A week later:

"FALL BACK!" Erik commanded his troops in a hoarse scream, past the stinging winds of the African desert. When the others did not move, instead opting to stare at him with wide eyes, Erik did not blame them. This was not something they would expect him, of all people, to yell during a battle, of all things and of all places. After all, everyone knew Erik's supreme hatred of any kind of falling back was supreme. He hated surrender more than he hated humans, which was saying something.

Indeed, this was the first time since they had arrived that Erik had yelled it. Though, when the said enemy was suddenly obscured, shiftless like eroding snow in the sandstorm that was blinding everyone, well, the rules had to be changed.

This quintessential principle of survival promoted Erik, then, to take the unconventional way. Hey, he had learned through experience that survival trumped glory most days. Glory was nice, but survival was just downright spectacular.

With a roar of determination, he created a giant shield with the metal in his possession already. He heard small grains of desert sand smack against the surface, along with bullets that rocketed past. Emma appeared from the side, gasping for breath and coughing on the heat as she slammed herself next to him behind the shield.

"Hello again, handsome," she greeted, spreading her mouth in an expression similar to a grin. Erik gave her his most charming smile and a wink. He still admired Emma's capacity to mercilessly tease him in any given situation.

"It is hot," he griped in response. He glanced up at the merciless sun, wondering how he had ever let Charles talk him into doing this for an entire year. It was at least ninety degrees out. Way too hot for him to be using metal, and way, way too hot to be doing anything but sipping a martini. Erik had grown up in mild conditions. Emma read the thought.

"I tried to warn you," he sent her a furious glance as the others all ran behind the shield, ushering the young adults and children they had rescued from slavery past towards the refugee camp.

Behind Erik were the few rebels they had scavenged from desert hide-outs, shooting back at the slavers from behind unstable dunes. The ones who did not want to see their children sold away on the slave market, never to be seen again except in a pen. Working with humans was not Erik's favorite activity, but already he had learned that in this game; one did what was necessary to win.

For now, they were necessary.

"Don't you have slavers to take down, diamond head?" Emma scowled at the horrible nickname; given to her at the last second by Raven, who insisted that while in public, none of them use their actual names. Giving him a look of pure malice, Emma tuned tightly on her heel. Her skin sparkled in the light as she crystallized and then she was gone, firing past the others into the fray where the bullets bounced harmlessly off her skin.

He snickered when he heard cries of pain from the enemy, and the fight was over. The rebels behind the sand dunes let out small cheers as they saw their own enemy retreating back into the desert, Erik sighed and allowed his metal shield to fall as he, too, ducked behind a dune.

Now, if only Storm were here so that they could end this infernal sandstorm. For goodness sakes… "Azazel!" He called, covering his eyes as he ducked, curling into a tight ball to avoid sand getting into his clothes. Sand got everywhere, he had learned. Into every crack and crevice imaginable and then it stung, like little hornets pricking his skin with their stinger backsides. Right now it was focusing on getting into his ears and nose. It was irritating.

The red-skinned mutant appeared next to him in a blur of red smoke. The rebels only glanced up. After a week of fighting at the side of their mutant team, they were well-used to his sudden appearances by now. "How are the children?" Erik asked. Azazel's mouth thinned, seemingly unaffected by the thousands of grains of tiny sand particles that were driving Erik mad.

"Some are injured very badly," he reported somberly. "Most are alright, but starving. We have to get them food," Erik very well knew what it was to be starving. He nodded in agreement.

"Send Emma, Mystique and one of the rebels to get something from the market a few miles away," thanks to Charles's money and Erik's resourcefulness, they had more than enough money to buy whatever they needed.

"Oh, I see how it is!" That was Emma herself, jumping over the dunes while spitting sand out of her mouth. "Send the women to do the chores! Why don't one of you men go, huh?" She demanded, despising all insinuations of feminine obedience to males. Erik sighed. He did not have time to argue.

