Sorry, took some time ^^"
Well, I thank you both for the reviews again :)

I hope this chappy isn't too ...clumsy? xD
I will try to update as fast as possible, but I really can't promise anything since I have such a troublesome time, and there is still the other cherik-story that I haven't updated for almost three weeks now (damn!) and then my granny will visit us from 23 till 27 and and and!
But, don't worry, I will update ! ( as fast as I can! Which would be in one week...maybe one and a half..or two..O_o)

"If you could turn back time ... Would you do it?"

"...I don't know."

And I still don't know.
So many bad things have happened. So many things could have been prevented.
But...Would I dare?
Maybe everything would be even worse?
But, maybe...maybe it would be even better...

I don't know.
But I know that I would change a lot of things.

However...The mere thought that it would, or could, mean that I would never meet -would have never met- Charles makes me sad.
I think I wouldn't want that.

The past is the past, I fear, and sadly we can't change it, no matter how desperately we wish we could.
We all have to live in the present.
Better we make the best of it.

After all we have just one life to live ...

Chapter 9

He sat there with his elbows propped onto his knees, his chin resting on his folded hands while he was staring at the TV screen. He could barely hear what they were saying, but he knew it was about the war. He knew it was about mutants.

Stryker looked so serious, his cold eyes full of hate, his posture stiff.

"I told you!" Stryker said, his voice stern as if to scold the viewers and listeners. "I told you that they want to kill us! NOW you have the proof! They will try to kill us. They won't hesitate, but WE won't hesitate either!"

He said a lot of more things, but Erik could not bring himself to listen to this man. It was hard enough to watch those two men, standing there and talking shit about mutants. Maybe, Erik thought, his inner voice ruefully, maybe I shouldn't have said anything about a war.

Was it his fault, that the humans were even more angry? Maybe he had made it worse. Yes, of course he had made it worse; war was horrible and worse than their current situation, but...

But, what should I have done otherwise? I need to save my kind, I can't just...sit and watch..

Erik clenched his jaw, his lips firmly pressed together as he stared at the screen. The other man began to speak, his voice was smooth and low, his eyes evil. Erik had the feeling that he knew that man, that he had seen him somewhere else, but...he could not remember where.

Probably just another politican...

"I nearly got killed by a mutant." The man stood tall and straight. He was at least one head taller than Stryker, and half as old. His voice was casual as he spoke, casual but with a hint of strong dislike; no, not even dislike, more...blazing hatred.. "I survived the attack, with a lot of luck, but my friends..did not survive."

The man cleared his throat. Erik knew the man was not sad about the death of his followers; there was no hint of sadness in his expression, nor in his voice. All Erik could see was hatered, and loathing...

Everywhere..

Hostility, bias...

Humans, his mind snorted.

But, wasn't it his own fault as well, that the hate was even stronger now? He might represent a kind of saviour for the mutant kind but for the humans he was the pure evil..

A terrorist..

He swallow hard; never ever he would have thought that he would become a terrorist - or anything close to it.

"Now is the time to act! Now is the time to stop them! Magneto-" Stryker nearly spat that name. Erik wondered if he knew that it was him, Erik Lehnsherr, because that would explain why Stryker was staring at the camera as if Erik was right in front of him, as if he KNEW him. Somehow it made Erik feel uncomfortable. Though, nah; Stryker was an old bastard, he wouldn't remember him. "I know that you are watching this, because you want to know what WE are going to do. " Stryker narrowed his eyes, his index-finger pointing at the camera. "WE will fight you! There is no way out of this for you. You will die, as well as the rest of your 'race'."

"God be with us."

Yes, Erik thought dryly while his fingers were digging into the back of his hands, yes, god be with you. Pray for your stupid lifes...

Sick. It made him sick, because it was reminding him of the camps. The war...The horror...It would not end like this again, never...Never again.

No camps, no burned bodies, no screaming children, no torn families, no fear of losing everything, no smoke and ashes in the air, never again, never like this.

