OMG I am so so so sorry! I should have updated long time ago but I kinda had a writers block and then I found new fandoms to be obsessed with and ...Omg, really, I am sorry! I hope this chapter is okay, it might be not as 'good' as the others but that's because I had to find my way back into the story and stuff. Sorry again! Uh,and I want to thank Minastauriel who wrote a review to the last chapter on archive. You're the reason why this chapter is here.

I love you all and thanks for sticking with the story!

O for a voice like thunder, and a tongue
To drown the throat of war!

When the senses
Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness

Who can stand? When the souls of the oppressed
Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand?

When the whirlwind of fury comes from the
Throne of God, when the frowns of his countenance
Drive the nations together, who can stand?

When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle,
And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death;

When souls are torn to everlasting fire,
And fiends of Hell rejoice upon the stain.

O who can stand? O who hath caused this?

O who can answer at the throne of God?

The Kings and Nobles of the Land have done it!

Hear it not, Heaven, thy Ministers have done it!
(Loreena McKennit, Lullaby

Chapter 14

It was raining. Still. All day. As if the sky was crying. But why would the sky cry about anything? The sky was free, bound to nothing more than the earth, so there was no need to cry.

The telepath didn't mind the crying sky, no; he was staring out of the window, deep deep in thoughts while the fingers of his left hand traced the pages of the book in his lap.

Months had gone by, it was July now, lovely July, but nothing was lovely at all.

Charles wasn't sure, but he could feel it; something was wrong, something was going on, for months now, and it was wrong.

Raven looked so sad sometimes, but she was hiding it well. She was a good actress, she really was. Sometimes she was able to hide her emotions as well as she could hide her true form, if she wanted to, but Charles could see behind the facade; he always could because she was his sister and he knew her well. He didn't even need to read her mind.

Her astral form was telling him everything anyway, not that he needed to look at it to know how she felt, but he couldn't avoid it. The astral plane was his home now, mostly. Especially after the incident with Erik.

Sean was so quiet, very quiet. It was weird to see the lively boy so utterly quiet and withdrawn. It was just another hint that something was wrong, that something was bothering not only him but everyone else as well.

Everyone had a different way to cope with it but in the end they failed at bluffing Charles. He might had decided to stop touching their mind but you didn't need to be a telepath to see and feel that something was not right. It was as if something was in the air, a tension, something that made everyone uneasy and tense.

Alex was angry, every day, and he was worn out, Charles could see it in his eyes. Sometimes the blonde boy would go outside into the yard and scream at the birds. It was as if Alex had taken all of Seans energy to transform it in to anger and frustration.

What was wrong with them? Suddenly Charles didn't feel 'wrong' anymore, somehow now he felt as if he was the only sane person in the mansion...

Hank was busy, really busy, spending his time in the lab. Charles rarely saw him then and there but not as often as three month ago. Hank was kind of leaving Charles on his own now, even the writing seasons became less and less important to the blue furred mutant. Not that Charles wasn't important to Hank,no, it was the fact that something else was occupying his mind.

Things were changing.

Charles hadn't seen Erik for days, but that was nothing new. Erik was gone for weeks sometimes and when he returned he looked tired and stern. He was avoiding Charles, and everyone knew why.

He hadn't apologized, wasn't apologizing, and maybe it was because he was too stubborn, maybe because he saw nothing wrong in his actions, Charles wasn't sure.

Though, there was one thing he was sure about; they were drifting apart, slowly, and it seemed that neither of them could do anything to prevent it from happening.

Well,maybe they could.

But they didn't.

It was sad, oh it was, and sometimes Charles would sit alone in his room with Sharon on his lap, laughing quietly because everything was filled with so much irony.

It wasn't fair.

It really really wasn't.

He wished, desperatly, that he could somehow heal himself. That he could make it better. Erik had tried to help him but it had ended with Charles nearly frying his brain. It wasn't Charles fault, no no, he hadn't meant to hurt anyone, it had just happened.

He had felt so hurt...

Now, however, he wasn't angry anymore. Maybe he had never been angry. Where was the point in being angry if it would change nothing?