"Fine, send Riptide and Mystique to the market," he had wanted Emma to go so that she might know if they were being duped, and to negotiate the price down by means of telepathic influence if she must, but thinking of it, he would need her help to calm the children. After a few weeks of expecting to be sold on the slave market; they needed help rehabilitating into their role as free people again.

Or for the first time, some of them.

One of the native rebels suddenly shot to his feet, letting out a string of alarmed statements as he pointed over the horizon. Emma stared at him for a moment before paling. "Magneto…" she said, slowly standing to her feet. Erik did not need the rest of the statement to know what was happening. He grabbed Azazel and shoved him to his feet as the ground rumbled with incoming tanks. He would take care of them.

In a sandstorm, too. How had Charles talked him into this again?

"Tell Wolverine to get his ass up here and help me! Then get those kids out of here!" he ordered before turning fresh on his heel and running headlong into the blinding sandstorm.

"Moira! Hey!"

Charles was just exiting the elevator when he heard Hank's shout of happiness echo through the house. He smiled as the elevator came to a stop at the bottom and Charles wheeled himself into the front of the house happily. He had been outside a moment before, watching from the back deck as Angel taught Warren how to fly. He wanted to be there when the boy did, just as he had been with Sean.

Then he had sensed two weary people at the door and hurried down to greet them. He appeared behind Hank just as the other mutant turned around to call for him. Charles grinned, relief and joy flooding through him at the sight of his two friends. Michael and Moira stood there, smiling. Charles looked past them to the wide lawn, the lawn he had studied until memorized as a child. He knew what leaf fell where and when. Everything seemed alright. Although, appearances could be deceiving, and though it was rude of him, he had to ask it for the sake of all in the house. "Were you followed?"

Fortunately, Moira understood his view. She shook her head definitely. "No. I made sure we weren't. May we come in?" Charles let a smile take over once again as he wheeled himself backwards, laughing when Michael remarked that he seemed to be getting around faster in that wheelchair than the rest of them.

"All thanks to you, my friend," he said as Hank took Moira and Michael's rumpled jackets for them, nodding. "You both must be tired. You can rest here for a few hours, if you'd like," he offered, feeling the waves of exhaustion and stress rolling off both of them. Moira and Michael exchanged an unsure, worried glance. Charles felt a shiver of fear.

They had come to tell him something.

"Your message can wait," he told them both firmly. Moira's head snapped around, as if wondering how he knew they had a message. Then she remembered and shook her head at him.

"You and your magic tricks, Charles," she pretended to sigh in exasperation. Charles chuckled. Michael only smiled wearily.

"For now, both of you are dead on your feet. Please, allow Hank to show you to the guestrooms. I'll send up some food. You can tell us later," Charles was suddenly glad that he had let Raven talk him into keeping at least three of those open, just in case. The thought of his sister brought an unwanted shiver of apprehension down Charles's spine. He had no idea where she was right now. Last he had seen her had been a week earlier when Hank unveiled The Blackbird. The jet that Chares had commissioned had been ready just in time for the other mutants takeoff.

That jet could take them around the world in a few hours, Hank had promised. And that was what Charles was worried about. Where in the world were they now? What dangers were they facing?

True, he could always find them with Cerebro if he chose, but half of him was afraid of what he would discover if he did that. He would see what madness he had bribed them into, what dangers he had led them towards.

You're afraid of the truth, he chided himself. It was your idea. The least you can do is… "What do you think they've come to tell us, professor?" In his thinking, Charles had not noticed Hank show Moira and Michel up the stairs to guestrooms, order Sean to bring them some food-quietly, Sean- and return to his side, his expression thoughtful.

Charles looked up and extended his hold to probe at the minds upstairs. He was glad when he felt that both of his friends were fast asleep. "They've come to tell us the status quo on mutant/human relations," he said with sureness. He had deduced that from Michael's mind already. Hank bit his bottom lip worriedly.

"Should I get the others?" He asked.

