In a shaded corner of Versailles, a gray-haired man sat waiting for his companion, hidden from the plain view of human and mutant alike. He glared at the smiling X-Men. What right did those freaks have to walk the halls of this ancient castle? It made his blood boil.
They were all possessed.
He watched as that devil spawn who called himself an Xavier vanished in a puff of red smoke with the rest of his abominations. He snarled, deep in his throat.
Tonight, they would die.
The other came, dressed in the deepest black. They met eyes full of hatred.
"Did you get it?" He asked softly. The other nodded and slipped a crumpled sheet of paper into his hand just as the red-skinned one returned a few seconds later, without the others.
"The coordinates of their hiding hole," the leader squinted at the numbers. His brows shot up. I should have known. He chuckled deep in his throat. "What is it?" his partner asked. "Do you know it?" He nodded and waved a dismissive hand.
"Assemble the troops. We're headed to New York."
It didn't take long to put the children to sleep.
All of them.
Within minutes of returning home, the youngest ones had all been placed in their respective rooms and had fallen into a deep slumber. Even Kitty had gone quietly and without a story. Sean, Cassidy, Alex and Hank stumbled into the rooms with mumbles of 'goodnight,' and brief hugs.
Then it was only her and Charles. Cecilia changed into pajama bottoms and a long sleep sweater, settling her favorite robe over it. It was almost December, and the cold winter air had already started breathing from the Atlantic. Then she snuck down the halls to Charles's room with her violin. She found him also having already showered and changed, waiting. He smiled when she walked in.
"Welcome," he said. Cecilia did not ask how he had known she was coming. She knew he hadn't read her mind because she felt it when he did that, like a soft breath in the corner of her mind wafting over her thoughts. He probably had just known. Charles knew certain things like that.
"Why thank you," his room was smaller than it should have been, barely more than a bed and a bookshelf. Almost everyone in the house had it grander. But that was one of the endearing things about this man-he was simple at heart, yet liked to give everyone else complicated things. She gripped the necklace he had given her, hidden beneath her shirt, and walked over to his bed.
She sat down. "I was going to show you a new tune I picked up in Tennessee," she told him. "But I don't want to wake the others," he cocked a brow, wheeling beside her.
"Then why did you still bring your violin?" he asked confusedly.
"In case one of the children woke and asked what I was doing. I tell them that I polish it whenever I get a spare moment in the library where it's quiet."
"You have done that."
"So it's not a lie," he chuckled and shook his head.
"You are a sneaky one, my dear. Tell me, for what reason have you come to me then?" as if he didn't already know the answer.
"The same reason you stayed up for me, Charlie. To talk," they did that quite often really. And especially now when no one would bother them? It was the perfect time just to sit and be… Content. Charles slid out of his wheelchair with practiced grace and sat down beside her.
"You read my mind," they chuckled softly. "Something has occurred to me though," she sat cross-legged, listening. They had gotten into the habit of asking each other personal questions, as if they had known each other forever but only needed to fill in some fine details in the complicated artistry that was their friendship. "Where are your and Jason's parents?" She frowned.
Ah. Them.
"Dead," she said curtly. Charles cocked a brow at the vehemence in her voice. "We didn't see eye to eye," she explained, phrasing it nicely.
"On what?"
"On Jason," she replied. "In truth, we have the same mother. Different father's," she felt no shame telling Charles this, though she never mentioned it to someone else. The fact that her mother had had an affair with one man while still married to the other was scandalous. And frankly, wrong.
"Jason's father was a good man. He was a true father to me, but he died serving in France during the War. Then my father moved in," she sighed. "My mother had never been… The most measured person in the world. She was too fond of gambling and partying, but when Jason's father was around, he kept her grounded. Steady. After he died, she fell back into it," Cecilia shivered, suddenly cold.
"He was gone for long hours of the night, doing who knew what, and my father… He did bad things," what those things had been exactly, she had little clue. She only knew that he would sell illegal substances from the backyard, and was part of a gang. What that all detailed, she did not want to know.
"Still, he took care of us," meaning he had given her money for them to live off of, and then abandoned her to her own devices. She had been the one to do the cooking, cleaning and buying of groceries at only fourteen years old. So basically everything her mother had once done.
"I was always afraid he'd found out about Jordan's mutation though. Jason's father had known. His father was a mutant, and he always warned me never to let anyone know. 'Protect Jason's secret,' he trained me, 'with your life, if need be.' I hid Jason's powers as best I could, but one day one of my father's friends came over," she recalled the tall, dangerous-eyed man who had looked her over as if she was a well-bred dog. The one who had ruined it for them both.