Anger was still something that Charles dispised and he would never use it against others.

Though, Charles should be angry, shouldn't he? He had the right to be angry, everyone else would be angry, so why wasn't he angry?

He wasn't angry because he was disappointed.

And he wasn't angry because there was no need to be angry.

Erik had tried to help him by using another telepath to enter Charles' mind, something that was not okay but it also showed that the metal-bender cared.

Charles wasn't angry. He was, mentally, too tired to be angry - or to care.

Erik wasn't here, not anymore. Sometimes he would drop by and visit them, talking in a hushed voice with Raven and the others, and it was those times when Charles felt like they were hiding something.

They were hiding something. They wouldn't be able to hide it forever.

Charles wondered where Erik went when he wasn't in the mansion. What was he doing while he was outside?

Something was so so wrong and today Charles would discover what all the fuss was about.

He wouldn't be happy.

But then again, when was the last time he had been happy?

It was somewhere around the afternoon when he heard it from outside.

It was a loud bang, louder than the havoc that Alex used to cause with his energy blasts. Charles was sure he could feel the floor moving underneath him.

Sharon hissed, her green eyes narrowing as her head raised to look at the window. Charles furrowed his brow as he slowly raised his head to look up from his book and out of the window.

The sky was gray and hung over with rain-filled clouds. The yard was empty and everything looked utterly dull. Even the evergreen leaves of the trees seemed to be gray in the dim light of the day. It was in the distance, not too far away, that Charles could see the gray smoke that spiraled towards the sky like the hand of death itself.

And there were flames, high bright flames, Charles could see them with his wide blue eyes as something like utter shock went through him.

This was not right.

This was not good.

This was very very wrong.

Sharon mewed but Charles could barely hear her. His chest filled with fear as his airway began to crush beneath his worry.

I have to see what is going on there...His gaze lowered to look at Sharon, who seemed to shook her head as if to say; no Charles, no.

But he didn't listen.

Oh, why did he never listen...

It was easy to leave his body to jump into the astral plane, almost too easy.

He should be worried since it was usually a bit difficult to struggle with the different atmosphere and the bright colors but he wasn't worried; he was too used to it.

The bright colors of the astral plane greeted him with a soft hum and Charles felt safer now, safer than in his fragile and prone body of his. Oh, he had healed well, not as well as he had hoped but he was fine now, really, better than months ago, but till it was difficult to cope with his current situation.

At least he wished to be able to walk again. He didn't need his right hand, only for playing the piano, something that he rather missed, but he was fine with only his left hand, he really was.

Talking was still a problem because everytime he tried to form a word with his lips it seemed as if something was holding it back, as if he could bring it over his lips, as if something was crushing the words beneath its will, an invisible force that stopped him from talking to anyone. It was so difficult to speak if the silence had become a friend of yours.

It was as if he was spellbound...

But even that was okay. He had accepted it, he would live with it, he would deal with it later, maybe, maybe not. Now he had to take a closer look at the black smoke.

Will you follow me? He asked his loyal cat, but the cat just stared at him. No, not this time, this time he had to go on his own.

All right, he hummed and nodded slowly.All right, this time you won't join me.

He couldn't rely on his cat, not always, not forever. She was just that, a cat, a clever cat maybe and a friend but she was no human being and she had her own will. She had helped him well, had lead him back to a healthier state, and she would watch his way, but she would not take the lead again. He had to start to stand on his own two feet again - literally.

It was easy to move in the astral plane. He could jump through walls, he could run faster than anyone else, he could fly or change his astral form. He was a god, someone with authority, someone who had power. Charles wasn't power hungry and he didn't need others underneath his feet but he needed this, his freedom.

He didn't want to be chained to the wheelchair. He felt like a bird in a golden cage, pitied by everyone while they tried to keep him save from whatever harm there was outside the cage. Half of him was thankful, because they cared, the other half was tired to be chained to the home that he never really loved.

It was so confusing, everything.

