Three weeks later

"GO, BANSHEE!" Alex screamed at the top of his lungs, his heart pumping wildly as his friend flashed past him on his third lap. A sonic scream ripped through the air, momentarily hitting Alex's eardrums with enough force to break it. He didn't cringe, well used to it by now. A second later, the quick flutter of wings signaled Angel as she also passed the third lap.

"Come on Angel!" Raven whooped from next to him, waving her arms in the air as they watched the two flying mutants whip around the satellite dish. Next to her, Azazel stood stoic and silent, but in his eyes Alex could see excitement and genuine enjoyment (it had only taken them a week and a half to get it out of him) there, and perhaps also content. Next to him Riptide stood like a kid, grasping unto the railing of the balcony and watching Banshee's every twist and turn intensely.

He would growl when Banshee missed a tight turn; muttering a sincere 'oh, come on!' and slam his hands down when he would get ahead, raising his arms as if that mere gesture announced his imminent victory. It was just like a football game. Behind them, seated on a pull-out lawn chair was Emma Frost.

She was ignoring the proceedings with debonair, flipping through a fashion magazine while sipping the martini she had stolen from Charles's secret stash. Sitting next to her in a very beaten up lawn chair was Hank.

He was scribbling way at a water-worn piece of paper with a pencil, glancing up only occasionally. He was supposed to be keeping track of who was winning, but Alex knew that the other mutant was secretly working out a cure for Charles's legs. It had been all he spent his time doing since they had gotten back to the mansion two weeks earlier.

After the ship had sunk, they had devised an unsteady, flawed plan to return to the mansion, and any day now Alex knew he might wake up and find that their gentle accord had vanished beneath the weight of outside happenings. Erik and Raven had agreed to return to the mansion with them, for the sole reason of 'we've seen what happens when you five are left alone' as Raven had joked, gesturing to the storm around them.

Really, Alex knew that Charles's near death had scared both Erik and Raven, enough to bring Angel, Riptide and Azazel with them, much to the anger of the other mutant revolutionaries.

Moira and Michael, on the other hand, had agreed to remain with the soldiers and return to Washington D.C, where they would plead on the behalf of the mutant cause before Congress. Erik had sneered at that, telling the two that their efforts would come to nothing, but Michael and Moira had been persistent.

"In the meanwhile," Moira had told them before joining Michael in the general's lifeboat. "Stay low, and don't call attention to yourselves. I'll try to keep the CIA off your tail," she had smiled, bitterly. "I don't know how well that will work out," but it seemed as if Moira's efforts had been successful so far, for Alex had seen nothing out of the ordinary, probably because the CIA didn't know where they were.

Erik worried every day that Moira might tell them, but Charles assured him that Moira would rather die than give away their secret location. So the four of them had returned in sub to New York, stopping off (It was Erik's idea) to free Ms. Frost.

Why they did that had not been explained by either Charles or Erik. At arrival, almost everyone had slept for nearly two days, exhausted, before getting up again and trying not to eliminate each other. Not that Alex was complaining overly though. He enjoyed the company of the other mutants.

True, sometimes it was tense considering the fact that Angel had betrayed them; Riptide had tried to kill them; Emma was fond of reading everyone's thoughts aloud; Erik still wanted world domination; Raven was still angry at Charles and just generally because all of them were still getting used to one another; but nothing had blown up yet.

Yet.

And at Erik's insistence, they had begun training again, testing out their powers and learning more each day. Sean had been the one to suggest this racing game between him and Angel, and it had become the new favorite sport of the house. Close behind it was the match of Azazel and Raven, both of whom had superior flexibility and gymnastics skills and thus were great hand-to-hand combat fighters.

Alex and Riptide both enjoyed boxing, and so frequently went at that together. Hank liked discussing astrophysics with Emma, who, unbeknownst to all of them, had been a science teacher before joining up with Shaw. Why she had joined was not given, but she and Hank could go at discussion all day long, and if Charles was added to the mix? The three of them were known to stay up until three o clock in the morning arguing over Newton's laws of physics…Or something like that. Alex didn't really like science.

Charles and Erik still played chess every evening in the study, and Erik had begun installing an elevator in the house for Charles's wheelchair. All of them, so far, had found some way to get along.

That did not stop Alex from being aware that it was only a matter of time before politics got in the way. Mutants had been exposed after all, and there was even footage –who released it was unknown- of them in Cuba.