Charles thought for a moment. He did not want to worry the entire house over outside affairs, and yet… This was their species too, and mutant/human relations coincided directly with the bet he had made with Erik. If these humans would not be persuaded in a year, his friend would find his own way and their family would be split. Finally, Charles nodded. "They deserve to know," he conceded.

Hank nodded, glancing up the stairs. "Okay. Let me know when they wake up, and I'll get everyone together," he requested. Charles nodded and watched as Hank walked away, probably back to his lab where he was still working on a cure for Charles's legs. The boy was a dear one, but undeniably naïve.

As naïve as I was once.

He sensed a presence. Charles chuckled and turned around fast enough to make Jean, Ororo and Scott jump, caught. He cocked a brow at them teasingly as they all snickered. "Children, children," he tsked. "You should know better than to try to sneak up on me," he told them.

"I almost had it though, didn't I?" Jean asked timidly. "I masked our presences pretty well, right?" Before Charles could say anything Scott spoke up.

"Of course you did, Jean! I mean it took the Professor like fifteen seconds to know we were here!" he cried enthusiastically. Charles's heart warmed. These children were perhaps the only thing keeping him sane. He suspected this was how many parents felt. Not how his had felt, perhaps, but most.

"He has a point, Jean," Charles said. "You are getting better. I would focus on one person for now, though," satisfied with that, Jean's emerald eyes sparkled and she nodded.

"Okay, thanks professor," she said. She turned to Scott. "Want to be my practice dummy?" She asked, with a smile. Scott clapped a hand to his heart dramatically.

"I would be honored," he quipped, with the same wit as Sean. Jean grinned and the two went off together to practice Jean's telepathic ability, talking and laughing. That left him with Ororo.

The dark-skinned girl stood before him quietly, her very aura like that of the silence before the storm. She was calm, collected, passionless son the outside but inside he knew she had a whole hurricane of emotions flying through her. Anger, pain, fear, the only emotion that hadn't yet tainted her was despair. Charles was glad. It meant that she would keep fighting until the emotions no longer controlled her but she controlled them. He smiled.

"Hello there," he greeted pleasantly. Ororo bowed her head; eyes trained on his face as if she half suspected he was some ancient deity and just wasn't telling her.

"Hello Professor," she had a lyrical, quiet voice. "I've been practicing too," she assured him as if there was any doubt.

"Oh, have you now?" She nodded. "Well, have you also been having fun?" a light shined in her eyes as she nodded shyly. "I'm glad. Here, why don't we take a walk in the garden and you can tell me about your day so far," he suggested kindly. Ororo nodded eagerly. Though she didn't say much on a daily basis, Charles was working on getting her to open up and trust him.

It would make it easier to calm those raging emotions within her, and then she would be able to do more than just flash lightning in her eyes and make the sky darken. She had a power inside of her that was so immense it could collapse countries… Or save thousands of ailing lives.

Charles intended to teach her not to hate her burden of power but embrace it and believe in herself. Mutant and proud, he thought, with an ironic smile. He then led Ororo into the brightness of the garden modeled after Hampton Court, listening to her lyrical voice tell him the story of her day.

Moira was not often shocked. She was a CIA agent, it was her job to be nosy and find things out. It was her job to know and not be shocked by whatever may come at her because CIA agents never were.

But this was Charles, and Moira challenged any agent of anywhere not to be shocked by him on a daily basis.

True, it was not so much that he started a school that he started it so fast. Eating dinner with the mutants had been one of the greatest experiences in Mora's life, and dearly needed. Which is why she suspected Charles woke them up for it. After having slept for most of the day however, Moira had not complained. She had been more rejuvenated than she had for a long time, and could see in Michael's eyes that he felt the same.

That spark of energy had increased when she walked into the dining room and was promptly greeted by Kitty laying their utensils down at the table. "You sit right there," Kitty had dutifully informed them, her job being to seat everyone comfortably. She put Moira's fork in place, patted it so that it was parallel to the fork on the other side of the table, and moved on.