It has been easy, once, Charles thought as he ran across the bright green grass. It flew away under his feet like the water of a river. Once I knew exactly what I want, who I want to be, what I have to do...And now I don't even know where to start...

The pieces where still left, shattered on the floor, because Charles hadn't dared to pick them up. He was afraid to hurt himself at the sharp edges..

The smoke was over him now, and the bright sunny sky of the astral plane was filled with nasty gray clouds of thick smoke.

His heart hammered in his chest as his lungs began to fill with sticky smoke.

The smoke was like toxic, flying through the sky in dark clouds while it colored the sky in a nasty dirty purple which slowly swallowed the bright blue of the sky.

Even the golden rays of the sun were not strong enough to break the dark spell of the toxic in the air. Charles kept running, his feet carrying him through the dark wood. It was so dark in the wood, so very dark, that Charles could barely see where he was running. His feet often stumbled over roots and the trees seemed to grab for him like the claws of an angry animal. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks, maybe it was the astral plane that was infested by whatever was causing the fire.

It seemed to take an eternity until he finally reached the end of the woods and the beginning of the fire.

He really wished he hadn't reached it.

He really wished he had stayed inside the mansion.

He really wished he didn't need to see this.

In front of his eyes was war.

There were bodies on the ground, broken bodies, bloody bodies, and there was the fire, bright and warm, the tongues of flame reaching high into the ink black sky.

They screamed.

It was loud, too noisy, and there was so much blood. Blood that was too bright in the astral plane, blood that seemed to glow like the fire while it seeped out of the broken glass bodies of the astral plane and into the cold hard floor; the elixir of life soaking the floor while everything around the bodies seemed to die, seemed to fade into black and white while the blood was unnaturally bright against the colorless surroundings.

And the souls, they flew into the sky, high high into the ever black sky, and mixed with the smoke until nothing was left of the pure colors, until everything was black smoke in the sky.

What was going on?

What was happening?

This couldn't be real.

But it was.

There, in the middle of the fight stood Erik Lehnsherr, watching the fight with his cold eyes as he turned the metal weapons of the humans against said humans.

But Charles Xavier could not see Erik Lehnsherr because all Charles Xavier could see with his astral eyes was the black spot in the astral plane; the cold black spot which held no memories and no emotion, the cold black spot that seemed to suck all energy out of him.

And around this black spot were the mutants with their bright souls and astral bodies made of energy that looked like glass, every single one of them beautiful while they attacked the humans with their different powers.

They shattered, those bodies, they shattered into million pieces as they died, and the smoke inside them flew away until there was nothing left of them, until there only broken bodies of glass were left.

And Charles Xavier stood there, he stood there with wide eyes while he tried to breath, he stood there while his body was shaking with fear and shock, he stood there in the astral plane and watched as humans and mutants slaughtered each other.

Why.

Why?

Why did they do this?

What was the reason, where was the point?

It made no sense...It made no sense!

Panic clawed at his soul and threatened to rip his heart into pieces.

NO, this was impossible...This shouldn't be...This was not what he had wanted...This was not what anyone should want!

And they fell around him, humans and mutants alike, they fell and their bodies shattered and the air was hot and full of smoke and flames.

A man stumbled and fell in front of Charles. He lay on the ground, slowly rolling himself on the back to look up at the sky. His stomach was a red mess of viscera, his clothes torn, and where once his left arm had been was now a bloody stump where you could see the bone of the upper arm.

He had to be near death as his eyes met Charles, who still couldn't believe what he saw.

"Are you...an angel?" The man asked, his voice strained and weak and full of pain and there were tears on his eyes, cristal clear tears that ran down his dirty face and left a trail of white on the dirty skin.

Charles couldn't answer. He had no words. Even if he had the ability to speak, even if it wasn't already hard for him to communicate, he couldn't answer.

He crouched down next to the man, his body shivering with shock as he laid a shaking hand on the belly of the man. The blood was thick and sticky on his hands and seemed to stick there,marking his skin with the touch of death.

Maybe he could heal the man...Maybe he could mend the broken body beneath him like he could bend his own astral body.

