Four weeks later:

"Here, slide that bed right here against the window… Good… Alright, I think that's that," Raven said, smacking her lips with self-content. She watched as Hank deftly moved the small bed-covered in a pink quilt with small white flowers embroidered into the fabric- against the wall and grinned. Kitty's pink room was done, and hers was the last one that had been in need of being done.

Now all of the rooms had been decorated in a fashion which Raven hoped the other children would like as much as Scott had liked his forest green room. It was at times like these when Raven was glad to have a telepathic brother. So far over the past few weeks what Charles had done was to send her word whenever he got the favorite color of the next child and a rough mental image of what their dream room might contain based off of their personalities.

Ororo had chosen scarlet, Bobby ice blue, Kitty light pink, Jean sunbeam yellow, and Warren orange. So far, Rouge's had been her favorite, though they had had to scramble together her room at the last moment. Her favorite color was purple, and not lavender, but the royal, dark violet of velvet. Rogue had been a surprise, along with the other mutant that Erik had stumbled upon in a bar.

Logan had been pinning someone to a wall with steel claws, was how the story went when Azazel returned from bringing Charles a new pair of clothes for Rogue and a new shirt for Logan. About two second later Charles had sensed a girl following Logan out of the bar timidly, looking for somewhere to go and a ride to go there, but above all, some company of a person like her. The two had nabbed Logan and Rogue just a few minutes into their journey. Azazel (being the only one to pop in and actually see Wolverine) had insisted upon helping decorate his room himself.

"Simple," was what he said. "Very simple. And with a cooler in it for beer," Raven was unsure about how well Charles would take that, but she had obeyed. She figured Azazel probably knew more than she did. However, with that one repair, all of the rooms were ready for the children to come.

Raven grinned at Hank when he looked p, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "You know, Raven." Hank said, still persisting in calling her that name. "You might have gotten one of the others to do this for you. Say, Sean or Alex?" He wondered and Raven smiled. She knew how much Hank hated to be pulled away from his work, but this had been important.

Or perhaps not so very much. Part of it was just that she wanted to see him. Of course she couldn't say that though. They were both aware that one day, Hank and she might become enemies, estranged by separate beliefs and loyalties to very different men. "I could have," she agreed. "But they're downstairs helping Cassidy with the rest of the house," Raven had to hand it to her; Angel sure did know how to keep order. She had Sean cleaning the outside windows, Riptide doing dishes, Alex and Scott doing yard work, Emma and Azazel cooking and she herself was reorganizing their messy pantry. Raven and Hank had gotten off easy.

"Oh, yeah," Hank scratched the back of his head. "Emma is cooking?" He asked. Raven nodded, already excited for the home cooked meal. Emma had proved her prowess in the kitchen many times, and oddly enough Azazel seemed to come at a close second involving the kitchen.

They were the masters of it therefore; able to create and concoct any manner of meal in half the time it would have taken anyone else to do it. It was mid-day, Raven recalled. Which meant they would be making lunch and snacks. She wondered what it was to be. Hank licked his lips, opening his mouth to ask the same question when Emma's shout rang through the house. It made Raven's insides curl with equal parts nervousness and excitement.

"They're home!"

She and Hank both exchanged a look of surprise before dashing for the door in unison. They knew what that meant. Charles and Erik had returned.

With the new students in tow.

"Erik," that was Kitty again. Erik looked down patiently as he unbuckled her from her booster seat and gently helped her out of the car, aware that his face was expressionless. He saw a flash of large brown eyes staring at him with turbulent trepidation. All of the children seemed to have a special attachment to Charles, but Kitty being the youngest at five, did not mind him either.

She staggered from the car with stubby legs and stood there on the graveled rock, mouth set into an awed line as she observed the castle before her. "This is that place?" She gasped, pulling her small pink back pack closer to her body as if it were a shield. Erik remembered how massive and intimidating the mansion had looked the first time he saw it. He patted her head reassuringly.

"That's it," he told her, wondering at that slight lisp in place from the wiggly tooth in her mouth. He hoped Charles knew what to do when that tooth came out, because he would be the first to delegate the task of bloody tooth to another should the occasion arise. Erik nodded and stepped aside to allow Warren out.

