Thanks for the reviews :)

I used some phrases from the x-Men comic ' God loves, man kills' for what Charles, Creed and Stryker say at some points. You should read that comic, it is really good , the base for X-movie 2 ,and important for the mutant-human conflict.

Warning: violence at the end of the chapter! Mentioning of rape (not graphic, though!)

Thank you for the waiting. I had some stuff to do, and as I told you, my updates might take some time ^^ Next update, next week.

Humans are weak.

They are right to fear us.

I will have no mercy with them, because they will always make the same mistakes.

They have chosen their path on their own.

Chapter 1

April 1963

It was several month after the fight on Cuba.

There was no worry about war anymore, at least not officially. Much more present was the new problem; mutants. Every day they heared the politics discussing their point of view about this topic, trying to find a solution for their new problem. Enemies or friends? A new war, or none?

The public had been more than shocked, but wasn't that understandable? What else would you expect?

What would you do if your goverment tells you that there is something supernatural among you? How would you react, what would you think, whom would you believe and whom trust? It was a chaos out there, and the public was so easily to manipulate..

The hate, the disgust and the fear were stronger than the curiosity. There was something inhuman? Surely it was bad and evil. Something or someone with powers? Surely they would use them against the humans. A new race above the humans? Surely it meant that the humans would become extinct. They were too navie to take a closer look under the surface.

Not everything inhuman was evil, not everyone with powers was power-hungry or evil as Shaw had been. The Cuba missile crisis was now the fault of all mutants, just because Shaw had been one. The public should have never known of the mutants. There were not ready yet, and they would probably never be. They didn't even try to understand..

Of course, not all humans were like that, but it was just a matter of time until everything would be upside down. There was just one option; humans, or mutants. They could not live together or among each other. They were too different. Erik knew this, but Charles was closing his eyes to this fakt; Charles would not give up on his hope of a world were mutants and humans would live together. He was so naive...

He talked to them, to the politics and those high-level officials and in front of the cameras, playing the role of the mediator, the charming mutant with a heart for humans and a strong believe in peace.

But the anti-mutant party had strong members as well; members with charisma, people who could easily infect others with their hate. Graydon Creed and William Stryker were just two of them.

It was another day where Charles would go for a talk with the politicians. Erik was not really happy to let Charles go again, but this time this meating wasn't too far away, somewhere near their mansion, and Charles seemed positive about the whole thing.

"Don't worry, Erik." he had said "I will contact you when the talk is over." Charles always talked to him after his conversations with the politicians, to tell Erik news he had received.

"Be careful, lab rat." Erik had muttered "You can never tell what the humans are planning." But Charles had just waved off, laughing "You are too wary, Erik. You are too wary.."

Yes, Erik had been too wary.

And he had been right.

Now he wished he would have stopped him...

"Mutants are not a big group,possessing one set of attitudes or goals. we are individuals - as are we all - and should be judged as such."

"And, why should we believe you?" Creed snarled, his eyes on Charles, who stood on the podium behind the lectern, in the circular hall of an university. "This whole mutant thing, how can you assure us that no human will be harmed? How can you assure us that you freaks are not going to kill us with your 'superpowers?'" A murmur went through the crowd,several men nodding in agreement. "You individuals possess some pretty terrifying powers. How are we common folk to defend us against you?"

Charles pressed his hand on the lectern, his gaze on Creed. The blonde politican was one of the men who was the hardest to convince. He was so consumed by his hatred that he ignored everyone who tried to change his point of view. Charles took a deep breath as he answered with a kind and gentle smile "Of course I can not speak for all of our kind, but I can assure you; no one wants a war. I am sure we all want to live together in peace and-"

"Peace?" a man in a black suit asked. "What about the revolts? What about all those mutants on the streets who could easily rob us? Or kill us? What about those who hate us humans?"

More whispers of approval.

Charles cleared his throat, trying to stay calm and professional "The hate is understandable, as well as your distrust. We are a new and different kind; differences and disagreements are inevitable." he made a short pause. "But I am sure that we all can manage to live and work together, without distrust and fear and-"

"Inacceptable!" Creed shouted, standing up and pointing at Charles , whose gaze turned back to the blond politican. "Mutants are and will stay a danger to the normal public! They are living nuclear wepaons!" Nodding and several shouts of agreement. "The ever increasing number of mutants poses a clear and present danger! Is it even fair to call mutants 'human'? I thought you call your kind 'homo superior' , which leads to a different species all together!"

