Y'all thought I forgot about Onslaught, didn't you? Ha.

Well. This is only one day later than I originally planned it to be, so that's something.

As I probably told most of you who reviewed, this chapter is a fucking beast. It's twice the word count of the one I posted the other day. So. I hope that sort of counts for something.

I'm really not too sure of this chapter, because it fought me every single step of the way. So, I hope you guys enjoy it.

You all might get super lucky and get another chapter by about middle of next week. I have no life. Hope you don't mind. And it'll probably be long, too.

Perks of Being a Telepath

Chapter 56: A Crisis of Conscience

Two weeks had passed since Raven left. Charles half-heartedly used Cerebro to track her movements, knowing that she was alive and somewhere in the middle of the country, but did nothing about it. She had made her decision and wouldn't listen to him, no matter what the circumstances.

He was sitting by Alex's grave, one of the few places left to him that wasn't crowded by tense or anxious thoughts. Aside from Erik, none of the mutants knew that Raven had left, but they were all supercharged over the most recent bit of government news. A new law had been passed, one that declared mutants little more than animals, and were now tantamount to game as it became hunting season. It was sickening, what the so called "intelligent leaders" of the day believed about the mutant race.

It was times like these that Charles half-wondered if Erik hadn't been right all along in destroying the humans first. After everything they had done to the mutants, when all the mutants wanted was a chance to survive…

The humans were scared they were facing their own extinction. Charles knew that, tried to keep it in mind, even with the new, harsher laws that were being passed every so often. But these laws were cowardly, far below what Charles knew the human race was capable of, and he could no longer just passively sit by and watch his kind be exterminated by blind hatred.

Especially not when his own sister, who was very comfortable in her own obvious mutation, was out there, trying to kill two people who had tried to kill him.

Charles' hands clenched into fists, and he fought very hard against the voice in the back of his mind telling him to just give in to the anger. He had been down that road once before, and it had almost destroyed him. He refused to go down it again.

Behind him, someone coughed. Startled, Charles turned, relaxing ever so slightly when he saw Erik. Erik didn't give a shit one way or the other if Charles had himself under control.

Erik raised an eyebrow.

"Are you hiding?"

Charles shrugged his good shoulder.

"It's quieter out here than it is in there."

"Indeed."

Without further prompting, Erik sat down next to Charles. It was only the second time since the metal bender had returned home that he had been at Alex's grave. His face was unreadable as his green eyes rested on the gravestone.

The lure to read his mind was great, but Charles resisted it. He didn't want to invade his friend's privacy. Not now. Not when it felt as though the government was trying to invade everyone's privacy.

In a surprising show of restraint, Erik had never once told Charles that they could have prevented all of this in Cuba, or many times since had the telepath been inclined to listen to him. It was a sign that things had changed significantly since then.

Normally, Charles would have appreciated the signs of growth, but not today. Today, he needed to argue with someone about how he utterly he had failed the mutant race. How utterly he had failed Raven, to the point where she had gone off on her own to try to protect him.

Erik turned his gaze to look at the telepath.

"You're thinking too much, Charles."

Charles sighed. His voice was small when he spoke.

"I failed her, Erik."

"You taught her to be a strong, independent woman. She is just trying to protect the brother that she loves."

"I don't need protecting, Erik. And this… this isn't protection! This is revenge. You, of all people, should know where that leads."

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but Erik didn't look angry. Instead, he merely looked thoughtful.

"I cannot honestly say that I disagree with Raven's actions. It would be hypocritical of me to say otherwise. But, I can say that you are right; this isn't going to lead anywhere good."

Charles opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, feeling like a fish out of water. He had expected Erik to come to Raven's defense, claim that it was the only way to protect Charles. He still wasn't used to Erik's newfound sense of serenity.

Erik continued.

"However, Raven will not listen to you if you go after her. I gather that you've already figured that out, or otherwise you would have left, the fact that you've been injured notwithstanding."

There really wasn't anything Charles could say to that without sounding like a liar.

"What do you think we should do, my friend?"

The metal bender studied Charles, his green eyes serious and intense.

"Let me go after her."

"No."

"Charles…"

"Erik, no. You've just admitted that you agree with her actions! How the hell am I supposed to believe that you won't be going just to help her along?"