Nie wieder, he had promised himself, Nie wieder wird so etwas passieren.

He hadn't been able to save his family.

He hadn't been able to save his friends.

He hadn't been able to save Charles...

He would make it better; he would save them, his kind.

This...This time I will save them. I can do it...I just...need to pull myself together..

There never was an end, wasn't it? The circle of hate, rage and war would continue.

No one could break it.

There was a gasp.

Erik turned his head around, his brow furrowed because he hadn't heard anyone entering the room. His heart dropped as he saw who it was.

Charles.

Charles, sitting in his wheelchair, a sketchblook on his lap and his blue blue eyes wide as he stared at the TV. He was pale, more than pale; he looked like a ghost. The eyes of the younger man were filled with panic, horror, and his lower lip was trembling while the fingers of his left hand were grabbing the arm of the wheelchair in a tight grip.

He was trembling all over.

"Charles?" Erik asked, slowly, carefully. Charles was more than afraid, there was utter panic in his gaze, utter pain in every fibre of his being. And still he was staring at the screen, staring and staring while he ignored Erik. His breathing became frantic.

A panic attack?

Erik stood up, his legs were shaky but he had no clue why; and then it hit him, the wave of emotions, strong like the hit of a wave against a rock.

Painfearself-loathingdespair...PanicPANICPANIC!

Erik stumbled forward, hitting the edge of the glass-topped coffee table with the knee of his right leg. His head was spinning and he felt a nausea approaching. Too many emotions...

"Charles." He groaned, trying to walk a straight line, which was more difficult than he had thought. God, his head did hurt! His whole body did hurt! He could not bear it!

NOTAGAIN!

And then there was a bang, something shattered. Erik's head jerked up, his eyes widening as he realized that one of the bookshelves had been thrown out of the window, the glass shattering and flying through the air. NO, not flying, hovering!

A new wave of raw emotions hit him and he stumbled backwards, stumbling over something, then he fell to the ground; all the air was knocked out of his lungs, his nose was bleeding, but he was barely aware of it.

Erik's eyes turned back to Charles, and he could not suppress the shiver that went down his spine at the sight of his telepath; Charles seemed to glow, soft silvery blue light radiating around his small form, his blue eyes even bluer while the pupils were small and almost gone. He seemed so lost, not aware what he was doing, his pale red lips parted for a silent scream.

It was a scary sight.

Stop, stopstopstopstop!

"Charles!" Erik managed to get up to his feet, his whole body shivering and wobbling while he grasped the backrest of the armchair for the support of his own weight. He was crying, Charles, he was crying, Erik could see it now. The tears were crystal clear and running down his pale cheeks like raindrops against a window.

He was so pale.

It sucked him up, the emotions, the feelings, the memories, they sucked him up, leaving him in a mess, both of them, tangled, and everything was blurry.

Blood, so much blood, everywhere, it was so dark, cold, it was cold, his body did hurt, he could taste blood in his mouth, no air, no air, he could not breathe, hands everywhere-

Erik could no longer tell which feelings were his own and which belonged to Charles.

Afraid, he was so afraid, oh oh, someone kicking his ribs, crying, he was crying, trembling, screaming, nonono, what was going on?

Everything was a blur, his head was a mess, the outlines of the room began to fade into darkness, into the darkness of the alley, but then he was back in the living room, and the sunlight was so bright and mockingly.

GOD, make it STOP! Not again, never, not, not again!

Gasping, squirming, trying to break free, hands on his hips, they would leave bruises, and he was laughing, laughing, he could hear him laughing, his nose was bleeding, his head, his head, his hands scraping over skin, a mess, everything was a mess, he could smell blood and sweat and it was so cold, the cold air like a knife against his nacked skin, breathe, breathe, breathe in and out...

I... am a-afraid...

Erik's voice was screaming inside his head, not Charles' - never Charles'. Charles was quiet.

It was so real...

Someone forcing himself between his legs, gagging him, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him, his head hit the cold wall, making him dizzy, his eyelids fluttered, headache, he was not crying, nonono, he was not, not real, this was not real, not real!

