Terribly sorry for the lateness, had been out of service for close to two weeks due to the flu, then catching up on work. Thank you so much for the wonderfully kind reviews/fav/follow/kudos! They never fail to brighten my day :)
So I realized I made a sort of big booboo with the children's ages. Back in ch.5 I had set Scott as 13, Ororo as 11 and Jean as 9, and I've kinda been writing them thinking I had set them a bit older, esp Scott and Ororo. So from now I'm just going to say Scott is 15 going on 16, Ororo recently turned 14, Jean is still 9, and Warren is 15 (Though in a confusing turn of events, I imaging them closer to those ages originally stated... yeah... hit me with them rotten eggs!)
I had planned for a much longer chapter, but that would have needed quite a bit more time, and I think it was a good place to end, so please forgive more the shorter update!
-they are unnatural! The work of the devil! They are as filthy, if not more so than those ungodly, disease spreading homosex-
Charles sat staring at the television wondering how the day could get any worse. First it was his monumentally inappropriate wet dream of the man who slept across the hall from him. He had spent that first hour since waking up, stalking around his room, pulling at his hair and staring accusingly at his dirtied dark gray cotton briefs, with the crotch area now dried into a light gray color, and to his utter dismay, hardened into a crisp. He mouthed curses at all the useless books he'd been reading at school, none of which had prepared him for this mortification. Of course he knew there would be no book on 'how to manage wet dreams when you are a growing telepath', but he'd had thought at least there would be pointers on 'how to eviscerate evidence of inappropriate dreaming, right from the safety and comfort of your locked room'. Charles decided his only option was to stay in his room. Forever. And ever. And forever more. Even better if one of those black holes Hank was lecturing them about last week would miraculously open up right here and suck him away to a deep black void of oblivion.
The young man had to abort his plans to become a hermit when Ororo knocked on the door to call him for breakfast, and thus alerting him of his grumbling stomach. He had managed to avoid eye contact with anyone, so he had yet figured out whether he had inadvertently broadcast his steam-filled dream, but knowing his recent luck, the whole zip-code had been forced awake by images of a well toned, glistening wet and very much naked piece of physical perfection. That thought alone, of somebody else seeing Erik nude, made Charles' nerves burn. Because of course he'd be a childish, possessive crybaby with feelings that should not exist and will probably never be returned. And this brings Charles' thoughts back to the broadcast flashing from the television, which at the same time highlights just how selfish he is, worrying about his own so called deviant desires when a real and current threat to mutant kind is declaring war.
The large living room had been engulfed in a heavy silence and the air was suffocatingly thick with tension. This was the first ever televised national broadcast concerning 'the mutant threat'. An issue most of humanity thought simply to be made-up and exaggerated metaphors to sell papers and airtime. It was also the first outright blaring declaration against them from a human. And even though most news outlets have been 'told' to bury any reports too close to the truth for the government's liking, they could not hold down the pure charisma and massive following of William Stryker, a former colonel of the U.S. Army, though Emma has ample evidence proving he is far from retired from the military.
-and we of the pure blood, the Purifiers, will lead humanity-
Cold sweat formed and meaningful glares were being directed across the room and all around Charles, but he couldn't bring himself to decipher them. Charles felt sick that his mind would not let go of his own measly matter, but the words of that middle aged man with platinum blonde hair and stern looking eyes kept replaying in his mind. Ungodly. Disease. It wasn't as if Charles was a religious man, but the ferociousness in man's tone pierced through Charles' numb subconscious, every word a poisonous arrow striking into him. According to that man, he was the worst of the worst, a freak among freaks.
-let this be the day humanity comes together and-
Alex finally switched the television off before he lost control and obliterated it. That throat wrenching silence remained as furious glares and worried gazes darted across the room. Charles found it increasingly hard to breathe, his mind was numb with both keeping his thoughts in and keeping an anxious Jean and an inquisitive Emma out. Before anyone broke the silence, Charles had fled the room, one had covering his mouth just in case, as his unease has worked its way to his gut, turning his insides upside down, threatening to unload his breakfast and lunch up through his esophagus.