The lanky, solemn ten-year-old with a mop of bright yellow hair was also staring wide-eyed at their new home. The feathers on his wings wiggled in the breeze. Disbelief rolled off him in waves, and it did not escape Erik's attention how he crept closer to him in unconscious fear. Warren had lived in a mansion before this-but it had been his father's and Erik well knew Warren's fear of his father. He patted his head too.

"You'll get used to it," he assured him.

"I dare say so," Charles agreed cheerfully as he wheeled himself around the side of the car. Jean and Ororo, both twelve, tailed him. Bobby and Rogue, the other eleven-year olds, got out beside Erik.

"There are people inside," Jean said in a small voice, as if she was unsure whether she should make her mutation so apparent. Once again, Erik's blood boiled to think that the humans had made these children hide their gifts, or fear themselves or be ashamed of something they had been born with.

"They're the others we've told you all about," he said as Logan, too, stepped out of the car. The older man- (though, in reality Charles said he merely looked old. He was actually a year younger than Erik) –grunted and wrinkled his nose when he saw the mansion.

"Fancy place you have here, Chuck," he told Charles sardonically. "You sure you ain't some government employee?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Erik rolled his eyes. He disliked Logan's lack of respect for anything and in particular was not overly fond of how he seemed determined to undermine Charles by not saying his actual name. The telepath, though, took no offense. He just grinned.

"Relatively," he chuckled as Ororo and Jean hung unto the sides of his wheelchair. "My family has just accumulated vast amounts of wealth over the centuries. Dating back to… some point in time. I didn't exactly read the history on it," a flash of something like indifferent anger-kept far from the plane of Charles normal countenance- surfaced. Then vanished like mist when Jean tugged at his arm and pointed.

A few birds sang in the trees around, swooping for worms. The grass smelt like fresh rain, and Sean had taken good care of it. Erik smiled, and felt a bit of his tenseness relax. He felt the same relief floating off of Charles.

We're home.

Yes, and Erik decided that it was time that they began moving. Even Logan looked cowed and unsure, having wandered everywhere in the world without end. The children, however, had probably never seen anywhere so grand, and they had so far been staying in cramped hotel quarters with Charles and Erik alone. The change would be strange for them.

He took the first steps, Charles at his side. Like ducklings, the others followed them silently, from the safety of the car to their new home. I told Emma that they're a bit frightened, Charles reported in his mind. I don't think she was paying me any mind, though. She's quite happy to see you. It was a struggle to keep the blush off his cheeks and refrain from giving Charles a swift knock upside the head. The other mutant had not let up teasing him about Emma since the day she had arrived, and Erik doubted he would stop any time soon.

He went up the front steps, using his powers to raise Charles up the porch. Ororo helped Kitty up the stone steps. Erik waited until they were all cramped in front of the door before unlocking it with a twist of his fingers and stepping inside.

He cocked both brows and stepped aside, pulling Charles with him when he noticed the homecoming. The banner is a nice touch, he thought as he noticed the multi-colored banner over the heads of the mutants waiting. Welcome home, indeed. Scott was almost bouncing up and down in his excitement, held by the firm grip of Alex upon his shoulder. The entire house had filed themselves on the stairs with smiles, or, in Azazel and Riptide's case, devious smirks.

For a moment, there was silence, as the future of mutant kind beheld the first proof of their not being alone. Having Erik and Charles was one thing, but an entire house of people like them? Warren's eyes were trained on Angel's glittering wings, his own quivering. Jean was staring at Emma as if she were an alien.

Then, Kitty frowned as if something confounded her and tugged at Charles's sleeve. "'fessor!" She cried. "She's blue! And he's blue, too!" She informed him, pointing to Hank and Raven. Hank cringed. Raven snickered.

Charles smiled. "That's a good observation, Kitty," he agreed. "Why don't you go say hello to them? They are very nice blue people," he suggested. Kitty stared at Charles as if he had spoken another tongue for a long moment before, setting her face in a stubborn sign of budding bravery she hiked her backpack up and marched over to where Hank and Raven stood. Looking suitably impressed by her bravado, the other children watched her anxiously, as if she were heading into the lion's den.

Kitty stopped before Raven and Hank, both of whom knelt down to her level, watching her curiously. "Hi," Kitty said instantly. "My name is Kitty-or, it's actually Catherine, but I like Kitty more- and I'm this many," she flashed five fingers proudly. Hank and Raven exchanged a glance of supreme amusement. Raven's face had 'she's so cute,' written all over it.