This h-hasn't happened, dream dream, n-nightmare, g-go away, leave, leave me alone! P-Please...please...

Erik tried to struggle free of the tangles of thoughts and emotions, but it was so difficult! He would drown,drown in the memories, dark memories which were consuming him, haunting him, Charles, Erik, them all, Erik was not sure.

Erik brushed them away, the tendrils which stuck to him, silvery blue threads of light which had wrapped themselves around his mind, crushing it, destroying it, pulling him deeper and deeper into the darkness...

Stop!

Erik gasped for air as he stumbled towards Charles, whose lips had begun to turn blue; he was not breathing anymore. The panic must have crushed his lungs.

"Charles!"

Erik ducked away as a flying dictionary nearly smashed his head. A lot of loose things were hovering in the air now, surrounded by a bluish shimmer; pencils, paper, books, even the sofa was hovering mere inches above the wooden floor. Erik was glad that he himself wasn't flying through the room, though that wasn't his biggest concern right now.

Something shattered, a thud, wood was creaking, the glass table hit the wall, something clanged to the floor. The TV flickered, the screen turned off and on until the TV fuse popped out, the glass of the screen shattering.

"Charles!" Erik had managed to reach Charles' side; the telepath's eyes fluttered, he was struggling to breathe, his body trembling with a spasm. His left hand was clutching the arm of his wheelchair in a desperate grip, his knuckle were white and his fingers stiff. "Charles, calm down Charles, everything is alright, shhh,shhhh..." Erik whispered, reaching up with his right hand to stroke over the pale and tearstained cheek. He was still crying, the tears hot and wet on Erik's fingers. "Breathe, Charles, keep breathing, calm down, you are safe.."

But Charles did not breathe, he just sat there and gazed into space, his lips parted and blue, his skin white and hot with panic. And now Erik was afraid, yes, he was afraid, because suddenly he feared that Charles would suffocate.

"Charles, beruhige dich, beruhige dich!" Erik leaned forward, his thumbs brushing away the tears. "Ganz ruhig, alles ist gut, shhhh...Ich bin doch da.." Calm down, Calm down Charles, everything is alright, everything is okay, I am here with you...

You are not alone...I am with you

The lights flickered while the curtains were wafting without a trace of wind and the doors of the shelves opened and closed with a loud banging.

It felt so weird...to...to be the one who cared. Erik had never been good in caring for others; he had cared about his family, about his parents and his sister, but he had only cared about himself after they had died.

Then he had begun to care about Charles, who in return had cared about Erik, and that had been utterly new for Erik because no one had actually cared for him. How could have anyone cared if he had been alone all the time?

He had been a loner, was still one, and would stay a loner.

That was his plan, had been his plan.

Now...Now he cared, more than before, about Charles, because Charles needed someone who cared about him.

Especially now.

But Charles was so far away again, lost in the darkness of his memories, lost in a flashback, far far away... He could not hear Erik and Erik could not help him if he did not listen.

"Charles..." he whispered, not able to suppress the sadness in his voice. God...This all...It made him so sad all over again, made his heart ache with sorrow and regret.

And then, always again, he wished he could have helped him, wished he would have been there, even if his inner voice told him over and over again that it was the past, that it was over, that Erik could not change it no matter how desperatly he wished he could..

"Shhh..." His hand wandered upwards to pet Charles' wavy hair, which was sticky with sweat. "Shhh..." The metal-bender leaned forward as he crouched in front of the wheelchair, his forhead resting against Charles'. "Breathe, Charles, breathe..."

It was still there, the tangle of emotions, the darkness behind the vision of Erik, the fear, the panic, the sadness...But it was faint, like a second layer behind his eyes, a layer of translucent paper, fading...

Charles was trembling, trying to breathe properly, trying to come back to the real world, but Erik was sure that he was lost, lost in the darkness of the event, lost in his memories... His pulse was weak, not as wild as it had been before. The lack of air, Erik thought, panicking again , the lack of air!