Charles mentally sighed; they did not listen to him. They didn't even try to understand him. "That's not completly true!" he began "We are human too. We have the same basics as you, there are just some small differences-"

Creed cut him off, not caring for what Charles wanted to say "That is why I want a registration for every mutant! And that is why I want the dangerous ones to be locked away, or no, wait! All should be locked up! "

Clapping.

Creed sat down again,a sneer on his lips.

Charles looked at those faces in front of him, at all those humans who didn't even try to understand what he wanted to tell them. They didn't believe in a future with mutants. They wanted to have the world for themselves; there was no more space for another race. Charles pressed a hand against his forehead as a headache began to come up. Too many thoughts, hateful ones, and so many different emotions hammering against his mental shields. So much hate and disgust, it made Charles sick.

"Please, gentlemen!" Charles leaned forward, his blue eyes directed at the men in front of him. "I know that this topic is difficult to handle, but if you could listen to me for some minutes-"

"Are you trying to manipulate us, Xavier?" Stryker shouted from one of the higher rows. "As far as I remember you are able to do that, am I wrong?" the eyes of the old man narrowed and a contemptuous smile crossed his lips "Or was it 'just' telepathy?"

The politicians were upset now; Charles could feel their mistrust getting stronger and their hate and fear rose higher and higher.

"A telepath?" Creed shouted in disbelief "That's totally inacceptable! Someone like you shouldn't be allowed to walk in public!" He turned to his colleagues "What if he uses his powers to control us! Who can say that he won't take our free will! Who can tell how many other telepaths are out there to control us humans?"

Charles pressed his lips together, knowing that he had lost his fight today. They would not listen to him anymore, no; in fact their distrust had grown. Creed and Stryker had them in their hands; they could manipulate human minds better than Charles could ever do without his powers. Stryker was playing to the audience. He always came across as such a nice, personable guy. The humans loved him.

The blue eyes telepath sighed as he tried one more pathetic attempt to speak up, but no one was listening to him "Please, gentlemen! I know that my powers might scare you, but I would never use them against anyone without their premission! I-"

"You say that!" Stryker cut him off as he stood up "But who tells us that all the other telepaths will do the same?" he slammed his fist on the small table in front of him "And who tells us that you are telling the truth?"

It was a total chaos then. No one listent to him anymore, they screamed at him, pointing at him, calling him and the others freaks. At the end, Charles felt totally tired and down. He knew that not all humans were like this, but it hurt him to see and feel so much hate. Sometimes he asked himself if Erik was right...

It was late at night now and dark outside as he left the building. He was on the way to his care, lost in his thoughts about mutants and humans. Why couldn't they just live together, without any hate and fear?

They were the same; there was just a gene that differed them from the humans! Charles could understand the fear they had, but he wished they would try to see things from the view of the mutants. He wished they would see that they were no danger to them..

He put his hands in the pockets of his beige-colored coat and took a deep breath of cool air. His head was better now, and the fresh air helped him to clear his mind and calm him down. He was just about to cross the street as he suddenly heard a small cry. He stopped, took a deep breath and listened. First he just heard some cars in the distance, but then he could make out some voices which seemed to come from a side alley.

Hastily he walked towards the alley, his powers outstreched. There; he could feel the minds of several men, six, and two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The teenagers were scared, the men seemed to be...angry? A robbery? Charles turned around the corner and stopped.

The men stood around the teenager, two of them with knives in their hands. They looked as if they had fun, smug grins on their faces, laughing at the frightened teenagers. A girl with brown hair clutched the left arm of a white-haired boy, here wide eyes staring at the men around them. They looked like normal teenager, wearing modern clothes. It seemed that they had been on the way to a party. Charles had to look twice until he noticed that the teenage boy had slightly blue skin and white eyes; a mutant. That was the reason for the anger of the men..

"Ya mutie!" one of the men spat. He had normal clothes on and looked like a normal citizen, like one of those too normal men whom you would never expect to harm anyone. No one except for mutants..

"Leave him alone!" the girl cried "Please, he has done nothing wrong!" A big , bald man grabbed the girl and yanked her away from the boy. "He is a freak!" he snarled with a deep voice.

Charles knew that he had to do something. He could feel the hate of those men, ,pounding in his head like steady impulse. Their hate was directed at the boy! At a boy! He was just a child, but all they could think of was that he was a mutant.

Why did they hate them so much?

Was it just the fear, or were their also jealous?