"Well, hello there Kitty. My name is Hank," Hank extended one large finger politely. Kitty shook it enthusiastically. She liked to fancy herself an adult and liked it when others did the same.

"And I'm Raven," a stunning smile that lit up Raven's cat-like eyes. "Welcome home," Kitty shook her finger too before turning around to the others, grinning, and waved them forward.

"Come on!" She said, now fully confident. "They don't bite!" Erik had to restrain an undignified snort of laughter at Kitty's bold declaration. With glances at Charles, who nodded consolingly, the other children then rushed forward like a tidal wave, unsure and eager at the same time. Jean went right to Emma and Warren up to Angel. Logan went at a more leisurely pace, but he was welcomed with just as much liveliness into the jumble of mutant greetings and introductions.

Wait for it, Charles said in Erik's mind. Three…Two…One… Erik wondered what he was waiting for. Then, he heard it. The inevitable question. "What can you do?" and then a startled shriek as Sean's high-pitched whistle rang through the air and broke a vase. Following shortly after was a controlled laser beam from Alex and Scott, twisting through the air to annihilate a different vase.

Charles sighed. "At least they waited until I returned," he stated with exasperation. Azazel's quick poof of red smoke filled the air as he vanished and reappeared elsewhere, blown away by Riptide's quick swirl of air and Angel's quick flitter of wings. Erik heard the painful crunch of Logan's claws sliding from their spot in his skin. A flash of blue fur and suddenly Hank was walking up the staircase railing with his feet gripping it like hands.

Delighted shrieks of laughter, deep exclamations of wonder and quick claps of admiration filled the air as everyone showed off their ability.

Erik clapped Charles on the shoulder, chest full of warm pride and exhausted pleasure. "I think we picked well, partner," he stated. Charles nodded pleasantly.

"Indeed. The day is yet over though, my friend," he told him. Erik glanced at him questioningly. Charles's smile grew and there was something temperate and happy in his eyes as he beckoned for Erik to follow him. "Come," he told him softly, his eyes still on the swelling family ahead.

"I have a gift for you," undoubtedly interested as to what Charles could have gotten him, and namely why, Erik followed Charles to the elevator and then upstairs, where the sounds of merry-making below were muffled by the floorboards. Without another word, Charles wheeled himself down to where Erik's room was.

"Well," Charles halted outside of Erik's closed door, waving him inside. "Go ahead," Erik gave Charles a strange look, to mask the butterflies of anticipation in his gut before he unlocked the locked door with a clench of his fist and stepped inside.

He gasped.

Though he had been living in it for some weeks now, the room had remained pretty much bare of any decorations or any signals that Erik had ever inhabited it. He had asked for the unembellished room, after all, assuming that he would not be spending more than a few weeks in it anyway. So Charles had given him this dusty chamber with white walls, a bed and a reading table.

Admittedly, Erik had never expected it to change, even as he had secretly yearned for something more… Personalized. However, never having had such a feeling before (he had never remained in one place long enough to want to make a mark on it) he had not mentioned it.

He should have known Charles would feel it.

His room had been transformed. It was so very much… Him, that only a man who had been inside of his head would know how right it was. In the place of stark white walls was a light brown the color of wet beach sand. His bed-formerly sprouting his worn travel blanket and sheets- now had a king bedspread of the darkest chestnut color. Erik didn't have to touch the fabric to know that it would keep him warm.

His headboard was a large and twisted metal grate painted golden. It looked like the gnarled roots of some ancient tree. Erik felt his power building inside of him, eager to pinch and twist and turn the metal into separate designs, knowing that he could especially on the nights when insomnia hit or his nightmares blocked him from sleeping. On the other side of his bed was a dresser for his clothes and a globe, fat and silver, for it, too, was metal, perched atop the dresser.

From his window, he could see the satellite dish that had been the tool for one of the proudest moments he had regarding his powers. Next to his bed was a small table. On the table was a bottle of finest French red wine. He chuckled upon seeing that.

"You cunning fox," he murmured in awe, as he turned to see Charles smiling from the doorway. "How did you do all this?" Charles's eyes glinted with mischief.

"Oh, no, dear friend," he wagged his finger at Erik teasingly. "A good magician never reveals all his secrets at once."