Granted, it was only ten second snapshots of Sean flying, his sonic screams booming through the television, Azazel and Riptide caught on camera at the CIA headquarters killing those men, Erik bending the submarine… The scariest pictures possible, basically.

No pictures of the girls, which had offended them. None of him or Charles, with his harmless English face. It did not matter that they had been trying to save the world, as Moira and Michal desperately tried to explain on the radio; but rather that they were freaks, and inconsistencies in the subtle perfection of humanity. At least, that's what the radio hosts told them in reply.

Eventually Erik had just crushed the radio.

So they were out of entertainment, and had resorted to beating each other up instead. Alex, each day, tried to put it out of his mind what might happen any day now, or where his brother was, or what any of them were going to do if the CIA did come… He was getting better at ignoring the danger they were in. That or he was just getting used to the feeling of always being in danger, his shoulders starting to relax each passing minute. If they came, then they came. If they died, then they died.

At least we'll die having fun, he thought with some satisfaction as Banshee's scream ripped through the air. Angel coughed a fire loogie at him from before, which he deftly swiveled around before turning on his back, arms outstretched and delivered a high-pitched hiccup that acted like a punch. Having received bruises already, they knew each other's tricks. "To the left, you fool!" Riptide grunted beneath his breath, coaching softly. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Wooh! Come on Sean! One more lap!" He called. He saw Sean give a little wave of acknowledgment before he passed them again, whooshing the air right from their lungs. Angel was close enough to grab his legs. Raven leaned over the edge, laughing.

"Yeah, Angel! You got this!" She hurrahed. Alex half turned, and called teasingly out to Hank.

"Hey, bozo! Aren't you gonna come cheer on our man?" He asked. Hank raised a fist half-heartedly, not looking up from his work.

"Yah, yah, someone defy gravity today!" He stated without much excitement, eyes skimming over the chemical properties. Raven laughed.

"Nice rhyme, Beast!" She congratulated good-naturedly. Now the bozo looked up, and he gave her a feral grin.

"Isn't it?" he agreed.

"Maybe," Emma remarked smoothly, pushing her sunglasses onto her face with one manicured finger. "But your formula is missing a carbon," Hank's eyes immediately went back down to his work. Raven's face fell as she was once again reminded of where Hank's priorities laid and Alex had to admit that some part of him felt a cold approval because of it. After all, he still did not think it right that Erik and Raven had just up and ditched in the first place.

Those thoughts were neatly pulled away by a winner however. Raven nearly jumped off the balcony as she screamed in victory. Riptide was saved from doing the same in defeat by Alex's hand on his shoulder. The other mutant cursed in Spanish. Azazel let out a satisfied harrumph, eyes sparkling.

"Ah, come on Banshee! That was lame!" Alex sighed when Sean landed on the balcony gasping for breath Angel landed next to him, flicking a piece of dark raven hair from her face gracefully. Alex tried not to stare.

"Maybe next time fly-boy," Angel purred, patting Sean on the back. Raven shook her head and lopped an arm through Angel's companionably.

"You try it then!" Sean replied, throwing him a dirty look. Alex chuckled.

"Maybe I will!" He cried. "Hey Beast-can you fix me up a flying suit too?" he asked. Hank waved a dismissive hand.

"Give me twenty minutes and a coffee. It'll be done," he promised casually. Azazel snorted. Emma hmm'ed beneath her breath.

"If you're doing that, I want to help," she declared. "So give us ten minutes-and a vodka," she lowered her eyes to hide beneath eyelashes, and Alex thought he saw a glint of diamond on her skin. "For scientific purposes," Hank barked out a laugh. Alex grinned, settling an arm around Sean's shoulders as Raven rolled her eyes; Angel giggled; Azazel cocked his eyebrows; Emma smiled flirtatiously and really, he could not remember ever having been so happy.

Charles was miserable.

Not in the regular way of being miserable; in which something does not go someone's way and the world seems dull for a bit before common sense kicked in and they reasoned out why the world was not so very bad. No. Charles's misery came from a deeper source.

His connection to all beings.

"Charles?"

Hilda's words came back to him now, as he sat in his family's study surrounded by innumerable books. Shelves and shelves that touched the high Victorian ceiling and old leather bound books that smelled of everything from citrus to cedar to cigar pipes. He had never read them all, doubted he ever would. Suddenly, it seemed less important that he should. Not while people were out there suffering

People were dying.