Charles tried to understand them, but he could not. It was simple incomprehensible to him.

No one should harm another being just because it does exist.

The girl cried out as the man tightened his grip, and Charles took several more steps forward "Hey!" he shouted, pointing at the man who held the girl "Let them go, all of you! You have no right to hurt them!"

The men stared at him, then they began to laugh. "Says who?" the blond one asked. His voice was too high for a man. "He's a fuckin' mutie, for god's sake! It is better to get rid of them!"

"He is just a boy!" Charles eyes flashed with anger "Do you honestly want to kill an innocent child!" The bald man let go of the girl and was about to beat Charles down, but Charles dodged the blow because he had known what the man was about to do; a quick glance in the man's mind had been enough. The man hissed in surprise "You're one of them as well!"

Charles took the moment of surprise as he called the mind of the teenagers "Don't worry." he calmed them "Everything will be alright." The kids stared at him with wide eyes, too scared to mentally answer him.

The telepath narrowed his eyes as he answered "That's true. And I would be able to force you to let them go, but I won't. I want to give you the chance to let them go by your own choice."

The other men stared at him as well, unbelievingly, then they began to laugh again.

"Hey, I know you." a gray-eyed man said, pointing with his knive at Charles. He was at least one and a half head taller than Charles. "You are the TV-mutie guy, right? What was your name..Xi...Xu...Xavier!" The other men mumbled now, clearly impressed. "I heard of you! You are one of the most fuckin' freaks of all!"

Charles pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowed. "That's right." he answered his voice calm and steady, but in truth he felt sick and nervous. Of course, he had his powers; he could stop them any time he wanted, but he wouldn't. The men deserved the chance do the right thing on their own.
He should not force him.

Though, it was like a stab through his heart. Most fucking freak.. As if his gift was something evil, as if he was something bad..

Why were they so full of hate? What caused this hate? Was it simply fear, or arrogance? Did they want to show that humans were, still, the strongest species, stronger than mutants?

What was their reason to attack mutants, even young ones?

A simple glance into their minds would tell Charles everything, but he refused to take a look. He told himself it was because he accepted their privacy, but deep down he knew that it was because he feared what he would find in their minds. He didn't want to lose his illusion of the good men. Maybe he was naive, but he held on on his belief. Maybe the truth was that humans and mutants would never accept each other, but Charles refused to give up his hope so easily. The reality was too painful to let go of the illusion he made.

"I beg you..." Charles said, carefully and his voice serious "Please don't make the wrong choice. You can be one of the better men, just don't hurt anyone. Hate and pain will lead to nothing.." he trailed off, his too blue eyes staring right into the dark ones of the human.

The man turned back to the teenager, who clutched each other tightly, shivering with fear. "Okay, good." the bald man said, slowly "We will let them go." the man turned around to his friends and nodded towards the boy." Let the freak go."

"What?" the blonde man hissed "But,I thought we-"

"Let the kids go." the bald man repeated, his voice stern. The other men stood there for several more minutes, clearly not agreeing with their boss, then they stepped aside.

The teenager still shivered with fear as they grabbed each others hand and ran past Charles, giving him a thankful glance. "Thank you, mister!" Charles could hear the boy say, then they disappeard behind the corner. Charles heart grew lighter; the kids were safe. The men had made the right choice. Maybe they weren't as bad as they had appeared.

He turned back to the men, about to thank them for making the right choice, as a fist hit his chin. He stumbeld backwards, feeling dizzy.

After that, everything happened too fast. Charles could not tell how it happened, and why he hadn't used his powers. Maybe he was too shocked,or maybe it was because of the blows to his head. Yes, it must have been because of something like this...

"You think you can tell us what to do?" the bald man asked with his deep voice, pushing Charles to the wet ground. It had rained one or two hours ago. Charles tried to sit up, ready to use his powers and freeze the men as a boot met his stomach, sending him back to the floor. He groaned in pain, clutching his stomach. Steel cap shoes...

He was yanked upwards by his hair and he hissed in pain as the hand tightened around the strands of brown hair. "We've let the freak go, because you've asked us to. But now we need another mutie!" Laughter.

Charles looked up at the grinning faces "This is wro-" he started, but then his head was slammed against the nearest wall. He gasped, his vision blurring. The hand in his hair let go of him, and he fell to the ground again.

"Well,guys.." the leader said with a dark grin on his face "He's all yours."