"Was it Raven or Emma?"

"Shut up, Erik," he laughed and went back to examining his new living quarters, face stretched into such a smile that it hurt his cheekbones.

But sitting pressed against the opposite wall to his bed was an actual bookshelf, which Erik had not possessed since he was a child. Only a few books sat on the mahogany shelves, but next to it was a plush black chair, sleek and elegant as the footstool sitting at its base. A reading lamp stood like a guardian over the chair, also metal.

Erik's eyes wandered over each new decoration, examining the careful placement of them around the room. Enough room was let for him to pace at will, he noticed, but also for him to sit and relax and think nothing of the world outside. Or perhaps everything for next to his globe was a radio. He smirked. Charles was baiting a tiger with that little piece, but he doubted the other cared much. He liked baiting things.

Eventually, though, his eyes were caught by a glint of something sitting on an empty bookshelf. Erik squinted at it wonderingly. What was…?

It couldn't be.

As if in a trance, Erik slowly felt himself moving forward towards the very familiar, very old object sitting there. He felt Charles quietly wheel himself into the room, watching from a silent and respectful distance as Erik came face to face with it. He would know it anywhere.

A menorah.

The menorah which he had lit with his mother some odd years earlier, before the Holocaust, before the Nazis, before... Everything. When he had been a happy and carefree boy beneath the protective love of his parents. Erik felt his eyes sting with tears as he stared at the golden candle holder. He had assumed it destroyed in the raid upon his house. How could it still be?

He reached out, delicately, and touched it; half believing it would crumble to dust when it did. However, the sacred object held firm, sparkling at him as if it knew he was an old friend.

Erik felt a tear dribble down his cheek. He had to swallow the lump in his throat about four times before he could speak and when he did; his voice trembled like a guitar string. "C-Charles," he choked. "You…You…" For only one person knew of that memory, only one person could have possibly retrieved this.

"I hope I'm not being too bold here, Erik," Charles continued for him, tentatively. "I had a friend from Oxford retrieve it for me. He's in Germany now, doing some work or another, and he owes me a favor. Your town is still there. No one lives there and the buildings have been ransacked so many times that it looks like a ghost town, he told me, but he managed to slip inside of the house which used to be yours and retrieve that," Charles nodded towards the menorah in Erik's grasp.

Erik stared at Charles, only half-comprehending the words coming from his mouth. All he could think-all he could do-was remember the Hanukkah's he had spent at home. How those days had been brutally taken from him forever and all memory of his family stolen or destroyed…or so he had thought. Until now. Until Charles found a tiny piece of the boy he used to be and showed it to him, reminded him that once, long ago, he had not been Frankenstein's monster.

So there was chance he might become what he once was again. He could be happy again.

Tears ran steady rivers down his face as Charles went on, disconcerted by his silence. "I know that you don't identify with your Jewish heritage anymore, Erik," he was saying quickly. "I know that your experiences have… Sucked that from you. I know that the Menorah must signify everything you've lost, all the horrible things that were done to you and your people," Charles flinched as memories of other's memories floated through him. Only Charles would know him so well as to already guess what would flash through Erik's mind upon seeing this.

"I know the boy who lit those candles was very different from who you are now. I know it must remind you of your family and those horrible Camps, but… I thought that maybe it didn't have to mean that anymore Erik, it didn't have to be a sign of everything you've lost but everything you've gained," this novel idea stunned Erik so much that his breath hitched in his chest.

For so long, he had not seen any bit of light in the world, but now he understood that the light of the world had never left; never been destroyed completely. Even if at times, it felt as if it did, as if it always would. As if the fate of man was to destroy the light which they had so graciously been gifted with. It had been tucked away, beaten down and tortured but it had never left. He could only stare, wide-eyed, at Charles as the telepath fumbled for words.

"And that boy," he gestured wildly to the menorah. "That boy is still inside of you. He's the goodness in you, Erik. His tenacity of spirit, his generosity, his passion and incredible desire to live is still there. He's the best part of you, and I know that you probably won't be spending much time in here from now on, but I wanted there to be a reminder whenever you do come back-a reminder of that goodness, of how proud I believe your parents would be of you, despite whatever wrong you've done," he continued sharply when he saw Erik close his eyes in agonizing shame.