Because if I did, you would never let me come back.

The words weren't spoken, but they were plain in Erik's mind. Flashes of what happened after Cuba flitted around the words, like some sort of grisly short film. There was a soundtrack of sorrow and self-hatred underscoring the entire experience.

It was obvious, then, that Erik would never willingly go down the path that led him to killing Shaw ever again. He had lost far more than his mother or himself; he had thought he had lost the one chance of redemption and humanity he had ever had when the bullet had shattered Charles' spine. When Charles had forgiven him, it was as though Erik had been given another lease on life. And what he was fighting for now—acceptance, mutant rights, and an overall better world—was far more important and far more satisfying to him than seeking revenge ever could be.

Yes, Erik hated Azazel and Angel for what they believed Charles was. Yes, he would not take any extreme measures to save their lives if it came down to it. But nor would he actively seek to kill them, finally understanding what Charles had been trying to tell him for years. There were other ways to defeat the enemy, better ways, ways that defined the line between being the better man and just being a man.

The sentiment was as strong and honest as the memory of Erik's mother once had been. The sheer force of it was enough to take Charles' breath away.

This. This impossible change in character was what made all of the madness worth it. If a man as stuck in his ways and as powerful as Erik could come around to the idea of being a better man, of being a pacifist instead of an aggressor, then maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the mutant race in a world of frightened humans.

Erik was still staring at Charles intently, but he seemed to sense he had won the argument. He rose to his feet, brushing dirt off his jeans. He held a hand out for Charles, who accepted it, and allowed Erik to pull him to his feet.

Charles rested a hand on Erik's shoulder.

"You are still injured, my friend. Are you sure you are ready for this?"

The metal bender nodded.

"I would not risk Raven's life or sanity if I weren't."

Had it been anyone else, Charles would have assumed they were lying. But Erik knew exactly what would happen if he failed to bring Raven home. He had been down that road, and it was only after a very long time that he steered himself off it. He would never put someone he cared about as much as he did Raven in a position like that. Erik was cruel and unforgiving to his enemies, but to his allies and friends—family—he would never fail them.

Charles nodded once.

"Bring her home, Erik."

Orange flames cast an eerie glow on the inside of the building. The smoke was thick, making vision almost impossible.

Charles coughed, his eyes watering as he lifted the collar of his shirt to cover his nose and mouth. Hank hadn't been wrong earlier, when he said the smoke alone would be enough to kill him.

But Charles couldn't give up on Erik, nor could he risk letting Cain walk away from this incident unscathed. For all the telepath preached about rising above things and refusing to sink down to the revenge level, he could not condone letting Cain walk free.

Erik's mind was like a homing beacon, drawing Charles to it. The telepath was grateful, for he couldn't see past the billowing smoke, and the strange shadows caused by the fire.

The metal bender was collapsed in an ungraceful heap on the ground a heart stopping too few yards away from a pile of a massive pile of burning wood.

"ERIK!"

Charles' voice was inhuman as the metal bender's name ripped itself out of his throat.

Blood was trickling down his friend's head and the taller man's eyes were closed. If it weren't for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, Charles would have thought him dead.

The telepath quickly crossed the room and crouched down beside Erik. He brushed his hand against the other man's, reaching out with his mind.

His heart nearly broke in two when he found the same mental blockade he'd discovered in Raven's mind.

He was too late.

There was a chuckle behind him.

"Admiring my handy work?"

Charles closed his eyes, counting slowly down from ten and attempting to gain his harsh, ragged breathing under control. He stood up, opening his eyes as he turned around.

A rather unimpressive looking man of medium height stood ten feet away against a dramatic backdrop of burning wood and swirling smoke. He was only a couple of inches taller than Charles, with military regulation brown hair, a round, hollowed face, and a crooked nose. His eyes were sunken, but their mud brown color held the same, malicious sheen as they did in Charles' memories and nightmares. He was dressed in a pair of camo pants, black combat boots, and a long-sleeve olive colored thermal shirt that was stained with blood.

Charles knew without a doubt that the blood belonged to both Raven and Erik. The grim knowledge added steel to his voice.

"Cain."

The synthetic mutant grinned, revealing crooked, yellowed teeth. He was entirely gruesome.

