Erik's first instinct- total, aching instinct- was to protect Charles. As if it were ingrained into the fibers of his being and the blood in his veins, Erik threw a hand up, calling upon his power without consciously realizing it while the rest of his body provided an ample shield.

Oddly enough, Charles had also grabbed him in a tight hold reminiscent of the one which had spelled the end of his walking days long ago on the beaches of Cuba. A flying brick hit him upside the head-Erik saw it right before an airborne brick hit him upside the head. His helmet made a long booonnnggg noise like a gong before flying off.

Thanks to Erik's quick reaction, the two men were encased in a cocoon of metal wires from the air system in the roof. They were feeble protection, held in place mainly by Erik's force of will. Erik heard the sounds of brick and rock crumbling, heard the crash of debris falling and the screams of people as they were crushed beneath the weight of a building.

At the back of his mind, the word bomb resonated. He did not have time to worry about it. His vision was blurry, his mind consumed by the need to keep his feeble shelter of metal upright as an entire building fell on top of it, if only to shield the unconscious Charles. At length, just when he had begun to despair that his strength wasn't enough, the sound of collapsing ended, followed by the distant noise of more people gasping and screaming from the outside.

Erik dropped to his knees, allowing his trembling arms to fall to his sides as he did so. The metal wires flopped lifelessly to the ground, exposing them to blinding sunlight.

"Charles?" he reached for the person next to him blindly, still upright in his wheelchair. His hand touched unresponsive legs. The world was spinning dizzily. He hung his head, gasping. For the love of… He suddenly felt very nauseous and if that were not enough, every muscle in his body trembled with exertion. "Charles?" Still, he had to see if Charles was alright.

He felt a trembling hand grab his own. The other hand went to the back of his neck, squeezing gently. Erik sighed in relief as a flood of relieving warmth cascaded into his mind, pushing away the wooziness and restoring energy to his aching limbs. He looked up, the world coming into focus.

Charles was staring back at him anxiously. His chocolate hair had flecks of brick dust in it. The side of his temple was bleeding from where the brick had hit him; his gaze was unfocused, glassy. He probably had a concussion. Still, Erik could feel Charles's concern for him keenly. Bloody idiot was worrying about others again.

"Erik? Are you alright?" His voice was slurred. Definite concussion.

Erik stood shakily and nodded, dusting himself off. Brick dust was all over him too. His knees were raw and tender from being pushed into the cement by the weight of a building. He didn't even know where his helmet had gone too. "I'm fine," his eyes scanned the area around them.

He and Charles stood inside of a circle of cleanness. Around them, the rubble of the building sat like the ruins of some great and ancient city, crushed and hollow. He heard moans and coughs from the settling dust. He cringed as he saw arms and legs twisted from beneath boulders of building, still. He had seen enough death to know that there would be no help for those bodies. There were splatters of blood everywhere, the air stunk of death and suffering.

He gulped and looked down at Charles. The telepath was also staring around with the wide-eyed gaze of a deer caught by headlights in the middle of the road, shocked and scared of the instant annihilation to come. It occurred to Erik that Charles could probably feel the pain of those around him.

Outside of the rubble, the policemen were trying to wrangle the terrified crowd away from the rubble- and away from each other, for some mutants had begun to point fingers and some humans had begun to do the same.

How could they even think of that right now?

"Where are the others?" Charles's alarmed voice gasped. Erik swiveled around, looking for them.

He heard Emma's voice first, and it was like that of an angel. "We're here," he looked in the general direction of here and saw them all huddled in a corner, having raced to grab each other like he had raced to grab Charles, shielded by each other and by others. Emma stood in her diamond form over Sean, who was covering Jean and Rogue with his own body. They unraveled at the call, like a pill bug unfurling from his circular protection.

Azazel poofed back into existence next to Logan, whose six claws glinted in the sunlight. He was gasping, his body a shield for Riptide, Ororo and Bobby. Fragments of his skin had been blown away by the debris. It was healing quickly, the skin flowing over the wounds like rubber stretched over holes.

There was blood on Alex's back, but he didn't seem to notice. His arms were wrapped tight around Cassidy and Scott, face hidden in their tight circle as his back was to the recent explosion. Hank and Raven rested next to them, Hank's own arms encasing Raven and Kitty. Erik did a quick mental check as they all stood, moaning, noticing cuts and bruises. Was that everyone?

