So. I have a bit of a confession to make. And I feel terrible for telling you all of this, because it makes you think that I don't love you. But. The truth is, I have had this chapter written for the better part of ten months now and just have been completely forgetting to post it. I believe my logic was that at the time, I wanted to make it longer, or work on the first half of this... but whatever that logic may have been, it's over now. So. I apologize, so very much, for taking so long to update. I'm going to cite my first year away from home at college with some highly overdramatic friends (all of whom I love dearly, but are still really fucking crazy) as my excuse.
I'm in the process of writing the next chapter. And as I'm home for the summer and currently don't have a whole lot to do, expect a lot of updates. Because I do want to finish this story, and that shouldn't take too much longer. Though, I've been telling you all that forever now, so feel free not to believe me.
Anyway. I'm not sure where I left off on responding to everyone's reviews, so here goes: To everyone, and I mean everyone, who has ever read this story, reviewed this story, thought about leaving a review for this story but got distracted at the last minute, who has ever thought about reading this story but hasn't decided to until now, or anyone who has been remotely involved with this story: Thank you. You mean more to me than I can properly say, and I apologize deeply for leaving you all hanging so long. Hopefully you haven't all given up on me yet. But if you have, I understand.
Anyway. I LOVE YOU ALL. THANK YOU FOR BEING THERE FOR ME.
On with the story!
The Perks of Being a Telepath
Chapter 53: Realizations
This wasn't exactly the first time Erik had been on the wrong side of a dangerous man. It wasn't even the first time time he had been on the wrong side of a dangerous mutant or a dangerous telepath. Given that his past consisted of hunting down Nazis and Shaw, it really wasn't all that surprising.
This was, however, the first time Erik had ever truly believed he might have a chance of coming out the other side alive.
It had nothing to do with him. Truth be told, he had never felt more unable to do anything as simple as breathing, with all of the smoke curling around him.
It had everything to do with the fact that he was no longer alone.
True, he was alone at the moment, but he knew without a doubt that Charles was coming.
Such faith in one person used to be beyond Erik. He had never trusted anyone—a trait which he had always had, but was cultivated in the camps—and had never been willing to take a chance on anyone. In his opinion, people would betray you the moment they found out your weakness.
Then Charles came along and turned everything on its head and suddenly, Erik had someone who would be there for him no matter what.
It was a little bit disconcerting, to say the least, to the man who had no one to rely on but himself for the past thirty years, but now, as he found himself surrounded by fire and a dangerous synthetic mutant, Erik realized that he could get used to the idea.
A few hours later found Charles sitting a silent vigil beside Erik's bed.
The doctor had left about half an hour ago, declaring Erik would be just fine with plenty of bed rest and not a whole lot of activity for the next few weeks.
Charles buried his face in his hands, wincing as his shoulder throbbed dully. He had managed to dislocate it when he was trying to pull Erik out from Azazel's line of fire.
This had been a disaster, right from the beginning. What he had told Raven wasn't true, or at least, not entirely. They had been going after a fire mutant, but he hadn't exactly been free to take, so to speak. He was being kept prisoner at the CIA, and experimented on.
Angel and Azazel, for whatever reason, had decided that the CIA was their best bet for protection—and for revenge against Charles, though Charles had neglected to tell anyone of that particular fact—and had been guarding the fire mutant.
Needless to say, once they caught sight of Charles, things went to hell in a hand basket.
Charles let out a weary sigh, which he ended abruptly, when there was a soft chuckle from Erik's bed.
The telepath raised an eyebrow.
"What's so funny?"
Though it was completely dark, Charles could still tell that Erik was smiling.
The metal bender's voice was soft and hoarse as he replied.
"You."
Charles found that mildly offensive, seeing as he was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown.
He glared, knowing that its effect would be lost on Erik.
"How is that, exactly?"
There was a faint rustling on the bed, followed by a soft groan. Charles had half a mind to tell Erik not to move, but before had the chance, the lamp on the bedside table clicked on, bathing the room in a soft, warm light.
Erik looked considerably better than he had upon their arrival at the Westchester mansion. For one thing, he was no longer the color of paper, and for another, he was smiling.
Which, given everything that happened, was probably not an appropriate facial expression.
The metal bender let out a weary sigh.
"It's not your fault, you know."
It was. Had Charles not been daft enough to sit there, doing absolutely nothing, Erik wouldn't have felt the need to protect him.
Erik narrowed his eyes, clearly reading Charles' expression.
"Charles."
The telepath rolled his eyes.
"We both know perfectly well that it is."
"Right. So you grew a pointed tail and stabbed me with it, all without my knowing."
Charles really hated it when Erik was sarcastic, especially involving things like this.
"If I hadn't just been standing around uselessly, you wouldn't have gotten stabbed in the first place."
Erik snorted.
"Right. Because Azazel was only out to kill you, and not me."
Charles fell silent and looked away. He could feel Erik's shock, palpable as it was, without having to read his mind.
Before the metal bender had the chance to question him on it, there was a soft knock at the door. Charles knew, without bothering to cast his powers out, that it was Raven.
"Come in."
Erik shot him a dirty look, one that probably meant that he was planning all sorts of terrible revenge for this interruption, but Charles merely shrugged. He had promised Raven that he would tell her everything as well, and it seemed less painful to do it all at once than to do it separately.