"You remember me, Charlie! How kind of you!"

The nickname had once been enough to send Charles into a mild state of terror, for it always preceded beatings and unspeakable tortures.

Now, it had the opposite effect. Charles straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin defiantly. All thoughts of Erik's mental state and overall wellbeing were pushed firmly out of his mind.

"It's kind of hard to forget the boy whose father almost killed you."

Cain sauntered forward until there was only about a foot of space between him and Charles. The latter resisted the urge to take a step back, knowing that's what the bastard wanted.

Even through the acrid smoke, it was impossible to miss the stench of rot and decay that clung to the synthetic mutant as he leaned forward, his face inches from Charles'.

"My father was only trying to figure out what made you tick. He never wanted you, but he wanted your powers for himself. But you killed him before he had the chance to figure it out."

The harsh reminder of what had happened all those years ago was still enough to make Charles flinch.

Cain's grin widened.

"Turns out, he didn't have a fucking clue as to what he was doing. But luckily for me, I found someone who did."

"Stryker."

"My, my, you have done your homework. Yes. Stryker figured out the key to both my father's and your research and created the ability to make mutants himself. And as you can see, it worked."

But it didn't work, not really. Charles could see that plainly now as he stood in front of Cain, with the fire creeping slowly toward them. Whatever it was that had been done to Cain had caused a severe reaction in the other man's body, causing it to literally rip itself apart. The work Cain had done to destroy Raven and Erik's mind had come at a terrible cost to himself.

Stryker had been looking for a way to destroy the mutants by using their mutations against them. He was looking for the ultimate power. And now his toy was falling apart and even if he wanted to, he couldn't fix it.

This was a suicide mission, as much as it was a combative one. Cain wasn't intended to come back from this.

In fact, Charles realized with heartbreaking certainty, Stryker intended for Charles to kill Cain. The man knew exactly what the agony of having to kill someone would do to Charles, and he had systematically wiped out the telepath's support system before doing it, too.

It was a beautiful strategy. Even as the man who suffered the most as a result of it, Charles could see and appreciate the brilliance and conniving that had gone into it.

Check to Stryker.

Something stirred in the back of Charles' mind, like a bear waking up from hibernation.

And perhaps Stryker's strategy would have worked, had Stryker counted all of the elements. All of the players, so to speak.

The extra consciousness in Charles' mind blinked, taking in the sights.

Charles resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

It took you long enough, Onslaught.

My apologies, Charlie. I didn't realize you were planning on being suicidal tonight of all nights.

Can you do anything to fix Erik?

There was a noise akin to an exasperated sigh.

I am not a healer, Charles. That's your job. I'll take care of him.

If there was one thing Onslaught and Charles could agree on, it was their mutual hatred of Cain. While Onslaught had, in a sense, been created because of Kurt—and to a lesser extent, Cain—he had been imbued with enough of Charles' emotions about the two to foster his own hatred for them.

Cain was watching Charles carefully, clearly sensing something was up. By all reports of what had happened in the past, Charles should have worked himself into a righteous rage by now. Stryker—and thereby, Cain—held all the cards, didn't they?

Charles smiled serenely.

"Stryker's mutations didn't work. At least, not entirely."

Cain bristled, surprise and fear warring for domination on his face. Clearly, whatever plan he had worked out with Stryker hadn't included this scenario.

"You're lying! I'm far more powerful than you could ever imagine."

His eyes danced past Charles, to where Erik was still in an unconscious heap. Charles forced himself not to look, knowing that if he did, what little courage he had left would shatter.

Onslaught was fully awake now.

Let me at destroy him.

Not yet.

The timing had to be perfect. Too soon, and Charles would never figure out what Cain had done to Erik and Raven, thus losing them forever. Too late and Cain would destroy Charles. Because while Stryker had ordered him not to, Cain couldn't contain the hatred he had for his stepbrother, any more than Charles could really control his.

Charles swallowed hard.

"I'm not denying you are powerful. I'm saying that your powers are destroying you. You aren't going to win this fight, Cain."

It was a hard, undeniable truth. Even if it wasn't Charles or Onslaught that killed him, Cain wasn't going to walk out of this burning building alive.