Moira and Michael appeared out of the dust settling outside of the rubbled circle, eyes anxious. "Are you two alright?" Michael asked, already stepping over the fallen scraps of building towards them.

Charles wasn't paying any attention. "Where's Warren?" he demanded, the tense calmness he was forcing obscured by panic. The question reached the ears of the others. They all looked up and around, paling in unison. Warren wasn't in their small group. The mutants around them did likewise. The policemen glanced over their shoulders searchingly. Even the fighting humans and mutants fell silent, turning to each other quizzically as if to ask the same question. Charles's panic was bleeding into their own psyches. And then…

"LET GO OF ME!"

Erik swiveled so fast that the world spun again, but he forced it into realignment in order to properly see the poor idiot who he was going to kill as soon as…

The first thing that he noticed was that the criminal was wearing his helmet. It had a large dent in it from the brick, but it was still intact, the menacing metal gleaming at him mockingly from the sun. The next thing he noticed was that the wretched Neanderthal had Warren seized firmly against his chest.

The boy's left wing was bent at an awkward angle, skewed slightly to the left and then steeply vertical. It looked painful. The other one was folded down at another awkward angle. His hair was mussed with brick dust and there was a long gash on his right bicep. Warren was pulling at the thick muscular arm around his chest, kicking as the man backed away towards the human protestors. The third- and most terrifying thing- he noticed was that he held a knife to Warren's neck.

A knife.

All of these things took him seconds to observe; though it felt like centuries, and when he noticed that he was helpless a deep pit of horror lodged in his gut. Charles's sudden clutching fear swept through him like a tidal wave of cold dread, followed by several cries of horror and gasps from the crowd.

The protestors grinned, manically. The policemen- a few of them- instantly had their guns pointed at him. The X-Men all took a step forward. He saw Logan's claws shoot out and Alex's hands glow with fearsome heat. Moira suddenly had a gun out, pointed directly at the head of the kidnapper and no hesitance in her eyes.

"Stay back!" the deranged man yelled, as he brandished the knife at them before placing it firmly next to Warren's neck. Everyone halted; eyes wide.

"Erik," Charles said urgently under his breath, Erik shook his head.

"It's… I can't feel any metal in it, Charles. It doesn't have metal properties. I can't do anything…" he told him helplessly. Charles gave him a brief look of horror before turning back to the scene. Warren was deathly pale, but still he struggled vainly. The man was backing slowly towards the safety of the protesting mob. Erik's gut clenched.

He glanced at Azazel, who was staring straight at him waiting for a command. Erik gave a single nod. Do it.

Azazel vanished in a puff of silent red smoke, reappearing a second later behind the kidnapper. He raised an arm, about to smash his skull open with trained arms, when suddenly he cried out. Erik heard the whirring noise of electricity and saw that from behind Azazel another anti-mutant protestor had brought out a taser. Azazel jerked several times, eyes wide before falling to the ground, twitching.

"Take that, freak," the protestor sneered before placing a hand on the kidnapper's shoulder and aiming the taser at the rest of the crowd. It was a stand-off, with the kidnapper's back to the supporters of mutant death and in his hands one of their students.

"Stay back!" the kidnapper warned again, eyes swiveling between Erik and Charles and the others. "Or else he dies!" he pressed the knife closer to Warren's neck. Warren flinched away, causing the knife to scrape his skin. A trickle of blood escaped. Erik's heart burned an inferno of rage.

Charles spoke. "Please," he pleaded softly. "He is only a child," he didn't take his eyes from the blade at Warren's neck.

"He's an abomination," the blonde-haired man hissed. He turned to the other bystanders, mutant and human alike trembled and backed away beneath his gaze. "Mutants are a disease upon humanity, a scourge sent by the heavens to test us!" he cried, voice ringing out in the silent square.

"But I will not fail this test. They either need to be killed or cured. I will find a cure, and everything will go back to normal," many mutants cringed upon hearing this. The human haters on the other side nodded approvingly.

"You need not worry about the boy," he then said to Charles, with a mocking nod of politeness. "He's going to help me discover a cure to the disgusting disease which makes you lot different from the rest of us," Erik's felt his heart skip a beat. His breath hitched as the implications of what the man was describing flashed to mind.

Experimentation.

