To Charles, the mansion had always been a place of peace, a refuge from the constant barrage of minds he was faced with when surrounded by other people. Certainly, there were always a few others around, Raven, staff and later Erik and the boys, but a few minds were no trouble.

Now, he couldn't help but feel the pulse of the dozens of young people, occasionally catching free floating thoughts. The most of the adults were more contained, trained, he realized. Even the non-telepaths had lived around those who could read their minds and had learned to erect mental barriers, both for their privacy and to give the telepaths a break from the barrage of their thoughts.

There were at least two other telepaths in residence and neither of them seemed perturbed by the swirl of adolescent minds. His older self must have learned a more effective means of closing himself off to all the turbulence. Or at least he hoped he had. Some of the thoughts running through these kid's heads were more than a little unnerving.

Especially the girls. Really, there were some things he had no need to know. Ever.

They left the kitchen sated, but not full as dinner was only a few hours off, courtesy of Mrs. Benton, the woman who ran the mansion's kitchens like a marine drill sergeant. Oddly enough, her son, whom she was grooming to take her place, was a former marine. She herself was the daughter of Mrs. Thayer, the cook Charles knew. In '62, Mrs. Benton had just been Lizzie, Mrs. Thayer's 7 year old daughter. Seeing her now, so many years older was quite a shock.

As they reached the main hall, Charles noticed that Erik was picking at the…unusual outfit he was wearing. Raven, of course, could change her garments on a whim, but he and Erik were still in the clothes their elder selves had been wearing. While the suit he wore was nice, the cut of the waistcoat was oddly high in the back and the shoes pinched.

Coming to a decision, Charles reached out with his mind. Excuse me, Ms. Grey?

He felt a hint of surprise from her, but she answered quickly. What can I do for you, Professor?

I hate to be a bother, but I was wondering about obtaining a change of clothes for Erik and myself.

Of course. We keep spare things in storage. You can probably find…Sean will meet you in the entry hall and show you the way.

Thank you. "Sean's going to show us where they keep the spare clothing," Charles said and Erik nodded in understandable relief.

Fiddling with an odd figurine, Raven asked, "Is it odd having other telepaths around?"

"A bit," Charles admitted, raising a hand to rub his temple. "Ms. Grey and Ms. Frost both have impressive control and I think there may be other students with telepathic abilities. They…resonate differently."

Before he could say anything more, Sean came down the grand staircase, something that looked like a watering can attached to a cord in hand. He offered them a far more genuine smile than most could seem to manage and nodded toward a stretch of wall. "Stairs to the lower levels are behind that panel. Most folks just take the elevator, but Jubilee's already regaling anyone who will listen with the story of the game room TV's demise…so, stairs."

Sean touched the wall and the panel slid smoothly to one side, revealing a staircase. Without doing more than skimming the surface of Sean's mind, Charles learned that destroyed electronics often went to early graves around here.

Following him down the stairs, Charles reflected on the changes time had wrought in the redhead. Gone was the lanky, sometimes awkward and goofy boy who often smelled of funny cigarettes. Fully grown and filled out, Sean moved with the confidence of an athlete and his psyche hummed with self assurance. Still, he was far more familiar than anyone else around here.

The basement level Sean led them onto was vastly different than the ground floor, which seemed more or less unchanged since 1962. This though, streamlined walls in shades of gray, odd doors with high tech looking key pads…it was something out of a science fiction movie.

After making their way through the labyrinthine halls (Charles wondered when the basement had been remodeled), Sean opened a door, revealing a rather cavernous room filled with stacks, upon stacks of boxes. To Charles's great surprise, misguided, perhaps, given their current situation, he saw that many of the boxes were labeled in his own handwriting, labels with short descriptions and dates.

Erik raised a bemused brow. "I didn't know you were such a pack rat, Charles," he mused, stepping over to a shelf and peering into a half opened box. "What is this?"

Dangling from between two of Erik's fingers by it's lank blond hair was what appeared to be a half melted doll.

From where he was shifting a pile of boxes, Sean looked up and grimaced. "Someone melted Barbie accidentally, I suppose," he replied with a shrug, then brightened. "Ah, here we go."

Stepping forward, Charles saw that Sean had unearthed a small pile of boxes labeled Erik, 1962. There was a pulse of melancholy from Sean and an image floated through Charles's mind…a memory.

"Why aren't we just tossing this stuff?" Alex demanded, dropping a box unceremoniously into a corner. He was flushed with anger that seemed to pour off of him in waves.

"Charles wants to keep it," Sean replied, voice sounding strange, like a double echo in his own mind.

"He's not thinking straight," Alex persisted. "He's never gonna walk again 'cause Erik put a bullet in his back and then up and left us…I'm going on a run. You coming?"

Sean pushed the boxes back against a wall. "In a minute…."

The flash of memory hadn't taken place in this room, instead in the old basement that Charles remembered. Clearly, things had been moved during the intervening decades, but Sean still knew where to find these particular boxes. Interesting.

"Charles?"