In another life, Charles might have felt sympathy for him, the way he had once felt about Emma, Azazel, and Angel. The way he could have felt about Shaw, if the man hadn't turned Erik into a revenge-driven monster.

But that life was gone, along with whatever had made Erik, Erik. When Cain had erased Erik's humanity, he might as well have done the same to Charles.

Stryker knew that. He was counting on it.

Charles had exactly a split second before the synthetic mutant slammed into him. The sheer force of the other man's attack sent Charles sprawling to the ground, inches away from the flames.

He swore violently, kicking out with his legs and catching Cain's stomach with his feet. The shorter man cursed and staggered backward. Charles leapt to his feet, coughing as he inhaled a lungful of smoke.

Cain recovered all too quickly, barely giving Charles a chance to regain his footing before launching another attack.

Instinctively, Charles' fingers flew to his temple and he reached out with his powers.

Onslaught was already raring to go.

Let me go.

Charles mentally shook his head, slamming into a telepathic block that felt like glass. It wasn't time. Not yet.

He managed to briefly hobble Cain, just long enough for him to regroup and move away from the flames that were beginning to lick at his shoes.

Cain let out a harsh laugh.

"You're not as powerful as you think you are, Charlie!"

Charles renewed his telepathic attack. Onslaught let out a growl of frustration, which Charles studiously ignored. He had earned his chance for vengeance. Onslaught could wait a few minutes longer.

Cain's smile disappeared and he visibly struggled to repel Charles. While he had the same strange barrier in his mind that Charles had once encountered in Emma all those years ago in Texas, now it was almost easy to find the smallest chink in the armor and exploit the hell out of it.

It was funny, Charles considered grimly as he broke apart the shields Cain had so carefully put into place with help from Stryker's shielding serum, how easy it was to use his abilities when he just didn't care anymore.

Cain sank to his knees, blood seeping out of his nose now. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was panting heavily.

A few more minutes and he's dead.

Onslaught's voice stopped Charles in his tracks. He pulled his fingers away from his temple.

It was ironic, Charles' darker half stopping him from killing someone.

Now, now, Charlie. You know as well as I do that I'm all for you killing him. But you want answers, first. Like if you can save that darling sister or Erik.

I know, Onslaught. Now shut up.

Cain was no longer laughing as he struggled to get to his feet. His brain, Charles knew, was barely held together. In the briefest moments that Charles had been in his mind, the former had destroyed a lot.

Not that there was much to begin with, outside of hate and cruelty.

The synthetic mutant glared at Charles, though the effort was costing him. There was a faint pressure in Charles' mind, one that he batted away easily.

"Still think I'm not as powerful you are, Cain?"

There was no answer.

Charles pressed on.

"Tell me how to fix Erik and Raven."

"You can't."

Cain let out a scream as Charles sent a lightning bolt of pain running through his already fragile mind. He sank to his knees, his hands clutching at his temples.

Charlie…

Not yet, Onslaught.

Charles took a few steps forward.

"You took my family away from me, you bastard. Now you're going to give them back."

Cain shook his head.

"You don't get it, do you? There is no giving them back. I destroyed what made them who they are. And I don't regret it, either."

The punch that Charles threw landed squarely against the synthetic's mutant face, surprising both of them with the power behind it.

Cain chuckled breathlessly, which ended in a horrific cough.

"You thought all of your caring and your friendship was the way to win. Look where it's gotten you. Here, with me, where all you can do is hit me because there is nothing you can do to save the ones you care about."

Charles glared.

"I am better than you. I never destroyed the minds of my enemies."

Cain smiled darkly, blood staining his yellowed teeth as it dripped down from his nose.

"But you wanted to. You want to now. You want to reach into my mind and rip me apart. And you could do it. I doubt it would even be that hard for you. You've done it before. With my father."

Charles' hands twitched.

Cain continued.

"Oh, but you don't count that, do you? That was just an act of self-defense, an accident. You didn't mean to stop his heart. Not poor little innocent Charles."

"Shut up."

Charles' voice was harsh and the telepathic influence in his voice was strong, though it wouldn't do anything.

Cain's grin widened.

"Touched a nerve, didn't I? Well, here's hoping I kill a few more before the end of the night."