Warren would live the life he had as a boy. The thought was unbearable to him. He bit his tongue to stop a current of curses from running loose as the monster who had captured his boy bent down to whisper in Warren's ear: "How does that sound, son? Like fun?"

Warren glanced at him, cringing, trying to yank his ear away. His eyes were filled with terror. He, too, knew what the man meant. His deep blue eyes found Charles's as the man began to back towards the anti-mutant crowd once more.

Warren flung an arm towards the one person who meant safety to him in a mute entreaty for rescue. "Professor!" he screamed in a plaintive plea for help that cut straight to Erik's heart.

A silver tear ran down Emma's face. Cassidy let out a small cry of despair, covering her mouth as she dropped to her knees as if it were her own child being taken. Alex, Sean and Hank all turned their faces away as if they could not bear to watch, fists clenched so hard Erik could see them trembling from where they were. Logan growled deep in his throat. Moira's gun faltered. The children gripped the nearest adult, silently crying.

Erik didn't dare look down at Charles's face for fear that what he might see there would break his heart more. He could feel Charles's desperate dread flowing through him, the tightly held control on his emotions and telepathy now lost as Charles beheld one of his students being forcibly dragged away to a fate worse than death.

And there was nothing any of them could do.

"Bon voyage, my…!" The air shifted as suddenly a lithe body shot from the mass of anti-mutant protestors with all the speed of a flying missile. The blur was a woman with a thin wooden baseball bat, which she promptly smashed against the skull of first the man with the taser and then the kidnapper. The first fell, the latter stumbled, releasing hid hold on Warren.

"Get the hell away from that child!" she hissed viciously, her fierce words belied by the fact that she was trembling so much that she dropped the baseball bat. It clattered on the hard cement next to the other man. Upon noticing the futileness of the weapon now, the kidnapper reared back into a standing position, eyes ablaze with fury. "Why you little…!" he raised a fist to strike. The woman let out a squeak of fear and swiftly turned, shielding Warren with her own body, but the strike never came for out of the anti-mutant crowd came the strangest thing…

A mutant.

His skin was glowing in the sunlight. He was purely silver, and according to Erik's itching powers, he was made of metal. He grabbed the fist reared; face a stony mask of apathetic rage. The kidnapper looked up, stunned. Fear flickered in his eyes as the mutant made a growling noise.

"Don't. Touch. My. Sister!" Then, pleasing Erik immensely, he delivered a swift punch to the face that led to a grating noise and spurt of blood from the kidnappers' now broken nose. The Neanderthal collapsed, writhing in pain on the ground. The humans on the other side backed away, eyes trained on the giant metal man warily. He looked around for more opponents, obviously expecting more of a fight.

He got none. The woman looked up from where she had fallen on her knees to protect Warren. Her gray eyes were filled with concern. "Are you alright, sweetie?" she asked softly. Warren was sobbing quietly, but he managed to nod. He was frantically trying to wipe his tears away.

"Warren!" That was Cassidy jumping to her feet. She raced over to the two. Warren looked up and promptly left the woman to land in her arms, crying. Charles's breath of relief was shared by most everyone else on the crowd. Without speaking, Erik knew that he was in no shape to wheel himself right now. With a lift of his palm, he transferred himself and Charles over the piles of rubble out of their circle. They landed just as the other children flocked around Warren worriedly.

"You broke my nose!" The kidnapper accused the giant.

"I could have broken something else," the mutant pointed out calmly just as Moira appeared, and, flashing her CIA badge at the police moving forward, she grabbed the man by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

Then she punched him again, this time in the gut.

"Ugh!" The idiot cried, falling to his knees, which made it easier for Moira to cuff him.

"Don't mess with my mutants!"She hissed, again reminding Erik why he liked Moira. She was one of the only humans he respected -and frankly got along with- because of her tendency to hit people. It was rather refreshing.

She shoved him towards the frightened police. "He's all yours, boys," she informed them. Erik glanced over to the others, and saw Warren sitting on his knees, clinging to Charles's unresponsive legs, trembling, as Angel assessed his skewed wings. Charles had leaned over, gently carding a hand through Warren's hair and rubbing his shoulder, whispering soft reassurances in his ear. Erik jogged over, kneeling next to Warren. Cassidy had tears running down her cheeks as she gently touched Warren's left wing. The crowd watched at a respectful distance.