Then Jean had appeared, smiling at them shyly, and began to slowly levitate their plates to the table. Moira had clapped, overjoyed by the feat. A telekinetic. Of course Charles would find one. When Bobby brought their cups, gently blowing on them-which ended in a thin layer of ice forming on the inside of the cup that lasted until the end of the meal- then Angel had flittered inside with food in one hand, followed by Hank, Alex and Sean carrying in the rest.

Charles had sat at the head of the table, his eyes temporarily flicking to the seat at his right hand, where Moira knew just by the glance, would be where Erik was supposed to sit if he were there. She did not ask where he was. The others had seated themselves, and introduced themselves as well. Then the next hour had been filled with stories from Charles, Hank and Alex on the going on's of the mutants since Moira and Michael had last seen them.

Life, was the word which came to Moira's mind now, as she waited in the (what the heck was this place? She called it the carnation room because of the white flower on the wall) room Hank had shown them for Charles to come back from tucking the children in. This house is full of life. Before, it was slightly empty, now its full, and Charles… She chuckled and nudged Michael. He had been smiling, tacking unto her thoughts.

"He would make a wonderful father," Moira said aloud. Michael nodded, his eyes shining.

"I agree. Did you know about any of this? You didn't seem too surprised by it," he observed. Moira laughed.

"No, I was, but I had never put teaching past Charles. The others are doing just as well. They're beautiful people," and that was the reason that Moira had spent the past however many days trying to negotiate with people who understood neither democracy nor fairness. She had exhausted herself with it.

Michael's face suddenly darkened as he leaned in closer. "Where do you think Erik is?" he whispered. Moira scowled. Her stomach clenched.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I didn't think he would leave…" After seeing the bond that he and Charles shared, she hadn't believed it possible for Erik to leave the telepaths side. Perhaps she had overestimated his fondness for Charles though.

"Well," that was Angel, fluttering inside with a yawn. "After reading Kitty two bedtime stories, I'm sleepy myself," she was telling Alex as they walked in. Alex nodded, flashed Moira a grin and shook Michael's hand.

"It is good to see you guys again," he told them sincerely. Moira grinned back.

"You too. It's been too long," she glanced at Angel. "I'm glad you decided to stay here Cassidy," she told her, having heard the story at dinnertime. Cassidy gave a small incline of her head, eyes kind.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," she admitted.

"Thank goodness," Charles agreed, as Sean wheeled him in. "We couldn't do any of this without her," Cassidy blushed and sank down on the couch next to Alex.

"What about me, Charles?" Sean pouted, crossing his arms as he stopped Charles in between the couches, plopping down next to him so that they could listen to Moira.

"You're invaluable to me too, Sean," Charles assured him.

"Is that why you let Erik push me off a satellite dish?"

"Of course." The two tricksters-for Charles was one at heart-exchanged grins of hilarity before returning their attention to Michael and Moira. "Alright, everyone is here," Charles said with a nod at her. "What's been happening?" Moira sighed, leaning back against the softness of the couch with arms crossed. She gestured for Michael to begin. It was giving her a headache just to think about what was currently happening. Michael picked up as if he were the CIA agent.

"Congress has begun discussing an anti-mutant campaign," he said, getting right to the heart of the matter.

"On what grounds?" Hank demanded.

"The ground of you all being threats to society, is the statement," Michael retorted crossly. "Really, the only thing stopping Congress from declaring all out war is the fact that they cannot decide whether you all are isolated events or widespread. If you're isolated events, the theory is that they could just round you up and exterminate you," the air suddenly went still and hung heavy as if the unified inhale of shock had permeated the very atmosphere. Moira closed her eyes, a sick feeling in her gut as she remembered how casually extermination had been brought up in the legislative court. As if these were cockroaches instead of people.

As if they didn't matter.

She opened her eyes to see Angel and Alex's faces had darkened with something akin to hatred, Sean's expression was one of fearful worry, Hank looked shocked and Charles had the expression of a man who had been brutally betrayed by an old friend. She was so ashamed of her species in that moment.