"Touching a person's mind is one thing. But what he did with you? Touching the soul...? He has already seen the world burning, Josef… I don't want him to know what the souls of this world are doing too."

Now Charles saw the merciful wisdom of Hilda's statement. One of the proudest days of his life had been the day he had learned to connect to people in an intimate and special way. He did not regret having learned it. He regretted what he learned from it.

"Charles?"

And Charles was shut away in this prison, again. Not only that though, he was confined to a chair, sitting, imprisoned in a single position and place for the rest of his days. Charles struggled to stay above the water of self-pity, but the present state of things did not help. He wanted to help.

It had not taken Hank long to make a miniature Cerebro underground. Charles had not allowed Emma anywhere near it (he still didn't trust her) though he had gone into it himself, and seen into minds once again.

Once again he was reminded of how many mutants were still out there, waiting. Their hopes, dreams, fears and ambitions melded into their DNA more strongly than any chromosome. He wanted a chance to nourish those genes, better than he had done Raven. He wanted to help.

"Charles!" The telepath jumped, startled by the voce that suddenly came as if from nowhere. He blinked himself out of his stupor to see Erik sitting across from him at the small table where the other man had already set up the chess table. Behind him, light from the setting sun was coming in through the large windows, landing on Erik's back and setting his dark auburn hair aflame with a halo. He cocked an Erik like eyebrow at Charles's startled look, scowling.

Charles blushed, embarrassed. Usually his telepathy made it all too easy to know exactly where everyone was. The others often did not even announce their presence in the room when they came in, but trusted him to know. This time, though, he had been completely unaware of Erik's coming or going due to his own runaway musings. He shook his head and glanced down at the full chess set.

"Forgive me," he mumbled, taking his first pawn. If Erik hadn't started yet it meant he wanted Charles too. Erik was studying him candidly.

"Are you alright?" He inquired. "You're not usually so… Preoccupied," he said. Charles opened his mouth; his first impulse being to say that he was perfectly fine, but then he recalled whom he was speaking too. This was Erik; not Raven. He did not have to protect this friend from harsh truths here. Erik had lived them already.

"I'm just thinking," he admitted with a sigh. Erik nodded and took up his own pawn. The beginning never changed; it was already structured into tradition and dictum between them.

"I assume it has something to do with the humans?" he inquired. Charles smiled. Of course that would be what was on Erik's mind.

"Not this time, my friend," he said. Erik glanced up, surprised.

"Well, then," he smoothly set his next piece into place before leaning back in his chair. He glanced at the bottle of red wine he had set down next to him, a question in his eyes. Charles felt as if he needed something stronger than wine, but nodded. He kept his eyes on the chess set as he examined the board wonderingly. The last few times he and Erik had played; they had either never finished or been at a stalemate. One of these days, Charles thought, a competitive edge kicking in. One of these days I will win.

Erik poured himself a small glass of wine, then Charles one. He handed him the glass. Charles nodded his thanks. "What are you thinking about?" Erik inquired once they both had taken a sip.

Charles felt the wine flow own his tongue and his throat, silky and fruity. He leaned back in his own wheelchair, setting his elbows upon the arm rest and stroking his chin thoughtfully. He was silent a moment; gathering his thoughts. Erik waited, never taking his eyes from his face as if the secrets of the universe were to be found upon Charles's brow. "Death," the telepath replied, at last.

Erik had made his first actual move, setting the queen into pace. Charles smiled he had predicted his friend might do that, surprised by the response Charles had given.

If Erik was taken aback, he did not show it. He merely nodded and swung one leg over his knees, both arms resting on his armrests. "Understandable," he replied without much alarm. "After all, how many times have you almost died this past month, Charles? Forty-seven?" he inquired. Charles smiled and gave Erik a dry look.

"Two," he corrected.

"Hmmm, it felt like forty-seven," Erik informed him. Charles chuckled softly and moved his Knight.

"Speaking of which," he piped up, as something occurred to him. He flashed a grin. "I don't believe that I have yet thanked you for saving my life Erik," the metal-bender shrugged, taking another delicate sip of wine that belied his violent personality.

"You'd do the same for me," he pointed out. "Have, in fact," Charles's brow furrowed.

"I hope you didn't risk yourself out of some misplaced sense of gratitude, Erik," he said, slightly offended by the thought that his life had been saved for what he had done and not who he was. Erik, however, shook his head.