And then it began. He could not tell how many boots kicked him, or how many fists hit down on him. All he was aware of was pain. Pain,everywhere.

Why?, he asked himself over and over again. Why are they doing this? Is their hate and scorn so great? He felt like they didn't only break his body and bones, but also his heart and his hopes, shattering them to pieces.

He felt his ribs crack and break under the pressure of the boots, causing him to cry out loud, and one of the blows broke his nose. Blood ran freely down his mouth and chin as he gasped for air. His right eye was swollen after mere minutes.

He coughed, trying to get air,trying to stop the men, but he was too weak. He was pathetic without being able to use his powers... If he had trained his body..But no, he had been to lost in his studies about powers and mutants, there had been no time to train his body strength. But,he would not give up so easily! He grabbed one arm while he lashed out with his free hand, his legs kicking wildly and desperatly. The fear began to crush his throat, and it began to get harder and harder to get air into his lungs. Every breath sent a wave of pain through his beaten body, and the broken rips began to pierce his lungs. It did hurt. A lot. It took him all his will-power and self-control not to cry. But he couldn't stop the small cries of pain that left his mouth.

"Hey, hold this fuckin' freak down!" one man cried, as Charles managed to kick him with one of his feet. A gleam of satisfaction went through Charles as he heard the pained voice of the man, but this gleam was soon supressed by a new wave of pain.

They began to hold his arms and legs down, so that he had no chance to lash out. His mind was dizzy, blurry, he was not able to focus on any of their minds.

He came to one conclusion; this men were evil. He had to defend himself, else they would kill him without hesitation.

He reached out with his blurry mind, his powers clumsy and unfocused, grabbing hold on the next best mind he could get "Let me go!" he demanded. The man who held down his right hand let go of him and stepped aside. "What are you doin', Brain!" the black-haired man to Charles' right side screamed, then his gaze went down on Charles, who gave him a weak smirk. "This fuckin' mutie scum was in my head!" the man screamed, holding his head as if he was afraid to lose it.

Now that Charles' hand was free he balled it into a fist and hit the man to his left ito the face. The man stumbled back, hissing in pain. Charles tried to sit up, but was pushed down again, the air knocked out of his lungs and a painfull stab went through the skin above his right lung as one of his ribs tried to break through it.

"You fucker!" the blonde man walked up to Charles, his hand pressed on his bleeding nose.A powerful kick with the boot against Charles' head made Charles' vision swim and his head pounding in stabbing pain. His mind was blurry again, and he could not grab hold of any of their minds. It was as if a fog was over his mental vision..It made him afraid. He never had been in such a situation. Not even Kurt or Cain had ever made him feel so miserable. Their punches were nothing in compare with the raw violence of those men around him.

"Hold his arm down!" Charles' arm was held down while he desperately tried to struggle free. The blonde man gave him a disdainful glance, his eyes full of hate, as he lifted his boot above Charles' right hand. Charles pained cry echoed through the whole alley as the boot smashed his hand. He could feel the bones breaking under the pressure, and a sharp pain went from his hand up to his arm. "How dare you to put your dirty mutie fist into my face!"

God,it hurt!

Tears began to from in his eyes, but he swallowed them down. He would not give them the satisfaction to see him cry!

"You little rat!" the blonde man hissed, stepping around him. Charles struggled and struggled, trying to get his legs free to kick the man. Normally he never intended to hurt anyone, but this time it was different; this time he had to hurt them to get away alive. They would kill him, god, he felt their hate, oh god.. "You think you can hurt me, heh!" the blond man squeaked, stopping at the side of Charles' left leg. "I will hurt you, you fucker! I will break your bones till you're just a weeping mass!"

Charles pressed his lips together, trying not to sob. This could not be true, this must be a nightmare.."Why?" he coughed, new blood welling up and dripping down his mouth. He must have internal injuries, probably a rib piercing his lung.. "Why..ah...are you..doin..?"

"Because.." one of the men, the nobel looking one, said "...you shouldn't be allowed to live! You are freaks, abnormal freaks! You don't deserve to live! You are just freaks who try to kill us and our families, freaks who think they are better than we are!" he grabbed Charles' arme tightly, squeezing it painfully "You are arrogant bastards! Devils! God never meant mutants to be born!"

Those words...They did hurt even more than the punches and kicks. Charles' heart was beeding, bleeding, because he could not understand.. He simply could not understand why someone would think such things about mutants.