Before Charles had the chance to even begin to think about what that meant, he was aware of strong arms wrapping around his waist and all but throwing him across the room.

He hit the ground hard, his breath forcefully knocked out of his lungs. Pain spiked in his ribs and head as they connected with the solid concrete floor.

Cain had returned to his feet, but Charles barely saw him as a pair of feet stepped in front of him. He slowly looked up, his heart ripping in two as his gaze rested on his best friend's once familiar face.

It was all too painfully clear now that Erik was no longer Erik. His grey-green eyes, once full of intelligence, affection, and most of the time, exasperation, were now almost fully gray, cold, and blank. The sharp planes of his face were like stone, hard and emotionless.

Charles' voice was a whisper. He knew what was going to happen, and he longed to be wrong.

"Erik, please."

The metal bender crouched down beside the telepath, and for the briefest of moments, Charles thought maybe Erik wasn't completely gone.

But then two strong hands were wrapping around his throat, slowly and painfully crushing down.

Don't do this, Erik!

The force of Charles' mental shout was weakened by the lack of oxygen, but it was enough to give the taller man pause.

Cain wasn't having any of that.

"Kill him."

There was enough telepathic influence in those two words to make a small army do his bidding.

Erik didn't even move.

Charles reached out tentatively, gasping for breath.

Please, Erik. You have to remember who you are.

Images of all the time they had spent together, from their first meeting in the waters of Miami, all the way through their goodbye only a few hours prior, flew through Charles' weak mental link.

Cain put up a miraculous fight, forcing memories he had created into Erik's mind.

The metal bender's confusion grew as he fought against both what Charles was telling him and what Cain was trying to order him to do.

Erik. You are no man's puppet.

The pressure on Charles' throat lessened slightly, and then disappeared entirely as Erik let go, looking torn.

It was the sign Charles hadn't been letting himself hope for.

Charles didn't give Erik a chance to recover.

Now, Onslaught!

The sound of Cain's screams filled Charles' ears as his darker half took on an astral form and launched a terrible attack. The telepath barely saw any of it as he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. Pain roared in his chest and head, threatening to send him to blackness.

He ignored it, grabbing Erik by the arm and starting to tow him to the entrance. Charles knew there was only a brief window of opportunity here before whatever Cain had inflicted returned and Erik was once more lost to him, perhaps forever.

A huge wooden beam crashed to the ground a few yards in front of them as the support structures of the building began to fail under the heat of the flames.

The force of the fall was enough to send Charles and Erik sprawling to the ground.

Swearing as the pain in Charles' ribs renewed its attack on his senses, he army crawled his way over to Erik, trying and failing at avoiding small patches of burning wood along the way. The metal bender was still conscious and in the process of standing up.

Charles pushed himself painfully to his feet as well, coughing as the smoke attacked his lungs.

Behind them, Cain's screams grew in intensity.

Charles didn't dare look into Onslaught's mind, fearing what he would find there. A small part of him felt immensely guilty for what was happening, but a look at Erik—who still remained only a ghost of his former self—was enough to quell any of that.

They were trapped, Charles realized. The burning beam had created a wall of flames, and the only clear way was the way they had come.

Charles had forgotten that he hadn't come alone.

There was a growl loud enough to be heard over the flames, followed by a nearby wall suddenly collapsing.

The flames doubled in size, fueled by the rush of oxygen brought in by the wall collapsing.

Charles stared dumbly at the collapsed wall, not entirely certain if the image of Hank shouting and motioning for him to come toward him was real or not.

The pressure of Erik's hand on his arm startled Charles into movement and together, they stumbled toward the exit.

They barely made it, collapsing into the cold, wet grass just as the flames engulfed the exit.

Behind them, Cain's screams continued to grow. Hank was nearby, demanding in a frantic, high pitched voice that didn't suit him if they were okay.

It was raining, too, and thunder and lightning were streaking across the sky.

Charles barely noticed any of it, for Erik's face was starting to morph into the cold, unrecognizable stranger's one.

As the smoke damage to his lungs and the pain in his chest and head started to make the world go black, Charles smashed his fingers against Erik's temples and dived into his mind.

He would be damned if he lost his best friend.

The world turned sharply to black.