"I would have just taken care of Raven and called us even, if that were the case," he grunted, candidly. "I came back for the boys' sake really, and it would have been bad form just to let you drown," Charles snickered softly recognizing the teasing tone in Erik's voice.

"Very rude," he agreed. "Nevertheless, thank you for saving me Erik," he said sincerely, feeling a warm affection grow in his chest for this man who had displayed the goodness that Charles knew was there.

Erik nodded and looked up, offering his cup to clink. "It's what friends are for, isn't it?" he asked, a bit hesitantly as if he did not know whether or not Charles would agree with him.

The telepath readily clinked his cup against Erik's in a toast. "Indeed," he established. Then, he gazed back down at the board, shaking his head at Erik's move. He tsked beneath his breath. Only half of their minds were on the game. He knew what Erik was thinking, and he had to distract him before he voiced his hatreds aloud.

"There are others," he stated suddenly. Erik set his empty cup down and poured himself another glass, waiting patiently for the rest of the thought to come. It had occurred to Charles that besides himself, Erik was possibly one of the most patient people in the world.

"I feel them every time that I put on Cerebro," he mumbled. "Mutants, Erik. Children like Raven and Hank, afraid to show their true forms for fear of what others might think. Because they believe themselves to be hideous" he looked up, passion growing in his voice and expanding in his soul until it consumed him in one piece.

"Children like Alex and Sean, afraid to use or even acknowledge their powers because they're terrified that they might hurt someone. Children like Riptide, Angel and Emma who may hide in plain sight but always feel alone and… Lost,"

He wanted to help. "Children like us," his fists clenched as memories flooded his conscious, years of feeling trapped, afraid, desperate to survive and protect the ones he cared about. "Whose parents hate them or use them. Who wander the streets alone filled with anger and pain. I feel their pain, and it tears me apart," his eyes blazed, and he felt in Erik's mind the same blazing fury that such things were allowed to occur. It wasn't right.

"We have to do something," he stated with finality. Erik gave him a look that said 'and just what have I been talking about all this time?' to which Charles shook his head.

"I don't mean annihilate the humans, Erik," he informed him sharply. "I mean do what we've done here," he gestured outside to the fading sun, where most of the other residents were still outside practicing and improving. "Take them in. Train them to use their powers constructively, teach them that their lives do matter and that they're perfectly fine the way they are," he said.

"Teach them how to defend themselves," Erik added. Charles nodded, reluctantly.

"They'll need it in the times ahead," he accepted. "But for right now what those mutants need is a sanctuary, Erik. And, well, this mansion is empty…" he trailed off, hoping Erik might understand. The other had sat up sometime during Charles's speech, the chess board forgotten between them. He eyed him curiously.

"What are you saying Charles?"

Charles inhaled a deep breath. What was he saying? "I want to start a school for mutants," the words came out of his mouth before the thought was fully formed. "A boarding school. Goodness knows there are enough rooms in here for hundreds of children, and still more for classes," his mind began to churn, the idea taking shape and form in his mind until he could see it, could taste it and know that it was the right thing to do. "If we just move some things around, create a nice…"

Erik was smiling with amusement, but Charles knew he had tickled his interest. "Woah, slow down there Charles," Erik told him calmly. "This is a good idea, but how many children are we talking about here? And who will teach them?" He asked.

Charles blinked. "Why us, of course," he said.

"For hundreds of children?" Charles groaned, seeing the logic of this. They couldn't very well have two hundred people in one class.

"Why are you spoiling my fun, Erik?" he demanded. "You're like an annoying older sibling," which he basically was, in a way. Erik snorted.

"Just," he raised his cup passively. "Pointing out options. We might want to start out with only a couple children, Charles. Like we did here. Once that batch is trained, we will have more teachers. We'll build up slowly, you see?" Charles did see the sense of it. He also heard something else.

"You keep using the word we," he pointed out, cautiously. "Does that mean that you are on board with this, Erik?" He asked. Erik's smile fell into a contemplative expression. He looked down at the board, thinking. Charles leaned back allowing him the time.

Finally, when the sun had sank lower into the sky and the other mutants were heard downstairs raiding Charles's kitchen, Erik sighed. "I wish I could, but I can't Charles," he said at last. "I agree with what you're doing, but this is more your duty in our cause," he shook his head.