Has Erik been right?, he silently asked himself, as he looked up at the faces above him. He could barely see them in the dim light of the alley. Oh Erik...If he would be here..What would he do? Charles knew he was not weak, but at the moment he felt pathetic..At the moment he wished Erik would be there. But Erik would kill the humans..No, no, killing was no option! God, how could this happen? And..why? Charles felt like crying.

This was not fair.. He saw his dream crumble into pieces...

NO! No, this were just a few men, not all humans! This were just a few men full of hate against mutants.. Men that would probably kill him.

"Please.." he whispered, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth, forming a little puddle of blood on the ground. "Please, don't.. ah...do this..I-"

"Shut up, fucker!" someone to his right hissed. The blond man lifted his boot again, above Charles' shin, and Charles knew what would come next. "No!" he tried to sit up again,tried to reach out with his powers, but was held down against the ground. He tried to struggle free, but it was useless.

The boot crashed down and a horrible crack was heared. "AHHHhahaa!" Charles screamed at the top of his lungs, and this time one or two tears rolled down his face. "Hah,do you like it?" the man asked, and laughter was heared.

His mind was full of pain, his own pain, and he felt dazed. It did hurt so much..It hurt so much..He couldn't focus on their minds, he could not grasp them..Why? He was always in control,always.. Why not this time?..

Somone help me, he plead with a shiver, feeling more pathetic than he had ever felt. A part of him hated himself for being and acting so weak, the other part was simply too afraid to die.

He was just human in that case, after all.

The boot crashed down on his already broken leg, and Charles arched up against the hold of the men. "AHHHHHAA!" he screamed, his voice already slightly hoarse "S..Stop.." he whimpered, because he couldn't stop himself. He wished he was stronger, but he was not like Erik, he never had been..

"Erik.." he sobbed silently, not aware of doing so.

"Heh, did you hear that?" the black-haired man leaned down,poking Charles' side with his knife, causing him to squirm against their hold. "Did he say..'Erik?'" The men looked at each other, then they began to laugh out.

"Who's Erik, heh?" a man laughed out "I bet it his is fuickin' boyfriend!" They looked down on him, and he could not stop the tears that ran down his face, because it simply did hurt to much. He ached all over. Not only his body, but also his soul. "Look, he's not only a freak, he's also a fag!"

Words can hurt more than kicks and punches could ever do. Charles knew now why.

"Whoa, how disgusting!" Someone kicked Charles's side, but Charles was barely aware of it, being too dazed with the constant pain in his leg and hand and the stabbing pain of the broken rib against his lung.

"Let's give the fag what he wants!"

This was just about humiliation.

He couldn't quite remember what happened afterwards.

Later he would remember. He would remember their rough hands on his skin, he would remember their laughter, the hard thrust; he would remember everything.

But, not now.

Now he came back to awareness, his mind blank, his memories black. Maybe he had locked them away, unconsciously, to save himself, maybe it was the shock.

He sat there, and all he saw was the dark alley and the dead bodies of the men. He could not remeber what had happend.

Later he would.

Later he would remember that he hadn't been able to take it any longer, that he killed them with a mere thought and the pain he had felt, that he had told their brain to stop the function of breathing.

Yes,later he would remember a lot..

He felt numb. Inside and outside. He could barely feel the cold asphalt or the wind. He felt nothing. His mind was blank, empty, and all he could do was stare ahead. He could think of nothing.

He couldn't even think of how pathetic he should feel, or that he should hate them.

He couldn't even ask himself 'why?'. He couldn't even cry. He couldn't ask himself if he would ever be able to ever trust any humans again. He couldn't ask himself if he still believed in his own dream.

Later he would.

Later he would ask himself why this had happend, why they had done this, and why he hadn't been strong enough to stop them.

Charles sat there, for several more minutes, until he slowly stood up, pulling his trousers back up and smoothing his blood-stained shirt with his left hand, his right hand tightly pressed against his chest. Every movement did hurt, made him feel dizzy,sick and every breath was a pain. His shattered leg could barely hold his weight, and he swayed dangerously. He pressed his left hand against the wall for support, his stomach growling in protest, and he was close to throwing up.

He was under shock, a small voice in the back of his head told him. He still could not process what had happened to him.

Later he would.

Then he would have his mental breakdown.

But, not now.

Now all he could think of was that he wanted to go home.

A voice inside his head told him that he should probably search for a hospital, for any help, but this voice was small and his mind too blank to listen.

He wanted to go home.

God, all he wanted was to go home..