I know this is super late, but finals and the end of the semester kicked my butt. Plus holiday shopping...and I had a request to fulfill. So this next chapter is (hopefully) what you wanted Silvanchild as well as what I originally had written.

Thank you to all who follow/favorite or are just happily reading along. It's much appreciated.

This one's also a bit longer because I added some parts after it was written. Hopefully it doesn't disrupt the flow all that much. Also, it's an especially long one this time and I hope it flows well.

Charles stood facing a punching bag in the apartment's gym, wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He cut a glance to his right, where Erik stood with his arms crossed, a mulish tint to his expression. "You want me to what?" Charles asked, surprised.

"Hit it," Erik stated.

"Why?"

"You say you know how to punch, that Scott showed you a bit. Prove it." Erik gestured towards the punching bag. "Throw a punch. Show me what I'm working with."

Charles frowned at him but turned back to study the faded red leather bag dangling in front of him. You asked for this, he reminded himself. Taking a quick breath, Charles folded the fingers of his right hand into a fist and swung.

The bag moved a fraction of an inch.

Erik huffed and came over. "Well, that was pathetic." Charles glared at him. "Make a fist for me."

Charles lifted an eyebrow questioningly but did it anyway. Erik tsked. "That's a good way to break your thumb."

"Excuse me?"

Erik took his hand and rearranged his fingers so that his thumb was resting against the outside of his index finger. "Make a fist like this; that way you won't break your thumb. Plus you'll be able to dig the nail into the skin; add a little extra pain to the hit."

Intrigued, Charles did the same with his left hand, studying his hands. He'd never made a fist this way. Then Erik said, "Slide your feet apart; one in front, one in back."

When Charles threw him another questioning look, Erik demonstrated. Glancing down, Charles copied him. He really had no clue what he was doing, apparently.

Erik's hands on his hips took him by surprise. He half-twisted around. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you how to actually put some power behind your punches." Erik's voice was matter of fact, showing that he had no idea that his touch set fire to Charles' skin like he'd never felt before. "Face forward." Charles did and Erik said, "This is your ready stance. Remember how it feels, what it looks like, so you'll be able to do it again on your own. Now, when you swing at the bag, step forward with your left foot and throw your whole body into it. Like this." Erik managed to twist Charles back and then forward, Charles' hand landing to rest gently against the leather. "Now you try," he said, stepping back.

Already Charles missed his touch but he forced himself back to the task at hand. He curled his right hand into a fist, like Erik showed him, brought his arm back—making sure to twist his body—then stepped forward.

The punching bag bounced backwards, bowing inwards a bit where his fist had hit it, and Charles let out a delighted laugh. He turned, sought Erik's gaze and beamed. "I did it!"

Erik nodded, no expression on his face. "Do it again."

Feeling a bit deflated at Erik's lack of emotion, Charles turned around and swung again. Erik had him do five more with his right hand before making him switch to his left. That was incredibly awkward and did not go nearly as well.

But he was getting it.

Charles was seriously regretting his decision to ask Erik for training. That first week had been a lot of running and lifting weights and he was almost positive he didn't have any muscles anymore. Combine that with punching a leather bag and the skin of his knuckles were red and raw. That first night he'd come back to the apartment, flopped on the couch and refused to move. And Erik had laughed at him, enjoying his pain. Scott and Alex were sympathetic, though, offering ice and tea. And painkillers. Lots and lots of painkillers.

Xavier was definitely getting better. He wasn't at the level of the agents, but he was doing okay for a professor. Erik watched with approval as he threw a few punches in rapid succession, alternating left and right as Erik had instructed. He was a quick learner, something Erik hadn't anticipated.

He also didn't complain when Erik informed him he was doing it wrong, another thing Erik grudgingly approved of. So Erik pushed him, dragging him out of bed early to go on runs, dragging him to the gym for lessons. Xavier stopped for a breath, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead, and Erik called him over to the mats.

Xavier came to a stop in front of him, looking equal parts curious and wary. Erik bit back an amused smile. "Time to move on." He bent down and picked up a pair of punching shields which he slid his hands into. Erik settled his feet firmly on the mat, making sure he was balanced, and held up his hands. Xavier looked faintly alarmed as Erik said, "A smaller target—try to hit the shields. And don't hold back."

