."

Erik coughed again, before replying.

"I don't know what you're planning, but it's not going to work."

Cain shrugged and cocked his head inquisitively.

"If you don't know what I'm planning, then how do you know it's not going to work?"

Erik smiled slightly.

"Because I know your stepbrother. And I know he's not going to let you get away with… whatever this is."

The kidnapper looked positively delighted.

"So Charlie did tell you who I am! I'm so proud that I rank so highly in his life. And here I had gotten to thinking he had forgotten about little old me."

Charlie.

The nickname struck a horrific chord in Erik's mind, reminding him all to forcefully of Onslaught. It was clear now where Charles' alter ego had gotten the moniker.

The metal bender forced himself into a sitting position.

"Yes, Charles did tell me all about you. About how your father tortured him, and you for good measure, and about all of the horrible things you did to him. Funny, I do distinctly remember Charles telling me he killed you…"

Rage flitted across Cain's face, so quickly that Erik almost missed it. It was replaced by another smile, though this one was far less pleasant as the synthetic mutant continued.

"Charlie never had the balls to do such a thing."

Erik snorted.

"Clearly, you don't remember Emma Frost."

Cain scowled and stalked over.

Stars exploded across Erik's vision as Cain's meaty fist collided with the metal bender's jaw.

"That diamond bitch practically committed suicide."

Erik spat blood out on the floor and winced. He was going to have one hell of a bruise.

Provided he got out of here alive.

Charles… if you're listening, please get here now.

"But it was Charles who pulled the trigger."

Cain growled, a low warning deep in his throat. Erik couldn't resist the smirk that crossed his face—clearly, Charles' random fits of murdering people was a touchy subject for the synthetic mutant.

The other mutant let out a weary sigh and shook his head.

"Charles won't be able to stop me. That, I guarantee you."

There was something about the cold edge to Cain's voice that gave Erik pause.

"And why do you think that?"

"Because he'll be too busy fighting that bitch of a sister."

Erik's heart skipped a beat as horrendous images of a bleeding Raven, screaming in pain, shot through his mind.

"You bastard."

The harsh whisper tore its way out of Erik's mouth before he could stop it.

Cain grinned, a rather sinister expression.

"That's not all I did."

Horror gripped Erik's chest, freezing him in place more effectively than any telepath.

Cain continued.

"I erased every single memory she had of everyone and everything she ever loved. She now thinks she's Mystique, a tough survivor of the streets. She's been tortured for years by humans, and has developed a healthy hatred for them. She also believes Charles is a weak, pathetic human who she has made it her life's mission to kill."

Erik could hardly breathe.

Cain's grin widened even more.

"And once dear Charlie realizes what's happened to his sister and has put her out of her misery, he's going to come here, looking for you."

Erik found his voice, rough and violent as it was.

"And you're going to kill him."

The other mutant laughed, a deep throated, chilling noise.

"No, Magneto. I'm not going to kill him."

There was a moment of silence, before Cain continued.

"You are."

A hysterical chuckle ripped itself free from Erik's throat.

"No, I won't."

If there was one thing he could never do, it would be to kill Charles.

Cain smiled again, feigned sympathy in his eyes as he calmly pulled out a match and struck it against one of the logs.

"I'm afraid, you won't have a choice."

He dropped the match on to the gasoline-soaked wood.

Given that both Charles and Erik were practically functional alcoholics, it made sense for them to wind up at a bar.

Erik cast a glance behind him at the very nice sports car they had arrived in.

"I do hope you don't plan on getting wasted, Charles. It would be a shame if you wrecked that car."

Charles merely shrugged, tossing his keys to Erik.

"Then you drive. Besides, you're much more likely to keep us from wrecking anyway, given your mutation."

He was still smiling that faint, slightly devious smile that made Erik simultaneously want to strangle him and grin. The metal bender settled for scowling, which only made Charles' smile widen.

They walked into the bar. As far as bars went, this one was pretty average, complete with dim lighting, the pungent smell of alcohol permeating the air, and the constant drunk in the far corner, nursing a bottle of beer. That's why it took Erik a minute to realize that he had been here before, what felt like decades ago.

He looked questioningly at Charles, who either didn't catch the look or chose to ignore it as they settled onto barstools.

It was the bar where they had repaired their friendship, close to a year ago.

Erik waited until Charles had ordered both of them beers before demanding to know what was going on.

"Why are we here?"

Charles cast him a sideways glance.

"I told you, we're celebrating."

"Not to be rude, but what do we have to celebrate?"

The telepath's smile widened even more as he reached into his jeans' pocket and produced a piece of folded white paper. He looked at it fondly for a moment, before pushing it over to Erik.

"My friend, we have everything in the world to celebrate."

Confused, Erik took the piece of paper and unfolded it gently. He skimmed its contents, his eyes widening as he realized what it meant.

He looked back to Charles.

"Is this for real?"