He stumbled to his feet again, leaning down to lift Charles out of the Wheelchair into his arms. The eyelids of the telepath fluttered heavily, his blue eyes glassy. "HANK!" Erik called, his voice shaky as he pressed Charles against his chest. "HANK!"

Charles had stilled in his arms. He was not crying anymore. Actually, he wasn't doing anything anymore.

The hovering things in the living room fell back to the ground, the bluish gleam around Charles was fading, as well as the shimmer around the objects.

Erik's heart began to speed up, his breath quickend as he ran down the hallway, screaming and screaming for Hank to help him, to help Charles.

The Blood from his nose was running over his lips and down his chin, dripping onto Charles' forehead. The blood was too red against the deathly pale skin.

Charles was not breathing. His pulse was fading.

Erik was sure had never been more afraid.

...

"He is not breathing, he is not breathing! Hank you have to help him!"

Erik stared down on the pale face, his lips a firm line and his posture stiff. His hands were clasped and his shoulders hunched. The sunlight through the window was a dim gold, the sun was setting already.

Charles was awake, his blue eyes half-lidded and glassy. His breath was shallow. "He has a fever." Hank had said. "He needs some rest now."

Erik took a deep breath as he ran a hand through his ruffled hair. Everything is alright, he told himself because his heart was still pounding wildly in his chest. He's okay now..

God, he had been so afraid. The mere thought of losing Charles...

"What happened?" Erik had asked as he stared down on Charles' unconscious body. "What happened, why did he panic?"

Hank had sighed, running a blue paw over his face as he sat down. "Something must have reminded him. Maybe a voice, maybe the appearance of a man...It has caused a panic attack. But he should be alright now. We need to be careful though. Such a panic attack is really exhausting for a body, and Charles is still not fully recovered."

"Of course." Erik had whispered, guilt gnawing at his guts. He should have been more careful...If Charles hadn't seen the news then he wouldn't have panicked and then...

"Just be more careful." Hank had smiled tiredly, putting a paw on Erik's shoulder. "And don't worry too much. He will be alright again." He kept saying that, that Charles would be alright, but Erik began to doubt it; Charles was so fragile, so vulnerable, and technically everything could possibly lead to a breakdown...If they would only know what was going on inside his head, what he was thinking...

Erik let out a heavy sigh as he leaned forward to brush away a strand of wavy brown hair which stuck to Charles' sweaty forehead; Charles blinked, his chest raising and falling slowly. Erik smiled, tried to smile.

"His powers...I think they were out of control as he had the panic attack."

Hank had looked up, his eyebrow were raised. "Yeah...I have expected something like this."

"But-" Erik had begun as he sat down on the next best chair. "It was different this time. There was...A gleam around him. He was glowing in a blue light."

Hank had tilted his head and had furrowed his brow. "A shimmer, you say?"

Erik had nodded.

"Well, that's new...The power of telekinesis is invisible, there shouldn't be any light or gleam..."

Erik had watched the boy as he walked to the window. He had seemed very serious. "Do you know what it means?"

Hank had nodded slowly. "I have a theory, but I am not quite sure."

"Meow!"

Erik looked up to see the cat staring at him; it was curled up next to Charles' feet, its green eyes was always staring at him, this cat, staring with such reproachful eyes. As if to protect Charles...

"I am sorry." Erik said, his voice low. He wasn't even sure for what exactly he was sorry for, neither to whom he had said these words; maybe to Charles, maybe to the cat. If it just would stop to stare at him...

Charles took a shaky breath, his left hand reaching upwards to slid over Erik's right hand, which lay on the red duvet cover; his blue eyes were still glassy due the fever, and Erik was sure that Charles was not aware of what he was doing. Has to be a febrile delirium...Otherwise he would not touch me.

The cat meowed.

Charles was still so pale, so ill-looking, and his frame so so small in the big bed. Erik was not sure if Charles had always looked so fragile and small.