Raven came in, and God bless her, she was carrying a tray of coffee, tea, and what resembled chocolate chip cookies. Charles wasn't entirely sure—they looked a little on the burnt side.
She smiled slightly at Erik.
"I'm glad you're awake."
Erik shifted uncomfortably, hissing slightly. Charles sent him an admonishing look, which the older man proceeded to ignore.
Raven sighed, setting down the tray on Erik's bed and curling up at the foot of it.
"What happened?"
Well, that was rather blunt, but then again, Charles' sister had never been anything but.
Charles let out another weary sigh.
"Angel and Azazel are working for the CIA."
Raven's eyes widened almost comically and her mouth fell open.
Erik let out a soft growl.
"I thought they were supposed to be on our side. They did ask us for protection awhile back."
Charles closed his eyes and shook his head.
"I can't say for sure if their intentions were honorable then or not. If you'll remember, I wasn't exactly in control of my telepathy then."
Erik flinched and looked away, while Raven shifted uncomfortably. Neither one of them had gotten over what had happened in Texas.
That makes three of us, Charles thought darkly.
Raven motioned for Charles to continue.
He did so, albeit reluctantly.
"I do know, however, that they aren't happy with me. Texas was supposed to have resulted in my death."
The words felt hollow as they left Charles' mouth, and he became very interested in a loose thread on Erik's blanket as his two closest friends stared at him, shocked.
Raven managed to form a slightly coherent sentence first.
"What the—I—what?"
Charles shook his head and spoke to the blanket.
"They blamed me for Erik's disbanding of the Brotherhood and their landing in prison. Since then, everything that's gone wrong, they've blamed me for."
Erik snorted.
"That's ridiculous."
"And true."
Erik set his jaw and glared, clearly ready to give one of his slightly flattering, overly offensive speeches about how moot Charles was in the grand scheme of things.
Charles mentally sighed.
It was great to have friends.
Raven, however, spoke before Erik had the chance.
"But how would killing you make any difference to what's happening to them now? And why ask us for protection in the first place?"
Charles fiddled with the loose thread and took his time answering.
"Cain's mutation, from what I gleaned from Azazel's mind, is a very limited form of telepathy. He can't exactly read minds, but he can control them. But –and this is purely guess work—I think that the amount of control he has leads to some sort of emotional backlash."
Erik stared.
Raven looked confused.
"Meaning?"
Charles lifted his good shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
"Meaning that whatever hatred he held for me—and I imagine it was quite a lot—transferred through the link he created between the mind he was controlling."
Erik made the connection seconds after Charles did.
"And you think he was only controlling Azazel's mind."
Charles shrugged again.
"Angel has shown in the past that she's been perfectly amenable to follow whoever she thought was the strongest power. Clearly, she thinks Azazel is, so she wouldn't require nearly the amount of mind control. Hence the reason why it was her idea to come to us for protection and not Azazel's."
Raven frowned.
"But that doesn't explain why they think everything that's happened is your fault."
Surprisingly enough, it was Erik who answered.
"It does if they think Charles is using his powers to control me as well. They think he forced me to end the Brotherhood, thus forcing them to go to the CIA. They also think I was the one who killed Emma."
He glanced at Charles, who nodded briefly.
Raven stared, dumbfounded. She looked at Charles.
"But you aren't! That's absolutely ridiculous."
Charles shook his head.
"To you, it's ridiculous, because you know me and trust me. Azazel doesn't. All he knows is that Erik left me behind in Cuba, and then a year later, came back. For all he knows, I forced him to come back as some sort of revenge."
"That's nuts!"
"That's the way it is, Raven."
She shook her head in frustration.
"So what? They're going to keep trying to kill you because they think that if they do, Erik will come back and save them?"
Silence met her question. Erik had already worked that much out on his own and Charles hadn't wanted to tell her. Or Erik, for that matter, but the metal bender was too intuitive for his own good.
Raven clenched her hands into fists, fury coming off her in waves.
"When were you going to tell me about this, Charles?"
The telepath ducked his head and looked away. The honest answer to her question was never. He hadn't planned on telling any of them anything about this, because they would wind up blaming themselves. He could already feel the first seeds of self blame growing in Erik's mind, as much as Charles had tried to quell them.
Erik let out a weary sigh.
"If it's going to endanger the rest of us, we have a right to know."
Charles looked up and glared.
"If you hadn't been so hell bent on jumping in front of me, you wouldn't have gotten stabbed at all!"
The metal bender blinked slowly and gave Charles a pointed stare.
"That wasn't what I was talking about."
Raven seemed to be in on whatever Erik was going on about, for she, too, was glaring rather pointedly at Charles.
The telepath sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, if that's all for cryptic statements, then I'm going to check on the others. I think Hank is—."
Raven rolled her eyes and interrupted him.
"You are so dense sometimes, Charles."
Charles raised an eyebrow.
"That's highly insulting, Raven."
Erik snorted.
"And true."
The telepath pointed a finger at his friend.
"You stay out of this."
Raven shook her head again.
"You really don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
She smiled slightly, though it was a cheerless smile, one that Charles recognized so immediately because it was an expression he had perfected himself. It conveyed fondness, and a deep sadness for whoever he was smiling at, for they didn't realize just how important they were.
Erik let out a sigh.
"If we have to explain it to you, then the point is lost entirely."