~x~
The air outside was sharp and crisply cold, the type that cuts through the layers of warm woolen clothing and makes one's ears sting. Charles stood at the outer porch brick wall, the exact same spot where his older self entered into Erik's mind and showed him serenity. The young man was shivering and huddled tightly into himself, probably regretting not stepping out with a coat yet too stubborn to step back inside.
By the sudden straightening of his back, Erik knew the exact moment Charles realized he was walking up from behind the younger man, approaching silently with a coat in one hand and a portable wooden chess set in the other. Erik placed the board in Charles' hands and draped the coat over his slender shoulders, immediately garnering the younger man to relax backwards a little into the elder's arms."How about a game of chess?"
During the broadcast, Erik had paid more attention to the reactions of the others watching than the actual proceedings on screen, and he didn't miss how ghostly pale Charles' skin had become, and the thin layer of sweat accumulating at his temple. Erik had initially thought it was reaction from fear, but somehow it didn't make any sense. This wasn't the first time in Charles' 'young life' he had faced a human's contempt for mutants, by all accounts he is still suffering neglect and verbal abuse from his drunken mother on a daily basis, and yet his reaction indicates Stryker's words have hit an even deeper and more personal level. Something was terribly off. Erik needed to get Charles to open up.
And chess was his best chance.
Erik squeezed Charles' shoulder fondly, gently maneuvering him towards the weather worn set of cast iron garden chairs and table. Charles automatically sets up the board, and as if second nature to him, he flips the board so that Erik plays black. Their game, starts off in silence, with Charles' focus completely absorbed the board, a little too deliberately Erik observes. One of the teen's foot taps restlessly at one leg of the cast iron chair, and Erik finds himself holding down a quirked brow and questioning comment. He will let Charles make the first move. After half an hour of wordless playing, and Charles' King backed into a corner, Erik's patience is rewarded.
"I know what you're doing, Erik."
"And what might that be?"
"You want me to tell you what's bothering me. Using chess as a diversion... I'm onto you, you know."
Erik's amused and affectionate chuckle only added to Charles' pout.
"You got me, maus. And? Are you willing to open up to me?"
Charles' cheeks take on a deep red as his brilliant blue eyes flicker about, only making contact with Erik's moss green eyes momentarily.
"D-did I project anything this morning?"
"This morning? During the broadcast?"
"No... I mean, really early this morning... before breakfast."
"You had a bad dream?"
The younger man sputters, and now his neck is as red as his cheeks.
"*cough* No... n-not exactly a bad dream... more of a... umm... private dream. But since you have no idea I had a we- dream, I think I'll be fine."
Erik narrowed his eyes in consideration.
"...did you have a dream involving sex?"
Charles froze. The darker wooden pawn piece fell out of his startled hand, tumbling unevenly on the intricate design of the table top.
"W-wha-what makes you think that?"
"I know you've had to discover and learn about a lot of things on you're own, without a father figure you can trust and talk to... Those feeling you're experiencing, the bodily changes, it's all part of growing up. Your dreams don't mean anything bad. You don't have to face these things alone." Not this time round.
Erik bit down hard the insides of his cheeks to stop gagging on the memory of Shaw giving him The Talk, acting as if he hadn't shot his mother in front of him, then ordered his father tortured then gutted as punishment for Erik's slow progress.
"Did... you ever have such dreams?"
"Of course I did. Rarely now, you grow out of them, though they may never go away completely."
"W-what if my dream involved someone I should think of as family... and not of the female persuasion?"
Charles kept his eyes firmly on the board, his face even more maroon. Erik's shoulders tensed just that little bit. Erik felt as if Charles was hitting one bulls-eye after another. He remembers all too clearly the last sexual dream he experienced. It occurred right after Cuba.
"...there's nothing wrong with homosexuality or bisexuality or any other type there might exist."
"But that Stryker man... he said the Bible-"
"Stryker also named us mutants as devils, you really want to listen to his bigotry?"
"No. You're right. I'm sorry, I'm just... scared. Scared that my feelings won't be returned. I'm scared that yo- he won't ever see me in the way that I see him."