Charles nodded, taking a swig of his beer.

"I got the letter this afternoon."

"So…"

"In a few short weeks, we'll legally be able to house and train young mutants. Under the guise of a private academy, of sorts."

Erik looked back at the paper and then back at Charles, trying to figure out what had brought this on. Sure, there had been plenty of talk of starting something similar to this over the past year—and the metal bender knew Charles had had plans directly after Cuba—but he had assumed with the CIA constantly on them and their not so legal activities, the idea for a school had fallen through.

Clearly, it hadn't, which led Erik to his next question.

"Why now?"

Charles was quiet for a moment, toying with his bottle cap. His shoulders had slumped slightly, alerting Erik to his friend's change in mood. The metal bender felt immediately guilty, but didn't take his question back.

The telepath swallowed hard before replying. His voice was soft, barely carrying above the ambient noise of the bar patrons.

"I never thought we'd be able to save everyone. We practically declared war on the humans; I wasn't naïve enough to expect there wouldn't be casualties."

His words hit Erik hard, for the telepath had inadvertently threw the metal bender's harsh words from well over two years ago back in his face.

Erik looked away, drank some more of his beer, and waited for Charles to continue.

He did.

"In the midst of all of this thinking, I never once considered the possibility that Stryker would stoop so low as to experiment on children. Innocents, who had barely even realized they had a mutation, much less what it meant.

"After having to basically murder those in that base, I knew this couldn't go on. There has to be a line somewhere, and I draw it at mutilating children."

Charles' voice broke, and he paused only long enough to take a long pull of his beer before continuing.

"However, I knew Stryker wouldn't just stop because I wanted him to. So, after we got back to the mansion, I started working on a plan to keep that bastard from ever getting his hands on the children in the first place. This was the only idea I could come up with that didn't involve murder."

Erik's eyebrows shot to the top of his head as he looked back at Charles. He didn't doubt the cold, blunt honesty in the telepath's voice, but it was still a jarring surprise to hear the pacifist speak in such a way.

Charles grimaced at Erik.

"Don't look at me like that. You know as well as I do that I'm no saint."

Emma leapt to the forefront of both of their minds.

Erik sighed.

"I like it."

Charles raised an eyebrow.

"What? The part where I'm not a saint, or the school?"

A faint smile tugged at Erik's lips and he longed to say both, just to watch Charles' reactions, but instead, decided against it.

"The school. It's a perfect solution."

Blush crept up Charles' cheeks and he looked away, clearly embarrassed by the praise. This amused Erik to no end, but he said nothing of it.

Silence reigned for a few minutes as they finished off their beers.

Erik decided a subject change was in order. And since they were moving on to their second beer, he decided they were both probably buzzed enough for him to ask without Charles shutting down.

"I've been meaning to ask you… how did you make that shot in Texas?"

Charles frowned into his freshly opened beer.

"What do you mean?"

Erik growled, having never had any tolerance for Charles' evasions.

"You know what I mean."

The telepath shrugged and looked side long at Erik. There was something dangerous floating in his eyes.

"I may not be able to justify to myself shooting anyone point blank, but don't think for a second that doesn't mean I don't know how to use a gun."

This information honestly shouldn't have been surprising, given just how many secrets the professor had. But it made Erik curious.

"Where did you learn to shoot?"

The barest hint of a smile made its way to Charles' face. He was clearly grateful for the subject change.

"I was on the rifle squad at Oxford. I was too short for crew and had too many bad memories associated with track. Shooting a gun was something that, at the time, seemed practical."

After that, the conversation moved back to the school Charles wanted to start. The telepath was eager to talk about it, filling Erik in on the countless plans he had been working on for the past few weeks.

Erik listened half-heartedly, with an amused smile on his face. It wasn't that he didn't care what Charles was going on about, it was just that Erik was overwhelmed with the overpowering sense of relief that his friend might actually make it through this ordeal without too much emotional scarring.

The metal bender was emotionally scarred enough for the both of them.

Charles trailed off, looking guiltily at Erik.

"I'm boring you, aren't I?"

Erik was quick to shake his head.

"No."

The telepath looked suspicious and then sighed heavily.

"I'm not going to break, you know."

"I never said you were."

"But you thought it."

"If you don't like what you see, then stay out of my head."

Where that turn of phrase would have once put Charles on the defensive about his ethical standards of using his powers, now, it only made him smile. Erik smiled as well, remembering the long conversations they had had about the ethics of their mutations.

Charles glanced at the rather expensive watch on his wrist and grimaced.

"We should be heading home."

Home.

A simple word, but one that neither Charles nor Erik had ever really used. Erik, because he hadn't had one since he was nine and his world was ripped away from him. Charles, because as much as the mansion was his, it just wasn't.

Or, at least, it hadn't been, until he filled it with their small, but steadily growing family.

Erik smiled softly.

"Yes. We should."