But,where would be the point? Would the man be happy to have a broken and dying body while his mind and soul was fixed? Charles wished he could help, he really really wished he could help the man, but he couldn't.

He tried to smile, tried to give the lost soul as much hope as he could manage to face, but it was already to late; the man was dead, and his eyes unseeing as the white smoke left the glass-like astral body to disappear into the dark sky.

STOP THIS MADNESS! Was all Charles wanted to scream, but no words left his dry lips. He didn't cry. The shock was to great and all tears were spent already.

It did hurt, to see them fall apart, to see the souls vanish into the nightsky, to see the fire that ate everything.

For a telepath the death of people around him was horrible and it was even more horrible to see it in the astral plane because you could see every soul fade away, you could see the souls shatter and break, you could see how the life left the body..

You could feel it...

You could feel the souls leaving the bodies, you could feel the life drifting away, vanishing like a spark of fire in the air..

It was horrible, really horrible, and no one should suffer the burden to be able to see the death of others with the eyes of a telepath.

But for Charles it was too late.

He had not only seen the death of people, he had caused death as well and there was nothing in this world that could change the fact that he had seen more than anyone should have seen.

Charles felt sick and he stood up to turn around, to run into the woods far far away from the horror in front of his eyes. He ran and ran and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The wind pulled at his hair, pulled at his clothes and at his very being, but he kept running, running away from the horror of the war.

This was madness.

This was wrong.

This was never meant to be.

Where was the peace?

What had caused the war?

Charles' heart ached, it ached so badly that all he wanted to do was to tear it out so he could feel no more.

What had happened to the life he had known?

What had happened to all the people?

Oh,oh know he could understand why they had changed! Those poor children... His poor Raven...How long had she known?

They shouldn't suffer the burden of a war. They shouldn't see the dead bodies, they shouldn't fight this fight.

Oh Erik, where are you when I need you?

Once again Charles wished he was stronger, but he wasn't.

And once again Charles wished for Erik to be at his side, but he wasn't.

They had left him weak and in pieces and now he was not able to protect those that he loved. How could he, when he couldn't even defend himself?

Would it have come this far if he had been stronger?

A voice hissed inside his head, telling him that it hadn't been his fault. Maybe it hadn't, but he felt responsible. Oh yes, he always felt responsible, his great weakness..

Oh Erik, where are you?

There was a bitter tasted in his mouth as he finally jumped back into his body. His heart was racing and his head did hurt and every fibre of his being was filled with panic and utter horror.

He was crying now, badly and quietly, while he stared at his hands. He was sure they were red with blood, but they weren't. They were as pale as they used to be, no sign of the blood that was on his astral form hands.

He had to do something.

No matter what, he had to do something.

This was not the world he wanted to live in, broken or not, he did not want a world where war between humans and mutants was daily basis.

And after a long time, after all those months that he had spent left alone inside his head, broken and hurt, after all these months he started to feel something else than self-pity and tiredness; he felt the need to do something.

And yes, he wanted to break down and cry even more because everything was just unfair but he had spent enough nights with crying. He was already broken, he couldn't break any further. There was nothing to loose as long as he tried to save what could still be saved.

Charles straightened his back as he wiped away the tears on his face, his mouth a grim line and his expression stern.

It was as if he had woken from a dazed dream...As if he saw everything in a new light, not in a better light no, but in the light of reality.

This time it wasn't about himself, this time it was about the whole world.

And, as everyone knew, if Charles Xavier cared for anything than it was for the wellbeing of others, not the wellbeing of himself.

This point, this tiny point, gave him something to focus on; not his own misery, but the misery of the world. His view was directed from himself and his broken soul to the world that he could still safe, something that he could fix...If it wasn't already too late...

But how?

How, now that he was so broken and maybe beyond repair? How,when he was not able to speak a single word?

This wouldn't be easy, but then again, when had it ever been easy...

Charles grabbed the wheels of his wheelchair as and began to wheel himself towards the door.

He had to see Raven and the others because he had some questions that needed to be answered.