Inwardly, Erik was in complete turmoil. Charles' ill advised crush on him was something the others loved to tease him about, but as Charles grows in age, Erik has felt the younger's crush on him become an infatuation. Emma has hinted that this was an opportunity not to be missed, but he wasn't prepared to use this against Charles. He thinks he won't ever be able to cross that line. Yet, buried deep within him, together with his most coveted memories, is the realization of what he 'will come to feel' for Charles, a realization came too late, after he'd hurt Charles so grievously on that beach. Furthermore, the he most sickening to him was the fact that even after losing Charles like that, he'd had his first sexual dream in years. Of Charles submitting.
Erik knew he must not encourage this, that he doesn't deserve it, but... he doesn't want to let him go.
"Charles, you're still so young, and I-"
"It's fine! I understand. I-I've got too much studying to do anyway... and, and I doubt mother would be very happy about him. Oh look... you've got my king utterly trapped, I surrender this round. Another?"
Charles tips over the lighter brown king piece, effectively ending the game. Across the small round table, Erik wonders if the truly trapped king was Charles or himself.
Ororo loved this time of year. Winter was giving way to spring, and the dulled colors of the landscape once again reveals their colorful treasure to those who paused to absorbs their magnificence. The young woman would spend much of her spare time outside, prepping the soil for the coming seasonal change, adding new layers of compose, removing weeds and mushrooms, which sometimes to her delight were the edible sort. It was certainly a much needed change and breather from last week, when tensions within the household made everyone so high-strung, even Jean had unintentionally snapped at Warren.
She had been tending to a patch of rose bushes, growing right beside one wall of the mansion, that were showing signs of an early blossom when she heard a high pitched, terrified shriek and loud tumble, possibly from a fallen chair. The noise came from the open windows nearby on the second floor, and judging by its location, Ororo guessed it was Angel's room.
Ororo immediately flew up towards the window, eyes burning white as she readies herself for the worst. From the recent training the children had been receiving from Logan, Ororo hovered out of sight beside the window, using it's reflective properties to peek inside. She can make out Angel's reflection, sitting on the grown awkwardly, as if she had fallen, but no one else was in the room.
"Angel!? What's wrong? Are you in danger?"
The younger woman whispered loudly, still unsure whether it was safe to speak aloud properly. She could hear Angel's frightened breathing, but there didn't seem to be anyone or anything else in the room with her. Ororo allows for another moment to pass, then takes in a large breathe, shutting her eyes and prays she makes the right decision in entering the room. For the next couple of minutes, all she hears is the thunderously beating of her heart while she scours the room, going through all the precautions she's been taught.
"O-over there... the d-dressing table.."
Angel's usually relaxed and flexible body is stiff and ridge at the foot of the bed, her delicate see-through wings wrapped protectively around her. Ororo sees no obvious signs of injury so she gathers all her courage and walks up to check out the dressing table. There was an assortment of skincare and cosmetics on the table, and near the center was a box of makeup powder, a large amount of its contents spilled onto the dark oak surface. There was something written within the powdery mess.
I'm sorry
"I-it moved... It just moved by itself. Right in front of my eyes."
The fear in Angel's voice only added to raise goose bumps all over Ororo's skin. It didn't seem to be anything evil, and as someone who comes from a long line of those with a strong connection with the spiritual world, she would normally be able to feel any spiritual energy within a limited range, especially darker energy.
A knock comes at the door, then opens to reveal a concerned Jean, whose room was quite close by. Something flickers across Angel's eyes and she jump onto her legs, grabbing onto Jean's hands.
"Jean? Is this your doing? Please tell me it was you practicing your telekinesis. O-or is this some prank you guys are pulling? Please, I'm kinda freaking out here."
"What are you talking? I haven't started practicing for the day yet... Hold on. I know that mind."
Ororo looks at Jean, and both their faces light up instantly.
"No name!"
~x~
"C-can I talk to him?"
Alex, still on crutches per Scott's orders, looked more fragile than Ororo's ever seen him.