"You've done good too," he insisted, as if he were before a judge and needed to make his case. "For these children, for mutant-kind, for me. That menorah represents who you've become, Erik, and I wanted you to have it," Charles crossed his arms defiantly, as if daring Erik to contradict any of what he had just said. Though he was confined to a wheelchair and two years younger than him, Erik had to admit that Charles did have a way of making him feel like a small child again.

And, oddly enough, he was okay with that. Because the small boy he had once been carried the best part of him.

Erik looked back down at this treasured gift, and felt his heart quiver in his chest with gratitude as he slowly set it down and looked around at his room in a house that wasn't even his, done with such care and consideration. With such a permanent air to it. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to reign in his spiraling emotions of gratitude, affection, relief, and joy.

After a few seconds, he gave up on that and opened his eyes to see Charles studying him worriedly. "Erik?" He asked.

Erik blinked. "Why did you do this for me, Charles?" he asked softly. "Why go to all this trouble when… I don't even know if I'll be staying?" his voice cracked and his very soul spasmed with pain at the thought of going. This was, quite irrevocably, his home. These people were his family and leaving-even to save mutant kind-seemed like an impossibly agonizing feat.

Charles's eyes softened as he shrugged humbly. "To thank you," he replied.

Erik was taken aback. "For saving you?" he questioned.

"No," Charles assured him. "As we said; it would have been terribly impolite for you to let me drown. No, Erik, this is a thank you for… Well… Being my friend," a small blush crept up Charles's face as he continued. "I spent so many years locked in this house, a prisoner to my father and my fears," his face darkened as he looked around, and now Erik saw the disgust on his face as he reviewed these walls.

"I went back to England to escape the pain it brought me to be here. It was a symbol of everything I dreaded, everything I had lost. As I knew the menorah would be to you," he nodded towards it. "But now, this house is a symbol of everything I've achieved, of hope, not hate. Part of my mind changing on that was in due to you, believe it or not," and Erik could hardly bring himself to consider it.

"I know we have separate ideals, Erik," Charles then went on, seriously. "I know you probably won't be staying here for very long, but… I suppose I just wanted to show you how grateful I am that you've put up with me this long before you left. And also show you that no matter what we believe or what's happening or," he waved his hand, as if brushing away the torment of excluding factors in their world.

"Whatever, that this will always be your home too. And you will always be welcome in it, no matter what you've done. So there." Charles looked up at him, expectantly. But what could Erik possible say to that? What words could even compare to all of this? He was still as speechless as he had been when Charles first gifted it to him.

"Charles, I don't know what to say…" he admitted.

"Good," Charles seemed reasonably fine with this. "Say nothing. It will prevent you from saying something as mushy as what I've said," he chuckled. Erik shook his head.

"I…"

"Erik," Charles interrupted, with a gentle smile. "I can feel what you feel, remember? I know," and he very well probably did, but Erik had to say something anyway. His hand went to the Menorah, stroking the very real surface and he knew.

Erik put the Menorah back where it had been and knelt down in front of Charles. The telepath watched him with eyes that held within them pain and despair of the likes few men ever experienced, but also a cunning and compassion beyond what any man could dream of, including Erik.

"Charles, I can't even begin to say…How much this all means to me," he gestured with his hand to the entire room, the entire house, to his very existence. "I don't even know why the hell you're thanking me," he gasped, with a small snicker.

"The honor of being your friend has always been mine. You've given me a reason to live again, sacrificed so much," -he glanced at Charles's immobile legs- "just so that I may breathe and I am unworthy of that. I can never repay you, I can't even put into words the impact you've had on me, but no matter what, just… You're my brother, Charles. My best friend, my savior, my family. I would do anything for you. I would die at your side ten thousand times should you need it," Erik stared into the eyes which reflected his soul and repeated softly: "Ten thousand times."

A tear raced down Charles's face. He stared at Erik with a small, trembling smile. For a moment, the two men simply stared into the other's eyes, the rest of their emotions incommunicable. Finally, Charles asked in a tear-choked voice: "Does that mean you'll let me win at Chess tonight?" Erik blinked once, twice, then burst out laughing.

"I would die for you, Charles," he said sincerely. "But conceding at chess is taking it too far," he corrected. Charles grinned.

"It was worth a shot," he guessed.

They grinned.