Those big blue eyes watched him tiredly.

He is always so tired, Erik thought as he clasped their hands. Always so exhausted...Charles' hand was hot, his long fingers digging into the back of Erik's hand.

Was he still afraid?

What did he see?

Where was he?

The cat meowed again, a long and wailing meow.

Erik took a deep breathe, trying to steady his breathing, then he smiled down on Charles who eyed him with his weary, glassy eyes. His lower lip was trembling.

"My My...What a day, hm?" Erik chuckled quietly, his hand squeezing Charles' slightly. Charles took a slow and shallow breath through his parted lips; at least there was a bit color in them now. "You should rest now. I...think that will help you."

Idiot! His mind yelled, Nightmares! They will come and haunt him! No...No, they would not. Erik would ask Hank to give him sleeping pills.

"Please Charles...Never...Never do that again." And he knew his voice was broken and raspy. He didn't only look like a wreck, he felt like one as well.

Charles blinked, taking another shallow breath.

Of course Charles could not control his panic attacks, it was not his fault, but Erik had been so afraid...

The cat meowed again and a paw hit Erik's hand; the claws left bloody scratches on the back of his hand, causing Erik to hiss and glare at the cat. It stared back with its green eyes. Erik was sure it was snarling.

Charles sighed, his left hand came up to scratch the cat behind its ear. The cat purred happily, all the while staring at Erik.

Charles was watching the cat now, his chest rising and falling slowly with every breath. The circles under his eyes were dark, his hair was tousled and his cheeks red with the fever. His hand was trembling.

"The fever should wear off soon. His body is probably just overreacting."

Erik stayed in the room until Hank came. After that he left the room quietly while Hank was talking to Charles, his voice calm. Encouragingly...

It was like talking to a frightened child.

The corridor was dim lit, the windows open. A soft breeze was blowing the curtains. The air was warm. Soon it would be summer.

Erik had his hands in the pockets of his pants as he walked to his room. He was nearly in front of his door as Raven's door opened. The blue-skinned girl looked at him, sorrow and self-blame in her yellow eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness, those eyes...

"How is he?" she asked, her voice low, full of concern.

"He will be alright." Erik answered, his voice steady. "Hank said the fever will wear off soon."

Raven nodded, relief in her face. "Okay..." she breated, but lowered her head. "It is my fault...I...I was hungry and left him alone...I though he would go outside...I am sorry."

Erik was not sure if he should be angry at her, or if he should pity her. Of course it was her fault, but she was blaming herself enough already. "It was stupid." He admitted, his voice calm but not cold. "It was a mistake that everyone of us could have made. Don't blame yourself too much. He will be alright." He added the last words with a small smile.

"I just hope he gets better." Raven answered quietly, her head still bowed. The poor girl. It must be hard for her.

Though,it was hard for all of them.

"Don't worry too much, Mystique." Raven looked up as he used her real name, her mutant name. "I will do everything in my power to help him."

She looked at him, her face unreadable, but eventually her lips turned into a small smile. "I know. And I believe in you, Erik."

Erik smiled, but this time his smile was a tone darker. "It's Magneto." She said nothing, just nodded. She seemed to understand.

They both went into their rooms after that.

Erik stood there, in his room. The grayish light from outside was barely enough to illuminate it; the dark wood of the walls and the dark carpet were to blame.

The helmet on the nightstand was reflecting the dim light of the setting sun.

He needed to know what was going on inside Charles' head.

He needed to know what he was thinking, what he was seeing.

Charles wouldn't cooperate, he was too frightened, too stubborn, too childlike.

A childlike mind...

Therefore he would need someone else to help him.

Another telepath.

And he was sure he already knew where he would find one.

Normally he would never even consider it; normally he would respect Charles' privacy just like Charles respected his, but this time it was different. This time it was under different circumstances.

Erik's mouth turned into a grim line as he walked to the bedside table and took the helmet in his hands. The metal was cold and smooth under his fingers.

The hellfire club is calling.