"We've never directly communicated with No Name. Jean and I kind of just get this positive or negative feeling in our mind. The few times No Name's moved something physically, he goes quiet for awhile. We think it's because it takes too much out of him."
"...Darwin. His name- h-he liked us to call him Darwin. Cause, you can adopt to anything, right?"
The elder Summers chuckles shakily, and asks the vacant space in the room. A scrunched up piece of paper flew out of the bin and hit Alex right in the forehead. A tightly wound up coil seems to loosen, and the blonde man cracks up laughing. No one comments on his red-rimmed and flooded eyes. Nor do they comment on how wrecked and guilty Angel looked.
"We need to tell him, if not today, then definitely tomorrow."
It was well after midnight, and all the younger residents of the mansion have gone to sleep. Raven sat at her usual spot at the dining table, swaying a mug of herbal tea. Also at the table was Erik, Hank and Sean. All with varying expressions of resolution to the inevitable.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, Charles regains his fourteen year old memories. The memories of finding a homeless and starving Raven, imposing as his mother, raiding the fridge in the middle of the night.
They cannot keep Charles from the truth any longer. She just hopes that they haven't left it too late.
~x~
"Umm... Charles? Before your session today, we have something we need to talk to you about."
Hank had asked Charles to follow him to the study, where Sean, Erik and Raven already stood waiting. Sean had asked Alex to keep an eye on the other children. Just in case. In case of what, neither of them wished to guess about, but they knew they needed to take every precaution.
Today could mean the end of their state of truce. And even if half the mansion's residents are not told to leave today, it was still going to be the beginning of the end.
Raven had wanted to be the one to tell him the truth, but Erik stepped in, and reasoned that perhaps Hank should be the one to explain things, since he was the one who will be there for the treatment too. Sean wondered if he was over thinking things when his first thought was that this was a tactical move from Erik, perhaps giving him the chance to observe matters from the side, and step in at the most opportune moment. The red head couldn't to risk giving Erik any slight chance to manipulate Charles, so he conceded to have Hank explain, but Erik, Raven and himself will be in the room together with them.
"Do you sometimes feel, you're living two separate lives?"
Charles' eyes widened in bewildered acknowledgment.
"You're all never here when mother, or Kurt, or Cain are here. And there's been so many times when I thought I had made you all up. Sometimes it feels like I made mother... and papa and the Markos up instead. I-is there something wrong with me? Is that why I need the treatments?"
"No! There's nothing wrong with you. What you know of you're family and your schooling, are real and proper memories. They... happened to you some years ago. You're actually 32 going on 33 years old, but you've been reliving your childhood memories for the last few months."
As Hank goes on, Charles jaw drops lower and lower.
"Are you saying... I've been reborn? Reincarnated?"
"A little bit like that. You were hurt very badly. Paralyzed from the waist down. I built the cell regeneration chamber so we could reverse the permanent tissue damage... and it worked... just too well. You're cells reversed so much, you returned to you're two year old body and mind. I didn't want to put your life at risk and have you go through another drastic transformation, so we've been aging you incrementally by a year, every week."
The Beast tried to place a hand on the teen's shoulder, only to have the latter flinch away.
"I'm so sorry, Charles! You had put your trust in me, and I failed! I failed again."
Hank's last few words are choked out, his gaze directed at Raven.
"I don't blame you, Hank. I-it's just a lot to take in, I need a momen- How did I get paralyzed?"
From Charles' rushed and distracted speech, the others could tell that brain was jumping from one reasoning to another. He was too deep in his thoughts to catch sight of the other's glancing over at Erik.
"I did it."
Charles head snap up, his entire body jolted at Erik's steely voice.
"I sent a bullet into your spine, and left you paralyzed."
No one moved or breathed for a long torturous minute. Then Charles doubled over, heaving bile all over his feet.
The Boy and the Flu
A not-so-fluffy snapshot, and definitely can be taken to be part of the main plot.