"It isn't supposed to look like this," she told Michael as he walked up; kneeling on Warren's other side. "I think it's broken," Michel gently poked at the bone at the base of Warren's back. The child stiffened.

"Not exactly," the doctor muttered. "His wings are like shoulder joints. They can be popped out of place. The adrenaline is masking most of the pain for now, so it would be best to snap it while he can't feel most of it," he said, directing this phrase towards Charles. The telepath nodded and looked at Emma.

"I don't trust myself at this moment," his voice trembled as he waved at the bleeding mass of swollen flesh along his temple. "Can you?" She nodded and shoved Erik out of the way as Michael waved Logan and Erik forward.

Erik had snapped joints into place before, and if Logan hadn't, he was about to learn. Besides, they were strongest. They each took one side of the wing, holding tightly. Charles gripped Warren's forearms, gently instructing him to lay his head down facing Emma. "It will be over soon," he whispered when Warren whimpered. Emma pressed two fingers to his forehead, probably intending to take most of the pain from him.

"One…Two…Three…!" Sorry Warren. The wing snapped into place with a sickening pop. Warren flinched but did not cry out. Two fat tears of pain flowed down Emma's cheeks though. She clenched her teeth, and Erik couldn't help but admire her strength.

"Try moving it," Michael directed softly. Warren did as he was asked. Slowly, his wing quivered, then shook. A few feathers fell off but the appendage rose, strong and usable. Erik let out a breath of relief. Thank goodness.

The crowd seemed just as relieved, or those that cared. Charles was still stroking Warren's hair. Suddenly, he looked up. Azazel had come limping over, eyes sunk in with a weariness that superseded physical exertion. Charles studied him for a moment, judging something, before beckoning Alex forward and gently placing a slumbering Warren in his arms. Emma seemed to have put him to sleep with her psychic hold. She slumped against his wheelchair, exhausted. Erik knelt at her side and stroked away a blonde stand of hair.

"You did well," she smiled deviously.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, spicy head," she murmured. Erik smiled.

"Azazel," Charles said softly. "Take them home," he directed tiredly, gesturing to the children, then added: "All of them," Erik got the message. He nodded to his team.

"Go." He faced no objections. He imagined none of them wanted very much to stay. Hank took a step towards Charles, though.

"I won't leave you, professor," he started, but Charles shook his head firmly.

"No, Hank," he said firmly. "I need you to go with them as well. This place isn't safe…"

"Then come with us!"

Charles looked at the building. A few brave souls had managed to crawl out of the debris during the commotion, but there would be more in need of rescue. "I have work to do here. Go. I can't focus if I'm worried about you," his tone softened, along with his eyes.

"Please Hank. Be safe," swayed by the vulnerability in Charles's eyes, Hank obeyed. Reluctantly, he joined the long line of gripping hands that the mutant family had already created. "Wait!"

The reporters took a step forward, shaken out of their stunned silence by the prospect of their greatest publicity leaving. Azazel gave him a curt nod before they all vanished in a poof of red smoke.

Charles stared at the spot where they had vanished with a solemn gaze as the reporters looked around like lost ducklings. "You should have gone with them," He said at last, addressing Erik.

He snorted. "Ten thousand times, remember?"

"I don't deserve such loyalty."

"You do to me."

Charles didn't respond to that. There was something in his eyes- a deeper part of him beyond the weariness and the guilt- that was broken. Erik could feel it, and it scared him to think that it was now part of Charles. Erik sighed just as the reporters flocked to them. Hadn't he been scared enough for one day?

"No," Charles snapped, before any of them could ask what he felt about this attack; did this still hold with his philosophy of peace; how did he think the mutant community would react to such an attack and who did he suppose planted the bomb, human or mutant? "No questions," Charles ordered, a rare sign flashing in his eyes. It was rage. Erik wisely took a step back.

"There are people still trapped beneath there," he informed them quietly, jabbing a finger at the downed structure. "People that need our help. Put down your cameras and go," yes, he certainly was of kingly lineage, for the reporters stared at him as if they had just been rebuked by their mothers before tentatively setting down the cameras and heading towards the rubble.

Mutants and humans all joined, crying, sniffling, moaning out their grief and fear that it had been their loved ones to be crushed. Charles placed a finger against his temple and closed his eyes, concentrating. Erik wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be doing anything with a concussion, but he knew it would have been useless. Charles would always think of others before himself; it was his way.

