Sorry for the short chapter. It's why I paired it up with chapter six to publish this week. By the way, here is where Breaking and Entering could be a counterpoint to.

Time and point of view are played for effect.

Thank you to Hoodoo for being my beta reader.

I own nothing.

Chapter Seven

Erik during his time prior to meeting Charles had been adept at a great number of unsavory things.

"Of course you have," Charles said one day. He was lounging on one of the many leather sofas, his legs draped over Erik's lap. "How could you not hone your Nazi killing skills without knowing a few "unsavory" talents, as you like to put it." Erik made a face, his only response was to push Charles' legs from his lap and onto the floor. Charles laughed and pulled him into a kiss erasing Erik's sudden turn of moods.

One of these unsavory things happened to be breaking and entering and just to make things more a challenge to himself - he sometimes did so without the use of his gift. So, breaking into Charles' Westchester mansion should have been easier said than done. He knew his (former) home inside and out. Erik stifled the pang he felt when he finally got to the mansion. (This could have been my home.)

Erik spent a few weeks casing the mansion and noticed a few new things since his last day there. One was the name plate firmly attached to the main brick column of the gate which read, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. (Interesting. So, he really is planning on opening that school. Fool. He'll just get himself and others massacred.) Two was the erection of several state-of-the-art security systems, including cameras pointed in his direction. Erik had not counted on the fact that Charles really was intent on protecting his young charges, given his maudlin tendency towards pacifism. And three was the damnable use of lighting. There were few shadows that Erik Lehnsherr could just blend into and this was just frustrating to Erik.

Another thing that Erik could not shake was that he was almost, almost sure that someone was watching him. (Someone is always watching, Erik.)

He did not want Charles to know that he had been there, so Erik took Shaw's damnable helmet with him. He admitted that it looked rather silly, but it was very effective at keeping Emma and more importantly Charles out of his head. He did not want Charles seeing how distressed he was after leaving him behind on the beach. Erik needed to be his own man…even if he no longer knew that that meant.

So, Erik, dressed in his customary black clothing with Shaw's helmet on his head, attempted to break into the mansion that he could have easily called his home at one point.

He quietly walked into the mansion, disabling the alarm systems and walked confidently to where he knew Charles would be. Seeing a light come from under the study door lightened Erik's steps, but it was the voices on the other side that stopped him short. The door was ajar and Erik carefully, carefully pushed it open further but not all the way. He could see Charles seated behind his desk and sitting on his desk to Charles' right was Hank McCoy, still blue, furry and heavily muscled. Erik could see that they were having some sort of discussion, no argument.

"Charles, we need to be more proactive," Hank said tersely. Since his full mutation (Erik believed that this was how the young scientist was meant to be) everything Hank said sounded more guttural, more animalistic, more inhuman. Not things he would ever tell the scientist. Erik could tell, just by his posture alone that Hank was not yet used to his real form. (If ever.)

Charles murmured something that Erik could not hear.

And suddenly Hank pounded the table with his fist. And Charles' eyes narrowed at the young man in irritation. Erik cannot tell if Hank was embarrassed by this blatant display of emotion, but he had enough grace to hide in the shadows (and hope that Hank cannot smell the fear on him). No sooner had Erik melted into the shadows when Hank ripped open the study door, nearly taking it off the hinges and stalked passed Erik's hiding place, leaving the door at an odd angle and open for him to see inside.

Charles just stared into the black hallway and sighed. Then he wheeled himself from around his table and stopped at the chess board that was set up next to the fireplace. He looked at the board and angrily flung the board against the wall wildly scattering the pieces everywhere. Erik's heart was in his throat. (Moira was right. Moira was very, very right. How could have he done this to Charles?)

He was never happier to have Shaw's damned helmet on as he was right now, Charles turned himself to the fireplace and Erik could no longer see his brilliant blue eyes. Or the weariness that he knew to be there. Erik knew that he should leave before he was caught by an angry Hank. But he could not move from his spot. He wanted very badly to go to Charles and to try and soothe him, but Erik knew that Charles would only turn him away. The waves of anger, bitterness and sadness roll off the telepath telling Erik that this was true.

So, Erik did the only think he could think of: he left again without saying goodbye.

I'm sorry for the short chapter. Sometimes, that's how the cookie crumbles.

Reviews are awesome. Gentle criticisms are even better.