This was mostly written over two weeks ago when it was an extremely dark and wet day, and I suffered the moodies, little did I know my mutation is the power of written premonition, (so from now on, my stories should just contain the following two words: McFassy threesome! I am open to bribes ;D)
Charles, aged just under 4
It started with Sean around a week ago. He had been out one afternoon running errands and making a quick detour for some groceries. After a hefty dinner, he had brushed off the lingering dry feeling in his throat to the extensive exercises of his powers the day before. That dryness turned into a blistering pain overnight, so excruciating it had woken the man up before sunrise.
Cool water, warm water, steaming hot water laced with honey and lemon all did little to soothe the pain or that unquenchable dryness. By late afternoon, Sean's head was swimming, his body suffering from phantom aches, and shivering with sweat from both hot and cold.
"Alex is going to take you to see a doctor."
Hank had taken his temperature, and was relieved that Sean's fever had broken, although still a little too high for comfort.
"Nah, I'll be fine, just have Alex be my servant for a few da-"
Sean starts coughing uncontrollably, his face contorted in agony when each cough feels like fiery sandpaper scraping inside his throat. The door to Sean's room creaks open, and Charles pokes his head through, his blue eyes made even bluer by his tears.
"Sean? I brought Blankie, Loki and Thor to make you better."
Charles had gone into mother-hen overdrive when he'd been told Sean was ill. He wanted to personally make and bring Sean his food and drink, even asking Sean if he needed help with taking a bath.
Sean sat up straighter to thank the boy, but his movements managed to irritate his throat, causing the bed-bound man to choke and enter into another fit of coughs. Charles had not witnessed these fits before, and he was soon crawled into Sean's space, stubbornly ignoring both Hank's and Sean's pleas for the boy to leave the room. Hank had no other choice but to take Charles into his arms and leave, which instantly turned on Charles' water works.
"No! ! Sean! I wanna help Sean! ! !"
"You have to *cough* leave with Hank, little man. I *cough cough* I'd feel even worse if I got you sick too."
Those words didn't placate Charles one bit, and Sean could hear Charles crying into Hank's fuzzy neck as the man walked down the hall, hopefully to find Erik and have him distract the boy.
The week would get even worse as the flu pass from one to another. Erik was on strict orders to, drench himself in disinfectant, take excessive amounts of vitamins and stay well away from anyone who are or had been ill. Everyone shuddered to think what would happen to Charles if Erik got ill.
And then Charles got sick.
~x~
Erik hasn't slept lying on a bed for the last two days. He'd been trying to tend to Charles' bedside, but whenever anyone neared the boy, he'd burst into tears and coughs, and hid himself under the covers. So really, Erik had mostly been brooding outside of Charles' room. He had just taken a long warm shower, and now slouched over the bed, above the covers, staring blanking up at the off white ceiling. His body felt boneless, yet his brain was painfully awake, that state where you've become so tired, your body produces excess energy out of nowhere and it all rushes to the brain. Suddenly, the door to his room flies open, and a shivering Charles comes running in.
"Maus!? What are you doing out of bed? Where's Raven?"
Raven had told everyone else to go to bed, and to not come out of their respective rooms until they got some proper sleep. Her mutation seemed to allow her quite a bit of immunity from the common flu, so she had been the best suited to tend to those who were ill. Not that it stopped any of the others fussing over everyone else, and especially over Charles.
The boy runs past Erik into his room, but not to climb onto the bed as Erik thought, and instead looks around the room in a panic, half wheezing and rasping loudly through his mouth. As Charles looks frantically around the room, seemingly unable to find what he is looking for, his wheezing becomes worse, and his cough, painful even to Erik's ears, increase in amount.
"What are you lookin-"
Charles' whole body trembles in relief as he spots the item he has been looking for, and it was one item Erik would have never guessed the boy to want to see.
It was his telepathy-nulling helmet, hidden within an unassuming cardboard box, placed under the bed, directly under the side Erik prefers to sleep. The only logical conclusion Erik could fathom was that Charles' powers were going haywire due to the flu, and the helmet was adding to his discomfort.
"I'm so sorry, maus. I'll take that outside, far away from-"
All of a sudden, Charles grabs the helmet with both hands and lifts it's hefty weight upon his little head. Charles' head disappears into the helmet, it being more than twice the size of the boy's head, and too heavy for his neck, thus Charles' hands remain holding up the metal contraption.