And truthfully? Erik didn't very much want him to change.

"Excuse me?" A soft voice asked, hesitantly. Charles's eyes snapped open just as the mutant and woman who had saved Warren walked up. "Professor?" The woman asked. Erik studied her.

She was human. He had been around enough mutants to know when someone was one; they had a distinct aura about them. Sometimes of fear, other times of bold anger. But she had no such aura. Hers was of kindness, shyness, and an almost elfish joy that lurked beneath the surface.

She was extremely beautiful, she reminded Erik of an elf, actually. With chestnut hair cut in a shortened style so that strands tangled closely to the nap of her neck like ivy twines about a tree, and spiked toward the top, ending with long bangs resting around her ears and over her forehead. She had fine, long eyebrows, dark lashes and pert small lips. Her face was trapped in an expression of innocent youth; though he could tell she was older than she appeared. Gray eyes shimmered from beneath her bangs.

Charles's face softened when he saw it was her. "Ah, hello," he said as the mutant walked up behind her, now having returned to normal form. Human skin and dark silver eyes stared at Erik wonderingly. He smiled and offered his hand.

"Magneto. That 's some power you've got there," he complimented. The mutant shook his hand with eyes as wide as if Erik had just offered him gold.

"Will your student be alright?" The woman asked; genuine concern in her eyes. Charles nodded.

"He will. Thanks to you," he offered his hand as well, and she shook it. "What you did was very brave. There are no words to describe how grateful I am to you for saving him, Ms….?"

She blushed. "Ainsely," she told him, with a smile. "My name is Cecilia Ainsely. This is my brother," she waved at the mutant. "Jason. Though he prefers to be called…"

"Colossus," the man interrupted hurriedly. Erik smiled as he looked the large man over once.

"Fitting," he agreed.

"We came for the grand opening, hoping my brother could get some help with his powers from the School," she explained, with a rueful look at the place.

"And because Cecilia stalks your speeches," Colossus added to Charles. His sister blushed a deep scarlet, giving him a firm elbow in the chest. "Ow!" he cried, rubbing the sore spot with a hurt expression.

"You stalk the X-Men!" she whispered pointedly, now making him blush too. "I studied public speaking and business in college. I love analyzing speeches," she explained to Charles, who looked a bit amused by their shenanigans. Probably because these two resembled him and Raven so much. "Until they kicked me out, that is," she then muttered, bitterly.

"Kicked you out?" Erik blinked, wonderingly. What wrong could she have done? She looked as if she were unable to smash a fly, much less get into any trouble. Then again, he thought. She hammered that criminal over the head pretty hard with a mere baseball bat, she looked ashamed until Colossus put a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"We hid mutants on the run in our house for three years. One day, we got caught. When the college found out, they expelled her," he told them, in a tone that made it quite clear that he was proud of his sister for her efforts, and angry with the college for rejecting her. Erik nodded, impressed.

"What happened to the mutants in your care?" he asked.

Colossus shrugged. "We got as many out as fast as we could, sent them to others who would hide them, but some… I don't know. We had to get out fast too, or else get arrested," he seemed quite comfortable sharing the fact that they were basically criminals. Erik cocked an eyebrow, knowing that there was more to the story than just that. How had they escaped? Where had they come from? Were they still on the run?

"Well," Charles, ever the polite one, said. "I'm certainly glad you're safe. Warren might be in a very different place if not for you both. Again, you have my thanks," he said.

"It was fun," Colossus assured him.

Cecilia smiled. "It was what anyone would have done," she said humbly, before tugging at her brother's arm.

"Jason," she said. "Come on. We have work to do here. We can help the people get out," she repeated Charles's earlier words.

"I'll locate people," Charles agreed tiredly, closing his eyes once more. His head swayed Erik took a step forward to help, but Charles waved him away.

"They need you more. Go, Magneto," he ordered, and Erik knew it would be fruitless- and unhelpful- to disobey. So reluctantly, he turned his back on his telepathic friend, and at the side of Colossus who followed him like an eager puppy, made his way to the wreckage.

Moira came to get them a half hour before midnight. The black van shone lights into the dimness of the nearly abandoned street. Cecilia and Jason remained, the only two not of the mourners, crying over the destroyed bodies of their loved ones, finally pulled from the wreckage. Charles had fallen silent hours before, his eyes sunken in with grief of his own, but he paid homage to the lost, comforted the family members with silent touches. If he said anything to them telepathically, Erik didn't know.