"He never brought his friends to the house. I don't know why he brought this one, but they got into a fight about something. I mean a fists and kicks fight," she reiterated when Charles opened his mouth to ask. His eyes went hard with knowing. "I heard the commotion and ran downstairs to see what was happening. That's when that man grabbed me. He put a gun to my head and threatened to kill me if my father didn't do what he wanted. I feel like it had something to do with money," Charles reached over to squeeze her hand, as if the thought of her in danger sent a thrill of fear through him. Cecilia continued, not allowing any of her emotions to take over.
It was over.
"My father refused. He told his friend to go ahead and shoot me. Jason heard me screaming and ran downstairs. He had to use his mutation to save me," her little brother had been fourteen at the time, she sixteen, when he had used his powers to fight a man for her life. "That night, we left. My father knew some people who used mutants as recreational fighters, like you would stage a rooster fight. He was going to sell Jason to them. So we ran away. We went to one of my friend's house, where her mother hid us until I was old enough to legally take care of Jason myself. We were lucky," Cecilia sighed softly.
"She was such a kind woman. I never would have made it to college without her," she finished the story softly.
"Sounds like Joseph was for me," Charles observed. "Sounds a lot like my parents actually," he thought for a moment. "And my life," That made her smile.
"That's why I felt comfortable telling you. We're two peas in a pod, Charles," She replied. He squeezed her hand.
"Yes," he agreed softly, knowing that there were no words that could change her past. "How do you know they're dead though?" He asked.
"Because apparently Jason's father left us a good deal of money in his will, only to be given when my mother died. It is how I could afford to go to Princeton. And I saw a newspaper article detailing a drug dealer war. My father was proclaimed dead in it," Cecilia closed her eyes, remembering the sick feeling of relief she had felt upon seeing that. It made her sick to think that she had been relieved at the death of her own parent but his death meant that Jason was safe.
"I see," Charles nodded. "That was how I found out as well. My father disappeared for a few months before I went to Oxford. Instead of him coming to the door it was someone from the bank. He told me my father had been part of a fatal accident and everything he had was mine now, by inheritance law. My mother married our Gardener two days later. They stayed until I went to Oxford. The last time I saw them was in London," he shrugged.
"It was the first time I had seen my mother sober since I was nine, as well," he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "She seemed relatively happier," he considered. Cecilia imagined so.
She sighed. The memories of her childhood, for the most part were unpleasant. But the past could not be changed. Besides they always led to the present, and she certainly didn't want to change the fact that she was sitting with Charles right now; past aside.
"That's good," she quipped. "Why did you ask me, though? Curiosity?" She teased, this being his answer most of the time when he started asking her questions. Charles chuckled and shook his head, running a thumb along the smooth skin of her hand. She smiled. A few weeks earlier, she would have blushed, but she was now used to the unconscious displays of affection he gave her, the silent gifts of care when they were alone. She found it endearing that his mind was always running… And yet he never seemed to realize when he did things like that.
"Not this time, no," he rumbled. "I was thinking of something that Eliza used to tell me all the time," he muttered. At the name of the brave dead woman, Cecilia sobered.
"What did she tell you?" she asked.
"Hmm. She knew my father back when we lived in London, you see. She always told me that I was just like him. I had his charm, his passion, his generosity, his…Everything," she could see why this would disturb him. Gradually, in pockets, Charles had shown her what kind of man his father had been.
She shivered again at the recollection.
"But the man I knew… Cecilia, the man he was beneath his charm was a cruel, vindictive, anguished soul. He was so cold, and well, I know I got something from him. I'm controlling, yes, and probably more, but to be just like him…" Charles voice cracked. Cecilia shook her head and tugged at his hand to get his attention.
She had it instantly. "You're not like him," she stated with confidence. "Charles, Eliza knew your father before he turned into a monster. Maybe, once, he was like you. But you are not him. Please, don't you see how the children beneath this roof love you? You spoil them all rotten so they should," she pulled her hand from his grip and put it on his shoulder.
"No matter what your father was, Charles, you are not his reflection. You are his better. You're the better man," you're the most amazing man on the face of this Earth. I wish you could see that, the thought must have floated idly out of her mind (or maybe she shoved it into his. No matter) because he blushed and reached up to gently grasp her hand where it was on his shoulder.
Like the gentleman he was, he brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed her palm. "Thank you, my lady," there was something slightly possessive in the way he said that. Cecilia snatched her hand away, giggling.