"If you're widespread…Well, that's where they are at odds with the right course of action to take," Michael told them.

"It wouldn't be such a problem if someone had not released footage of our fight on Cuba to every other government in the world," Moira met Charles's wide eyes. "Everyone knows, Charles," she told him apologetically. Charles let out a slow breath through his clenched teeth. She saw his fingers wrap around the arm of his wheelchair in a tight fist of anger and concern before letting go.

"We can't give up," he said resolutely, strength sparking in his eyes. The other mutants stared at him, their own eyes filled with uncertainty. But deeper than that was trust in the man before them. Charles looked up at them with gears turning behind his eyes. "Was there anyone sympathetic to your pleas?" he asked calmly. Moira shrugged.

"A few of the senators. Only the ones who have less influence," she said. Charles nodded, and he leaned forward, lips pursed.

"This might prove to be a damper in our plans," Alex pointed out, glancing between Hank and Sean. The boys nodded. Moira perked up, eyeing Charles hopefully.

"Plans?" She asked. Charles gave her a sheepish smile and Moira got the distinct feeling that she was not going to like this plan. What have you done now, Charles? She internally groaned.

"Well, we came up with a…" Charles trailed of as the rest of the mutant population currently present gave him a firm glare. He cleared his throat and began again. "Actually, Erik and I made a bet which is in effect right now. One which is meant to help relations between mutants and humans," Charles sheepishly explained.

"That's great!" Michael cried, brightening. "Though, I wouldn't have taken you for a betting man before Charles. What are the terms?" Charles cringed at the keenness in Michael's voice. Moira was getting a distinctly bad feeling about this.

"You've noticed that Erik isn't here?" Hank broke in impatiently. Moira and Michael nodded. "That's because he took the others-meaning Raven, Emma, Azazel, Riptide and Logan- to wherever in the world humans need them most," now Moira was really confused. Erik was helping humans?

"Charles is controlling him, isn't he?" She demanded, suddenly hit by the idea. The telepath threw up his arms in exasperation.

"Why does everyone assume that I'm some sort of egomaniac who goes round brainwashing people?" he huffed.

"Basically," Hank went on, ignoring his mentor's outburst. "The bet is this: They will act as superheroes for the humans for an entire year; and if in a year nothing substantially good happens in the mutant/human relationships, then Erik can go off and dominate the world and Charles won't stop him. However, if something does happen, Erik will have to settle down and try things Charles's way," Michael blinked rapidly for a few minutes, his brain sluggish to catch up with the implications of this bet.

Moira, on the other hand, surged to her feet, mouth dropping open in shock. "What?!" She cried. "A year? Whose idea was this?" The pointed looks of both Sean and Alex were answer enough. Charles gave them both dirty looks.

"Charles!" Moira raged. "Are you crazy?"

"I thought you had noticed."

"A year is not nearly enough time for any kind of bonding or helping or anything to happen! Ten years wouldn't be enough time!" She hissed, irate that Charles had so flippantly made a horrible bet.

"Even with Erik and the others proving that mutants aren't bad?" Cassidy inquired helplessly. Moira shook her head, balling her hands in her hair. Michael groaned.

"It might do some good, but not nearly enough to sway the opinion of anyone in power. People are scared, Charles, not ignorant! More shows of brute power will not influence anyone!" She sank back unto the couch and buried her head in her hands as images of a now sure future raced before her eyes. People being rounded up and carried away to experiment labs and horrible graves. Another genocide.

"What about a different display then?" Moira looked up at that. Charles appeared to be deep in thought, his sapphire eye narrowed with concentration as he stared at her. He did not look at all as worried as she imagined he should have been. His polite calm was aggravating. Michael answered for her.

"What?" he asked, rubbing his forehead.

Charles pursed his lips in thought. "The idiom 'actions speak louder than words' comes to mind right now," he then went on, as unceremoniously as if they were discussing the weather over tea. "I always believed it to be false. A combination of actions and words are a sure way to deliver a message. Everything is good in moderation," he went on, as if to himself.