He only put a hand on Charles's shoulder when Moira arrived. "Professor," he said softly, pulling Charles from his trance. Cecilia had wrapped a bandage around his head, but it was blood soaked now. He would need stitches, maybe more. "It's time to go," Charles merely nodded and let Erik push him towards the car past the mourners. None of them-human or mutant- noticed them leaving except for Jason, who raised a hand in silent farewell, his arm wrapped around Cecilia. In the dimness, her solemn face looked like an abandoned child before a funeral pyre.

Erik turned away. Charles didn't ask, but Erik lifted him into the car anyway, both of them plopping down in the backseat and closing the door. They sunk into shadows Moira did not turn around as she started the car.

"How many?" She wondered emotionlessly. Charles's head slumped unto Erik's shoulder when he had finished buckling him in. The metal-bender smoothed a lock of hair down, holding Charles to his chest tightly. His heart was consumed with worry. Charles was just staring into space; his glassy eyes seeped with pain. His expression was empty and vague. His skin felt hot and clammy to the touch. Fever. But when he heard Moira's question, his eyes swiveled to her slowly, as if he were the shell of a broken doll with lolling eyes.

"Ten," he croaked after hours of silence. "Six mutants. Four humans. Dead," including Eliza and John. They had died together, twisted in each other's arms like Roman statues carved in a moment of anguished love. Ten bodies that Erik and Colossus had pulled from the wreckage, mangled and lifeless. Ten families who had lost a loved one in the bomb. Ten people Charles had felt die.

Moira let out a slow breath. There was nothing to be said, so she drove through the night and empty highways silently. Erik felt his own body sagging with exhaustion. His nausea and headache were back, but he kept his attention on Charles. "Warren?" he asked after a moment.

"He's fine. They're all alright. Michael gave them a soporific," she glanced at their exhausted and in Charles's case, fevered, bodies then added: "Michael is waiting for you. We'll be home within the next hour," Erik remembered that Massachusetts and New York were right next to each other. He nodded and patted Charles's shoulder.

"Stay awake," he begged, too sad to command and too tired to ask.

"I will," Charles's voice was strong, even as his body was not. "I'll be fine, Erik," it was a relief to hear that, even if he sort of suspected Charles was lying to him again. Then, because he knew Charles needed to hear it, he whispered against his ear:

"This wasn't your fault," Charles blinked slowly.

"If I had sensed him earlier, this never would have happened." He said hollowly.

Erik was quick to deny it. "No one would have…"

"I can read minds, Erik," Charles interrupted, sharply, sounding angrier than Erik had ever heard him. The body stiffened in his arms. "I can read minds and I didn't know… And if that weren't enough, I called them there. I called every mutant from hiding and now…" Charles voice trembled out of control. He closed his eyes and Erik felt wetness seep into his chest.

He hugged Charles even more, his heart breaking in sympathy. "I was prepared for it to be me," Charles whispered after a moment. "When I started this, I thought they would come after me. No one else was supposed to get hurt, especially not my family," Warren's broken wing flashed before both of their minds.

"No one else was supposed to die. Especially not children," Seven of the ten dead had been children, no older than Sean. Erik closed his eyes as nausea built. He had seen them, pulled them from the rubble, their small bodies crooked and… Cold. So cold.

"We're in a war, Charles," he said at last, glancing at Moira. There were tear tracks on her face. "Not the kind I thought, but… This is a war, and in war, there are casualties. In war, people die," he choked out the truth which shouldn't have hurt him so much. He had survived the Holocaust. He knew more about death than any other person. He shouldn't feel so much, and before when he was a lone wolf, he would have felt nothing…

Things were different now.

Charles settled his head against Erik's chest near his heart, as if listening for some pulse of life to reassure himself that it was possible. Life was still possible. It was still there. "All those innocent people," Charles breathed, trembling. "I saw them die, heard them die, felt their deaths. I led them there to die. So many voices," he choked out in agony. Erik held him tighter, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to assuage the pain Charles was feeling. "So much pain," a strangled sob.