"H-huh have to hide it."
The boy's speech was shaky, throaty and mucus heavy.
"Hide it? Hide what?"
Erik felt a sour pain seeping from his innards, out through his pores. Charles can't be implying what he thinks, it's... inconceivable. Erik kneels right up into the sniffling child's personal space, attempting to take the helmet so that he could look into the boy's baby blues and find out this was all a big funny game Charles is playing. But, Charles' grasp only tightens, his whole body flinching together backwards, as if trying to crawl under the bed.
"No! Please! Hav'ta hide it! !"
"Charles... Ar-are you hiding your mind? Your telepathy?"
"Don' wanna.. huh... hurt everyone."
"What makes you think you're going to hurt anyone?"
Erik attempts to near the gasping child again, only to literally drive the boy under the bed, leaving only one shivering woolly socked foot in sight.
"Charles, please come out from under there and come sleep on the bed."
"No! Go away! … please... don' wanna hurt you."
It broke Erik in so many places to conclude that Charles was hiding his telepathy for fear of projecting his discomfort and headache to everyone. Perhaps it was their fault for telling him to stay out of the rooms of those who were ill and resting in bed when the boy desperately wanted to keep watch by their bedside. Of course they should have seen this coming. Charles, even at such a tender age, has a habit of putting those he cares about before him. Erik releases a pained, shaky breath.
"Please come sleep on the bed, maus. Knowing you're suffering down there, breaks my heart. I'm sure it'll break everyone else's heart too."
The wheezing and sniffing below the bed stops for a moment, and Erik finally breathes again when he sees two little legs wiggling backwards, bringing with them Charles from underneath the mattress.
Glazed blue orbs looking up solemnly and worriedly from under the metal helmet, then without further prompting, Charles climbs onto the bed, struggling a bit because hand arms were still preoccupied with propping up the heaving metal head piece. Erik moves in, lifts the boy up with ease, encasing him snugly within his arms. Only to have the toddler burst into tears again as he wails.
"Nooo *cough cough* ooo! ! Don' touch! Don' wanna! ! I don *cough* wanna hurt you! Erik, No! *cough* Don' want Erik sick! !"
Charles desperately tries to escape Erik's hold, and the man quickly lifts the down-lined covers, and places the hysterical boy within the comfort and warmth of the blankets.
"Sshhh... It's okay now, maus. I'm fine. I promise you I won't get sick. Just let me-"
"Noooo! !"
Charles is cut off when his sore throat makes him choke and gag some more, and each passing second has Erik tearing up just a little bit more. He can't leave Charles suffering like this, and he decides to have Azazel bring Emma back from assignment, so that she could provide some mental blocks. Just as he is about to leave the room, Jean enters, looking heavily fatigued.
"Charles placed Raven into deep sleep. She'll be fine when she wakes up."
The girl makes her way to the bedside, and looks forlornly at the piled up blankets.
"Can you lift away the helmet? I can soothe his mind."
"Are you sure? You look like you need a lot of rest. I was just about to call Emma back."
Jean looks directly into Erik's eyes, and there is such an intensity within those brilliant green eyes, Erik knew the conversation was over. The man lifts his hand to lead the helmet away from Charles, ignoring Charles' sobbing pleas.
"Hey, Charlie. I'm here. Let me in and I promise you everyone will be okay."
The effect is not immediate, but Charles' sobs quieten, his breathing calms bit by bit. Jean crawls into the blankets, snuggles close to Charles, and makes sure he is tucked in properly. She looks back at Erik with a more content look on her face now, and offers a smile that look a bit tired, but still shone brighter than daylight.
"You can sleep in my room tonight if you want. Charles will be fine with me."
~x~
When Erik returns to his room early next morning after a light breakfast, he finds his bed occupied by a blissful Charles, surrounded by Jean, Ororo, Scott, Alex, Hank and Sean, all laughing and chatting away. Erik wonders if this scene of unguarded tranquility was something he would experience again in his lifetime. It was so tempting to walk in and join them.
Erik feet lingers at the threshold, desperately itching to cross.