"What are you talking about?" Sean asked, looking positively puzzled.

"What if someone were to speak for the mutants, to the mutants? You're right, Erik's actions are noble, but they can be interpreted the wrong way, or just plain ignored. Words on the other hand have to be acknowledged, have to be rebutted," Charles's eyes sparked with daring intellect. "Words have to be heard. Moira, can you get me to Oxford?" he wondered.

Moira was taken aback by the speedy request, especially when she had no clue what the heck he was talking about. "I could if you told me why," she replied.

"I'm going to be the other side of the equation," Charles told her, as if it were the simplest thing on earth. "Actions and words. Erik and the others are busy proving by actions what mutants can do. I believe that I can help," something clicked in her head.

"By what? Giving speeches?" Charles grinned.

"Raven did always say I'm best at lecturing. Besides, there is a limit on what I can do physically," he glanced down at his legs, sadly. "But I can speak my mind. That is a power of itself. I can call the thousands of mutants out there from hiding. Encourage them to show themselves and what they can do…"

"Now I know you're crazy," Moira interrupted. "Charles, you'd be asking them to risk their lives, their families, their reputations! You'd be asking them to risk everything, and for what?" The light in Charles's eyes had dimmed upon the reminder of what exactly coming out of hiding detailed, but it ignited again when she asked that.

He squared his shoulders. "Equality, Moira. A world where all men are created equal," he whispered, and he said it like it was a sacred thing. As if he had only ever tasted it rarely. "Freedom. Freedom from fear, from prejudice, freedom from persecution. The inalienable right of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Ideals yes, but ideals for which men have fought and died before. Why not again?" Moira stared at him, still in a state of shock.

"You sound awfully like Erik, Charles," Hank pointed out, breaking the passionate silence.

"He's rubbed off on me," Charles admitted. "Beyond that though, I must do something," he met each eye in the room. "If what you say is right, Moira, then Erik has already won the bet. I am not willing or ready to give up on humanity so quickly though. We can have peace, but we must fight for it," he met her eyes; his own sapphire orbs glowing with some…Ethereal presence which made Moira do a double-take. She had never seen such a look of bland nobility in any mortal's eyes before. Then again, she assumed that the telepath had seen into the hearts of many noble men.

He was bound to learn something from them.

She sat there for a long moment, thinking. Though a bit unsteady, Charles's plan was not a bad one. "You would become a public figure," she speculated out loud. "A beacon of hope for the mutants, and a symbol of peace for the humans."

"People love their martyrs," Michael also added.

"You can teach the humans not to be afraid, like you taught us," Sean volunteered his opinion. Charles smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

"As we taught one another," he corrected.

"Meanwhile, Erik and the others will be living proof of your claims that mutants can be productive members of society. That our powers can be used for good. And if more mutants answer your summons…" Hank was thinking now too. Good. Moira looked at Charles as he watched them all wrap their minds around the idea, and she was struck by something.

He seemed to have... Changed. Just in that swift moment of decision; he had changed. Not physically of course, but something in his demeanor was like that of some banished hero who had just returned, like she assumed Odysseus looked at his homecoming after long travels. Moira sighed, the noise cutting through the sudden excited chattering of all in the room. They turned to her; as if her own demeanor had changed. She met Charles's eyes.

"You know that if you do this; you will become a target?" She asked softly. "That you will be going up against the prejudice of every government in the world? Governments," she added, as an afterthought. "That will want you dead?" Alex and Sean paled. Cassidy's eyes looked wet. Hank gulped audibly. Charles did not smile. He merely gave a single nod of acceptance.

"There are some things," he told her, just as softly. "That are more important than our own lives," and he knew that she understood that. Moira smiled, as pride and fear floated somewhere between her heart and soul, unsure which direction to take.

"Well, alright then Charles Xavier," she agreed. "You might want to start compiling your first speech, because we leave in a week."