"What if I miss?"

Erik shrugged. What did he care? "I've been hit before." He slapped the shields together and held them out once more.

Xavier slowly lowered into the ready stance Erik had shown him, raised his hands and hesitated. "Are you sure about this?"

Erik gritted his teeth. "Would I be doing this if I wasn't…Don't answer that. Yes, I'm sure."

Xavier bit his lip, clearly uncertain, but swung anyway.

Erik scowled at him. He didn't even feel it. "Harder."

Xavier tried again and it glanced off the edge. Erik's voice lowered as he ordered, "Damn it, punch like you mean it!"

Xavier huffed but Erik watched as he bounced slightly before shifting his weight, drawing his arm back and—finally. He felt that one.

Erik nodded. "There we go. Again!"

This one glanced off the top and Xavier frowned. Now Erik knew he was invested. He swung again, quicker this time, and landed square in the middle.

"Left hand," Erik ordered and Xavier obligingly shifted.

Three punches later, Erik switched him back to his right. He missed. Erik snapped, "Try again."

Xavier scowled at him but thankfully refrained from saying anything, instead trying again.

After that, Erik varied the switches—left, left, right, left, right, right, right, left, right. Again and again, trying to get him to get the feel of switching between directions.

When it looked like he was tiring, Erik straightened, lowering his hands. "Go drink some water; cool down. We're done for tonight."

Xavier only nodded, breathing heavily, and turned away. Erik debated with himself for a minute before calling after him, "Xavier!" He turned around. "Good work."

Xavier gave him a blindingly bright smile and headed for his things along the wall, a little bounce in his step. Erik followed after a moment, wondering why that smile made him feel a little nauseated.

The next week, Erik had changed it up. Instead of running the track inside, he "invited" Charles to run with him early in the morning every other day. Running outside was almost worse, though, Charles thought. On the track, it was level and just one giant circle, no weather to worry about. Outside on the sidewalk…it was bumpy, noisy, there was weather to deal with, traffic, it was hilly—my god it was hilly, more so than he'd ever realized. Erik would turn in random directions, not following any sort of path that Charles could divine, around corners and around people, and, of course, that one horrible morning Erik had made him run up a set of steps in the park. Charles had begged for a break after that one. But…thinking back on it now, he had noticed he was getting better. Less out of breath.

Charles was currently texting Kevin, trying to explain that he couldn't make it to their date this Saturday. Not only was he absolutely exhausted from training, but he was now behind on his grading and lesson plans. And, of course, Erik had overruled any objections and told him no more outings unless they were campaign- or school-related, so. Pretty much ruled out date night. Which Kevin did not like but what could he do? Charles sighed. He hadn't envisioned this many complications in his life when he decided to run for the presidency. He'd only been thinking of the good he could do.

He glanced at the clock and sighed again. After midnight. His phone buzzed finally and he opened it to see what Kevin had said to his apology.

He stared at his phone for a good few minutes before it sunk in. What?

Kevin's text read:

I can't do this anymore, Charles. You're always busy and

I feel like I'm the last thing on your mind when you're

the first on mine. I'm sorry, but I have to end this.

Goodbye. Good luck with the campaign.

Charles blinked a few times. "Did I just get dumped, over text?" he said, his voice filled with disbelief. Oh my god, I just got dumped. He lowered the phone, still staring at it blankly.

After a few minutes he left his bedroom and walked down the hall. He stood in the living room for a bit, smiling slightly at the sight of Alex passed out on the couch. Scott and Erik were in the war room, having bought a cot for the third person to use.

Charles entered the kitchen, intending to make some tea and sit for a bit. He knew the whistle of the teapot wouldn't wake Alex so he filled it and set it to steep. When it started whistling, he got out his favorite mug, filled it, added milk and sugar and sat at the table, staring out at nothing and trying to figure out just where he went wrong in his relationship with Kevin. Why did Kevin never say anything before now?

His thoughts spiraled for a while as he sat and drank. It hurt, being broken up with, but not as hurt as he'd thought he'd be. That was a revelation, he realized, setting his mug down. Was he not in love with Kevin? Had he not been for a while? Is that why this didn't hurt?

"What are you doing up?" a quiet voice broke into his thoughts and he looked round to see Erik standing there in his pajamas.

"I could ask the same thing of you," Xavier responded, quiet.