"Why, Erik? Why was I chosen to bear their pain?" he moaned desperately. "What sin have I committed to merit such a curse?" Erik had never seen his power as a curse. The consequences of having it, yes, but he supposed that was why he was not a telepath. He wondered if he would have the strength to keep going, day in, day out, feeling the falls and risings of the people around him through a mind that did not filter good from bad, dark from light. Erik knew that whatever agony Charles felt was beyond his understanding, was an agony only he could bear. Still, it broke his heart to know that he was useless. He placed a gentle hand against Charles's face and hugged him securely.

"Don't think about it, Charles," was the only advice he could give, in a powerless whisper. "It will do nothing to ease your sleep," Charles shook his head.

"So much pain…" and then the flood came, overwhelming them both with its intensity. Charles gripped Erik's hands with a bone-crushing grip, as if he were drowning again and needed an anchor to hold him above water; as if he were pleading with Erik not to let go. He squeezed his eyes closed and followed his own advice. He did not think about anything right then for fear that the cruelty of this world might destroy him.

He just held Charles while he wept.

Twelve stitches and a bandage was placed around Charles's head, along with a strong dose of pain medication and a soporific. Michael worked gravely, quietly. Then, when it was done and Charles was in a deep slumber, he and Moira vanished into the dark hallways of the mansion, two phantoms following shadows in hope of seeing a reflection of some forgotten revelation.

Erik went to his room. He was not surprised to see Emma already there, wide-awake in his reading chair, waiting for him. Her large eyes swept him over once in the doorway. She was dressed only in a thin sleep dress. To him it looked like the garments of an angel.

He collapsed before her in reverence. He did not remember her moving, but then he was in her arms, on the ground, trying to writhe back to his feet while slurring out explanations of his night. "Emma, people… Ten… Eliza, John…The children…Charles…" he summarized thickly, unsure whether she could even understand what he was saying but praying that she might alleviate some of this infernal agony in his soul.

That's what angels did, wasn't it? They saved you.

She shushed him and ran a hand over his forehead comfortingly. He stilled, lying limp in her arms, head pillowed on her lap. Her skin was soft. She smelled of lavender and lilacs. He lightly stroked the bare skin of her calf, momentarily entranced. She had a halo. She was glowing, golden. She was speaking, but he could not hear what she was saying. The world was fading in and out, reality blurring into dreams and images and sounds. His head ached with exhaustion.

He gripped her wrist, gasping for breath as if he were drowning again, in cold waters trying to attain something that he knew wasn't there, hadn't ever been there. Revenge was not something you could touch, was not something you could grasp and hold like a submarine. It writhed in your chest like a snake and snapped at your heart.

It was a festering disease, an almighty wave crashing upon the shore and he was drowning now not in revenge but in grief, guilt, pain, shame, revenge, hatred, rage, fear…. Every emotion he had stuffed down since he were a child shackled to a table with a madman looming over him.

Every emotion he had forced into the cavernous hollows in his heart to keep from going insane came rushing at him and he cried out, gripping Emma so that she might keep him above water, keep him here, in the golden light of her touch.

He tried to explain this, to tell her that if she deserted him now he might never wake up again, killed by his own excruciating past. But the words couldn't get past his thick tongue. He felt a hand card through his hair, and suddenly it didn't matter because she was there, with him in those cavernous parts of his heart and mind, a shining angel in the torments of hell there to retrieve him…

A fierce warrior of radiance, she burned the demons away with a single quelling look of authority before coming to hover above the scared little boy being tortured. "Hush, Erik," she muttered, somewhere beyond the realm of dream and sitting in a different dimension called reality. "Hush; and sleep. In the morning, the sun will come again. That, at least, I can promise you," her promise was enough. He relaxed as the caverns were emptied by the promise of two people, their words swirling in his mind like one of Riptide's tornadoes.

"You're not alone."

"In the morning, the sun will come again," the shackles broke. The waters drowning him receded, and the caverns of his heart echoed, now empty and awaiting new emotions. New sadness's and joys and loves.

Love. You could touch that. It felt soft and it glowed and it was golden. It smelled of lilacs and lavender and it made him promises that didn't hurt.

The boy stood, free and laughing defiantly. He grabbed the hand of the Angel.

"Thank you," he wasn't sure which dimension he spoke it on, but he meant it with every distorted mutated molecule. The angel smiled and the light shone on him from above, lifting him from the torments he had been in, taking him from the shackles that had become part of him, and finally, finally…

He slept.