"I can't just wait in this mansion, hidden, and teach children when the world they'll be entering isn't like it is here," he gestured outside, downstairs, through the house. "It's peaceful here, isolated, safe. The world isn't like that. I would forever be blaming myself for not making it right," he admitted. Charles nodded. Honestly, he had been expecting something like that from Erik.

"You won't hide anymore," he added, remembering Raven's zealous speech on the subject of hiding. Erik seemed relieved that he had phrased it so simply.

"Never again," he agreed with determined glint in his yes that looked cannily like steel.

Chares stroked his chin. "I see. It's alright. I suspect some others"-like his sister-"will agree with your sentiments. I have a different task I think would benefit from your expertise. One outside of these walls," Erik cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, but Charles only smiled mysteriously.

He would supply details later; when he knew them preferably. The glint softened. "But it would be a pleasure to help you begin, Charles," Erik continued. "Besides," he took a last swig of his wine. "I still have to finish that elevator," he concluded. Charles chuckled.

"Good to know you have priorities," he laughed. "And thank you, Erik. We'll have to speak it over with the others. They can begin rebuilding while we retrieve the children," Erik snorted.

"You trust them not to destroy the house in our absence?" He asked.

Charles grinned. "I hope they won't, rather. I imagine Hank would love to begin renovating the floor plans of this old mansion. It will give him something to do besides work on that cure he's convinced exists," he said.

Erik glanced up. "He's done the impossible before, Charles," he pointed out mildly.

"Not this time," he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, sadness coming back up and the waters of self-pity threatening to take him.

"You don't want a cure?"

"I don't want to hope for something that might never happen, and there are other ways for Hank to expend his genius than on me," Erik shook his head, looking as if he wanted to argue, but wisely stayed silent.

Charles charged on. "Raven's been spending my money wisely for years. She knows how to shop for needed supplies. I'm sure Emma can show us how to organize paperwork, being a teacher and everything," then, as another odd fact in his ever odd life occurred to him, he asked: "Erik why exactly did we free Emma? You never explained that," and Charles disliked not being explained too, especially when it came to women who were murderous, but this was Erik; and he had just saved Charles's life when he suggested it, and technically it had been his submarine so Charles had not protested.

Now that she was in his house, however…

Erik shrugged. "If we get attacked, we'll need all the help we can get," he replied smoothly. Charles narrowed his eyes as his telepathy told him a different thing. Lies were always easiest to pick up, and for goodness sakes, did Erik suppose he was that naïve?

"Oh?" he inquired, suspiciously. "I believe you mean that when you go forward with your plans of world domination, you figured a telepath would be a handy resource, considering the fact that I'm not coming," Erik didn't deny it. He merely grinned roguishly and shrugged.

"Intuitive as always, my friend," he congratulated. "And that is my plan-unless you can come up with an alternative way of defending ourselves," he challenged.

"I'll get right on that then," he promised, with some dryness. Now Erik was even inadvertently bossing him around like an older sibling. He was the one with the power to control minds. And read them, which meant that….

"She is very pretty, isn't she?" he asked, studying Erik teasingly. His prying was justly rewarded when Erik gave him a venomous glance.

"What are you talking about Charles?" Then added, with the same teasing tone: "I think she's just a bit too old for you," he pointed out. Charles waved a dismissive hand, wondering how they had gone from talking about world domination to schooling to women.

"You don't even know how old I am, Erik…"

"Twenty-one."

"Raven told you that. Anyway, I agree. But she isn't too old for you, and hmm, you two do share some personality traits," he mused. Erik crossed his arms.

"Like what?" he demanded.

Charles counted them on his fingers. "Oh, I don't know. Both of you are quite stubborn, fierce, vengeful, impetuous, independent…" Erik interrupted him briskly.

"How do you know all these things Charles?" He asked irritably. Charles was having fun.

He waved a hand over his head. "Take a guess," he dared.

Erik's face was beet red by this time, with aggravation or mortification Charles didn't really care. "So you just go around reading minds?"

Now it was Charles's turn to act surprised. "Erik, have you honestly been unaware that I do that this entire time?" He asked.

"I thought you stopped reading minds after that fiasco with Raven!"

"I stopped reading Raven's mind. Not yours," Charles informed him cheerfully.

"Get out of my head, Charles!"

"I'm not in it! Your mind sends me projections of Emma naked about every fifteen seconds. So get out of my head, Erik!" Erik slammed a fist down on the table, now completely mortified.

"Damn you, Charles!"

Said person laughed, and could not remember ever having been so hopeful for the future.