Erik replied, "My watch."

"Oh," and Xavier turned back to his contemplation of his cup.

Erik studied him. Something wasn't right. Xavier didn't normally stay up this late, nor was he usually this closemouthed. He moved to the kitchen and made a quick cup of coffee then came back to join the professor. For some reason, he wanted to know what was wrong; wanted to fix it. "All right," he said finally. "What is it?"

Xavier looked up, startled. "Hmm?"

"What's on your mind?" Perhaps he should've eased into it, but that wasn't his way.

Xavier just smiled a little and shook his head. "Couldn't sleep."

"Why not?"

He shrugged but didn't answer. Erik took a sip of his coffee, trying to wake up enough to try and figure this out. Xavier talked all the time, and when he didn't was a cause for concern. The fact that he didn't immediately answer was a bit more worrying than Erik had thought it would be. His gaze landed on a chess board on the bookshelf and smiled to himself. That'd do the trick.

Xavier didn't react when he got up to get the board and box of pieces; not until Erik spilled the pieces onto the table. Then he looked up, confused.

Erik shrugged as he pulled out the chair next to Xavier. "You can't sleep; I'm on duty. Fancy a game?"

Xavier smiled faintly, reaching out to grab the white queen. "I didn't know you played."

He started setting up the black pieces, guessing that Xavier had chosen white. "Used to play with my former partner. Now Scott plays with me occasionally."

Xavier started setting up his own pieces. "I used to play with Raven, but she's really not a fan of the game. I usually play online, nowadays."

Erik nodded, leaning back and reaching for his coffee. "White goes first."

Xavier slid a pawn across two squares. Erik did the same and they played for a couple minutes before he ventured into conversation again. "Feel like telling me what's wrong?"

Focused on the board, Xavier didn't respond for a minute. "Nothing's wrong, really. Just…a bit surprising, I suppose." Erik waited. Xavier moved a knight before informing him quietly, "Kevin broke up with me."

Erik stared at him. Of all the things he'd been thinking, that had not been one of them. Crap, what did one say to that? "I'm sorry?" he ventured.

Xavier glanced up at him briefly. "The strange thing is…I'm not really that affected by it. I mean, yes, it does majorly suck to be dumped by text, but I feel like I should feel worse, you know? Does that make me a bad person?"

Erik was grateful it was his move. Xavier, a bad person? "Never." Shit. That was a kneejerk response. But Xavier chuckled.

"Thank you for that, my friend." Xavier took a sip of his tea. "I suppose you'll prefer it this way, not having to worry about my going out on dates."

Erik asked, "Is that why he dumped you?"

"One of the reasons. Not being able to go out as often as he liked; or at all. I didn't treat him as well as I should have, I realize that now."

"Bullshit," Erik retorted. "If someone wants to be with you, they'll find a way. Did the two of you never think of having date night in? Rent a movie and order takeout or cook something here?"

Xavier stared at him, his blue eyes bright. "I can't believe that never came up. We just always went out."

"Then screw him. He clearly needed you more than you needed him." Wait, when did I start giving out relationship advice?

"I suppose I always have been rather self-sufficient when it comes to love," Xavier mused, toggling his bishop back and forth on a square. "Other than Raven, obviously."

"You two are closer than other siblings I've seen," Erik noted.

"Probably because we are, despite not being related. The day my parents adopted her was one of the best days of my life," Xavier said with a fond smile.

"Were you always this close?"

"Not really. I basically raised her but we weren't close like this until my mother remarried. Kurt was…difficult, to live with. His son, more so."

Erik frowned. "Cain, right?"

"Yes."

"I take it you two didn't get along." He was fishing for information but clearly Xavier didn't realize.

Xavier finally moved the bishop. "That would be an understatement. From the second we met, Cain hated me. Never could figure out why. Kurt wasn't all that enamored of us, either. He only married my mother for our money, though I don't think she ever realized that."

Erik studied the board and planned his next move, both in chess and in the conversation. That was twice now Xavier had mentioned taking care of himself growing up. "You don't mention the rest of your family much."

Xavier shrugged. "They're not important. My stepfather and stepbrother were never family to me, and my mother drifted off once my father died."

"I know the feeling. I lost my parents when I was a teenager."

"Oh, Erik. I'm so sorry. What happened?"

