Chapter Four

'Possession of this gold is illegal.' The bank manager says. 'Do you want me to call the police?'

The thick gold bar in front of Erik bears the Nazi mark. 'Let's not play this game.' Erik responds in French.

'Where did you get it?' The bank manager says. His eyes linger greedily on the gold.

'From my friends.' Erik has no friends. 'They recommended I come to your bank.'

This answer reassures the banker. 'Understood. You know our terms, sir?'

'Yes. And you should know mine.' Erik leans forward and a lethal edge enters his voice. 'This gold is all that is left of my people. It was their property. Pulled from their teeth. Melted from their hearts. This is blood money. And you can help me find the bastards responsible for it.'

Erik feels the gold of the man's watch move and he holds it back, tutting disappointedly. 'Do not touch the alarm. I need a Schmidt. Klaus Schmidt.'

The banker protests some more, but Erik loses his patience. He reaches out with his power, and every piece of metal in the room vibrates, ready to obey him. The bar of gold on the desk shudders, it would be so easy to drive it through the other man's chest.

The pewter inside the banker's heart vibrates too.

He feels it, of course he does. The banker clutches at his chest, staring in shock and fear. Erik tugs, just a little, and feels the pewter respond, shifting half an inch and pressing hard into his lungs.

'I could pull it free.' Erik threatens. 'I could rip your heart out through your throat and leave you a void. Where is Schmidt?'

'Argentina! Schmidt is in Argentina! Villa Gesell!'

Charles thrives at Oxford. He applies himself diligently; every professor is impressed with his work. One doddering old professor with a crinkled paper heart looks at him over a draft thesis and asks, 'Why do you want to be a geneticist, Mr. Xavier?'

'I want to know the future generations.'

In truth, he wants to be a beacon for any others like him, that in their confusion and desire to understand their abilities, they might find his thesis and come to him.

Maybe his heart is reaching out despite the leather cover.

Charles loves the bars and socialising. The free flowing liquor loosens inhibitions in the most delightful way. He loves the pretty young girls, who wear their hearts on their sleeves and smile at his flirtation.

But he keeps his heart tightly bound, held down by the strong buckle. He doesn't even let it out for Raven.

'Would you date me?'

She's asked these questions before, and Charles, would listen, and answer, every time.

'Of course I would, any young man would be lucky to have you. You're stunning, inside and out.'

'Looking like this.' Raven amends.

He finally looks up from his work and stutters. 'Blue?' The look Raven reads from his face must answer her question, because she sighs and he hurries to say, 'You are my oldest friend.'

'I am your only friend.'

They share a sardonic grin, taking comfort in the fact that even though they might be isolated, they are not alone.

'Well?' Raven prompts.

Charles looks deep within himself and feels the worn smooth leather wrapped around his gold heart. He asks the buckle, will you open for Raven Darkholme? The leather does not answer, will not unravel. He loves her, he always will, but the gold will not follow her smooth blue silk.

'I am incapable of thinking of you that way. You are like my sister; anything else would feel wrong.'

The world is changing. All around them, there are new policies and international tensions, social change, even the mutation in their blood.

An auburn haired woman seeks Charles out at the university bar, and his entire life changes.

The feel of another mind against his for the first time made Charles gasp aloud, the groan and clutch the boat's railing. She's diamond hard and solid, pushing him backwards, into his own body and away from Shaw's boat.

It's amazing and unexpected. His head is reeling from the shock and pain. There's another telepath.

He's useless now, disabled, ushered off the deck like a broken gun on the front line. He's halfway down the stairs when –

There's someone else. In the water.

Their first points of contact are as follows:

A mind in the water.

An unmistakable lump of gold behind him.

Arms around his neck and shoulder, tugging, a second pair of legs kicking. A chest to his back.

You can't. You'll drown. You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you're going to die. Please! Erik, calm your mind.

It was Erik's mind and Charles' heart that they first felt. They will continue to sense each other, through everything, mind and heart, always together.

Until the mind is wrapped in impenetrable metal and the heart cracks.