Apparently, he'd briefly been lost in his head and the others had noticed. Raven had stepped closer to him, puzzled, while Erik had paused pawing through the box and Sean peered from his continued search. Each face showed a varying degree of concern and Charles took a bracing breath. "Sean," he began and felt the other man's hackles rise at his tone, "May I ask you something and request a straight answer."

Oh, hell, ran through Sean's mind, but aloud he said, "Of Course."

"What happened?" Charles asked, stepping forward to take the box that Sean was holding in front of himself like a shield. "The others mentioned that, in this time," he waved a hand indicating himself, Raven and Erik, "We are enemies, but didn't explain how that came about."

Sean wet his lips. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think you, or Henry and I ever truly regarded Erik and Raven as our enemies. We didn't see eye to eye on many things, but not enemies…though in recent days things have been getting worse."

"Start at the beginning," Erik said, settling down on a large plastic crate and fixing Sean with a penetrating gaze.

The red head sighed. "When President Kennedy - God rest his soul - announced that we would not stand for Russia placing missiles in Cuba, you two knew that Shaw would be there to instigate WWIII. By the time we got down to Cuban airspace, the Russian and US fleets were in a standoff, watching to see if the ship carrying the missiles would cross the blockade line. The Russians ordered them to turn, but Shaw's teleported had already killed the crew and set the course to Cuba…so the Professor had one of the Russian ships fire on the cargo ship and destroy it, stopping an international incident."

"Since we knew Shaw was around somewhere, I jumped into the water and located the submarine. Then Erik lifted the sub onto land…but there were issues and the Blackbird went down too. Alex and Hank took on Shaw's minions while Charles guided Erik onto the sub…where eventually Erik got the helmet off of Shaw and Charles froze him…and you killed him Erik."

"Everyone was pretty battered when you dropped Shaw onto the beach, Erik. You were wearing the helmet, so Charles couldn't get into your head and you made your new stand known. I remember you telling us to stop fighting amongst ourselves. That the enemy was the humans out on the ships and they were about to attack us. Charles confirmed that and Moira tried to radio them to stop the attack…it did no good."

"Dozens and dozens of missiles were launched at us and Erik stopped them…and they spun in mid-air to aim back at the ships. Charles tried to talk you out of attacking, saying there were lots of innocents on the ships, just men following orders…."

Charles felt Erik tense at that, felt the pulse of anger, but he refrained from commenting to allow Sean to continue.

"You replied that you'd been at the mercy of men just following orders and never again. Then tossed the missiles at the ships. Then Charles tackled you, there was a fight, trying to get the helmet off of Erik and, let's just say you didn't do too well Charles. We tried to move forward to help but were tossed back."

"Then Moira tried to stop Erik by shooting him…but that didn't have much effect as he deflected the bullets…unfortunately one hit Charles in the spine."

Charles felt shock and denial from both Erik and Raven as Sean continued, not looking at them. "We felt you scream more than heard it, Charles. We saw you fall. Raven was the one screaming and Erik scrambled to you, falling to his knees, removing the bullet, holding you…Erik was upset enough to lose control of the missiles and they detonated above the ship. There was a scary moment when Erik choked Moira with her dog tags, blaming her for shooting Charles, but he convinced you that it wasn't her fault."

"Us turning on each other. It's what they want. I tried to warn you Charles. I want you by my side We're brothers, You and I. All of us together, protecting each other we want the same thing…That's what you said, Erik. So much of that day is burned into my brain. Charles, your reply was that you didn't want the same thing. So Erik rose, letting Moira take his place and asked who was with him."

"Shaw's people and Raven left with him. Then me, Alex and Hank ran to Moira and Charles and Hank said not to move…and Charles told us he couldn't feel his legs. I still don't know how he convinced the Navy to pick us up and transport us back to Florida….but needless to say, that's how the whole conflict began…."

Dear lord, and that was only the beginning. How traumatic must the rest of the fifty years be? "I think that's enough to digest for the moment," Charles said quietly, noting how Erik was clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles had gone white and Raven had her hands pressed over her mouth. Even Sean, who knew all the details, was looking a little wrung out.

They spent a few more minutes sorting through the boxes and selecting some garments to bring upstairs. Everything had been packed away for so long that the creases seemed permanently embossed into the fabric, but that turned out to be the reason Sean was toting around the strange watering can. It was a steamer that pressed the wrinkles out of fabric, like at the dry cleaners. That had to come in handy.

After Sean's little history lesson, it was even odder to discover no one had been assigned either Erik or Raven's suites. Both rooms were kept in order by the staff and their things had long since been moved to storage, but the rooms themselves, closest to Charles's suite, stood empty.

Clustered in Charles's suite, they managed (or, to be fair, Raven managed) to work the steamer as Sean had shown them and were dressed in familiar clothing by the time Ms. Grey's voice echoed in their heads.

Dinner is being served in the dining hall.

Charles looked to Erik, who straightened the collar of his turtleneck and nodded. Raven looped her arms through each of their elbows as they set off to the dining hall.

Once more into the breach.

TBC…..

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