"They were killed by a drunk driver. Heading home from somewhere and the other car plowed right into them. I still have nightmares about arriving at the scene." Erik stopped, choked up suddenly. His hand hovered over the pieces on the board. He'd never voluntarily told anyone about his parents.

A hand rested gently on top of his other hand and he met Xavier's gentle, concerned gaze. "Oh, Erik. That's horrible; I'm so terribly sorry to hear that."

Erik cleared his throat. "It was years ago."

"Yes, but the pain never truly fades, does it," Xavier said softly, knowingly.

"Your father?"

"I was too young to remember his death but that doesn't mean I don't miss him. I don't feel it as much as you do, but then, I had other things to deal with."

Erik tilted his head. "Like what?"

Xavier pulled his hand back and took a drink of his tea, winced. "Cold tea, ugh." In a falsely bright tone, he said, "Is it your move or mine?"

He narrowed his eyes, suspecting something bad if Xavier was avoiding it. Especially with the previous mention of his stepfamily's dislike. "Mine. Like what, Xavier?"

"You don't like me, do you, Erik?"

"What?" Erik blinked, blindsided.

Xavier repeated, "You don't like me, do you?"

"That's a loaded question."

Xavier chuckled a little. "But you don't."

"Is that a question or a statement?"

Xavier shrugged. "It's just, well, you never use my first name. Everyone else does, but you never do. Why is that? Have I done something to offend you?" He seemed truly in earnest.

"No. It's not you." I don't think you could offend me if you tried. "I try not to get personal with assignments. Ends up badly for all involved."

Xavier tilted his head. "Did something happen?"

Erik shook his head, pointed at him. "We're talking about your past, not mine."

"We could talk about yours, if you like."

"Another time. For now, I am growing increasingly interested in yours."

Xavier looked down. "It's not something I like to share."

"I won't tell anyone," Erik promised, despite himself. He meant it, too. Damn, he was getting far too fond of the professor.

Xavier met his eyes for a long moment. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it for he said, "Kurt was a stickler for rules, only they seemed to change to suit him. Whenever I did something he didn't like or broke a rule—and that happened more often than you would think—he hit me. Mostly with his hand, but other things as well. Tried to hit Raven too, but I soon stopped that, taking the blows meant for her. Cain joined in once we were older; he was built much more solidly than I was. Am. Mother either wouldn't do anything or she didn't know so I protected Raven as best I could. As soon as I was old enough, I left. Took her with me when I could." Charles shrugged, sipped at his tea, despite his earlier statement of its temperature. "Your move, I think, Erik."

Erik could only stare, his mouth hanging open. When he finally spoke, what came out was not what he'd expected. "How did you turn out so nice?"

Charles turned red. "Um, thank you? I suppose I have Raven and my friends to thank for that."

"This is why you're so sure you can defend yourself," Erik said slowly. "Because you're used to doing it."

"Do you mind if we change the subject now? I don't really like thinking on that time if I can."

Erik could readily understand why. "Of course." He moved a piece and chose a lighter topic. "Favorite book?"

Charles grinned. "Sure you have time for the list?"

Erik returned the grin. "If you have time for mine."

Charles' eyes sparkled, something Erik realized he'd missed. They continued to talk as they played. Having shared secrets like those melted some of the barriers between them.

"Check mate," Erik said triumphantly some time later.

Charles twisted his mouth wryly and tipped his king over. "Well done, my friend. I haven't lost in a while."

"Next time." He glanced at the clock. "You should get some sleep before you have to teach tomorrow."

"Today, I think," Charles said with a smile but got to his feet just the same. "Thank you, Erik. For the game, and for listening."

"My pleasure, Charles. Goodnight." Erik started to clean up the chess game and so missed the fact that Charles smiled widely, blushing.

Charles replied softly, "Goodnight, Erik."

Charles landed flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

Erik's face entered his field of vision. "You okay to keep going?"

Charles sat up slowly, the world spinning a bit. "How many times is it now?"

"Five. You okay?"

Charles ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Erik's concern would be more touching if he hadn't been the reason Charles kept landing on his back. "Let's keep going."

Erik offered him a hand up—which he accepted. "You're getting better, if it helps," Erik offered. "I'm not knocking you down nearly as quickly."

"Gee, thanks," Charles muttered. "That's great for my confidence."

Erik bumped his shoulder lightly. "For someone who's never had to hit another person before, you're doing great. Come on; one more round and then we'll head upstairs."

Charles bit back a groan as he moved his aching body into position, fists raised. He'd never had so much physical exercise in his entire life as he had these past three weeks. First the running, then the weightlifting, then punching and kicking and learning how to fall. He'd been sparring with Erik now for a few days, with occasional rounds with Alex or Scott. Surprisingly, Erik was nicer to him during this time than he was all day.

Erik's fist flashed past his face in a rush of wind. "How many times do I have to tell you to pay attention?"

Charles blinked. "Sorry. I was thinking."

"I know. Stop it. Fighting is more instinct than anything; just let yourself feel it."

Erik got strangely philosophical during their lessons, too. Charles took a breath and nodded. Erik's hand flew at him and Charles ducked, sliding to the right and raising his left hand to block the next blow.

Erik nodded in approval of the tactic even as Charles tried a right. He knew there were technical terms for them but Erik had only focused on connecting punches. Erik dodged it and slipped around his side. Charles turned with him and got nailed in the side.

He lost his breath for a moment and Erik instructed, "Watch my chest. I told you; that will tell you about your opponent's next move much more clearly than watching his hands or face. It'll give you a few extra seconds to make a move; seconds that could save your life."

Charles was going to hear Erik's speeches in his dreams, he was almost 100% sure of that.

They kept going, Erik landing more hits, Charles landing every one in five or so hits. Every now and then, Erik would throw out a kick and Charles' concentration would falter. Charles didn't even bother attempting to kick him, knowing that would throw him off balance.

Then, eventually, he threw a punch, managed to hit Erik's left shoulder but missed Erik's foot coming out of nowhere and he landed on his back again with a thump.

Erik chuckled from above him. "I think that was your best round yet."

Charles took the proffered hand and got to his feet with Erik's help. He rubbed the back of his head a tad ruefully. "You do realize it hurts to fall, right?"

"Yup." Erik walked off the mat and Charles followed, a bit slower. Erik tossed him a water bottle and he drank half of it in one go.

"Am I really getting better?" he asked, trying not to sound like he was fishing for a compliment.

Erik lowered the water bottle and nodded. "You are. You're a quick learner, take criticism well, and you actually have a bit of natural ability. You're doing fine, Charles."

His stomach flipped at Erik's use of his first name. He did it so rarely that Charles treasured every instance. It was funny how Charles was noticing all of these reactions he was having when he was around Erik that he hadn't noticed before. Maybe it was because he and Kevin were no longer together but Charles felt almost drawn towards Erik, like the agent was some sort of magnet Charles couldn't stay away from.

They gathered up the brothers and headed upstairs to his apartment in comfortable silence, broken only by the intermittent bickering of Scott and Alex.

"For the love of god, shut up!" Erik finally shouted over his shoulder as they approached his apartment door and Charles bit back a grin. Erik's patience had clearly snapped.

Charles dug his keys out and opened the door, noticing the white envelope on the carpet as he did so. "Hmm, wonder if someone else got my mail…" he mused, kneeling down to pick it up.

Erik barked quickly, "Don't touch it!"

Charles looked up at him, startled, his hand hovering inches above the paper. "What? Why not?"

Erik wrapped a hand around his upper arm and hauled him to his feet. "Would you listen when I tell you to do something? Preferably without questioning it or complaining?"

He sounded faintly exasperated and Charles grinned up at him. "If I did that, we would never talk." The corners of Erik's mouth twitched slightly and Charles knew he was trying not to smile.

Scott grabbed a tissue and picked up the envelope, opening it carefully without touching it. Charles watched, intrigued and a bit annoyed that they were opening a letter clearly addressed to him.

Scott pulled the paper out of the envelope, unfolded it, read it, and then silently handed it to Erik. Charles leaned over to read it and his mouth dropped open.

Erik said curtly, "Call the girls. I want a sit rep, now."

Scott was already on the phone. Alex said, "Erik? What's it say?"

"It's another one like we found on the hood of the car on campus," Erik said, pulling Charles further into the room and slamming the door shut. "Only this time it says if Charles doesn't drop out, they'll go after his sister."

Happy Holidays, everyone!