"You are a scoundrel, though," she scolded. He seemed delighted by this phrase. He wiggled his brows playfully. She nudged him again. "You're silly," he laughed.
"Only with you," his face turned serious. "But in all sincerity-thank you Cecilia. For everything. I would never have gotten through these last months without you," she blinked, surprised.
"I've only done what you've asked of me, Charles," she pointed out.
He shook his head obstinately, gazing at her with such affection that her heart felt ready to stop. "You really don't realize; do you?" he asked in an incredulous whisper. "Cecilia, my whole life I lived in the reflection of my father. Every insult, every word, every hit… I kept them. I believed them, and didn't realize it until Boston," the bombing.
"So much pain," he whispered, shaking his head with haunted eyes. Cecilia grabbed his hand in both of hers. "It brought every feeling I had locked away to the surface. Every moment of despair, shame, guilt, rage. I was lost. I started to doubt myself and what I had begun," he shook his head.
"Then I met you," he said softly, his sapphire eyes aglow like lanterns. "And you believed in me. You trusted my word and had faith in what I was trying to do. More than Erik, more than Raven, more than anyone… You proved to me that I wasn't a devil," he brushed her bang back from her forehead tenderly. "Because no one as good as you can believe in a devil as much as you believe in me. You are my salvation; and I…" His voice caught in his throat. Cecilia's heart skipped a beat as her brain told her-shouted at her-what he was trying to say.
He is not trying to say… He does not feel that way about me! One half of her heart screamed at the brain which informed it about this newfound data. "I…"
But you feel that way about him. And whether it was how he felt or not, it was how she felt, and he needed to know it. Just once.
"I love you," Charles stuttered to a stop at her brash announcement, gazing at her with wide eyes. Cecilia continued before she could lose her nerve. "I've loved you since the first time I heard you speak at Pittsburgh. I thought you were a sham at first; just someone sent by the government to pretend to be a telepath and lure mutants out of hiding to be rounded up. But then…. You spoke in our minds. I felt your integrity and you spoke my heart, voiced my hopes and dreams aloud. You gave me hope. So I started stalking you," and why had she added that? What idiot would add that during a declaration of love?
Charles smiled feebly. "Oh, so you weren't stalking my speeches?" his smile made her feel a bit more comfortable continuing.
"No, I was following you. Just… I wanted to help you. And Jason wanted to meet you so we followed you all across the East Coast until we met that day in Boston," a day of horror. A day of courage which she had never known herself to possess. A day of her wildest dreams- and nightmares- come true. Now, this day which seconded that day only by a minuscule amount was ending.
And she still had more to say. "But I understand if you say we can't… Do anything, Charles," she hurried to assure him. "After all, I'm a human and you're… not. The world would never accept a bonding between us, and I won't sacrifice your reputation because…Umph," she was promptly interrupted by Charles grabbing her by both shoulders and fairly snatching her towards him.
Their lips met in a furious melding of desperate first breaths. Cecilia did not struggle. After a moment of bliss, they separated. She saw tears in Charles's eyes as he looked into her own with pure and unhidden elation. "You don't know how many nights I've dreamed you might say those words to me," Charles breathed against her lips, gently touching her forehead with his own. "Oh, and just so you know; the world can be damned. My reputation can go to hell, because," he kissed her again, gentler this time. "I love you too."
"Oh," she whispered blankly.
"It would mean a lot to me if you said something memorable," Charles teased softly.
Cecilia glanced down, a blush on her cheeks. And then she looked up, and a newfound fire burned deep in her heart. She would give him her heart, her soul, her mind and body. He had already claimed half of those things and proven himself a worthy holder. Cecilia felt her heart speed up. Suddenly, she giggled. "Erik is never going to let you live this down," was her memorable saying. Charles groaned at the reminder.
"Oh, I know. He's going to be insufferable for…Umph!"
He was interrupted by soft lips which crashed against his own. And as the moon which beheld the entire world sat in contemplative silence, the only significant light in a sky of leathery darkness, it was a witness to this unconventional kiss; starting a new chapter in her life that Cecilia was absolutely certain she would always remember, and never regret.
Later:
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" She asked him later, lightly running a finger up and down his chest. She felt slightly scandalous. She had never touched a man's bare chest before, and never imagined she would be doing it without being married first, but she loved Charles. A marriage ceremony would only be just that-a ceremony to consecrate it to everyone else.
As Charles had said earlier, the world could be damned.
She was resting snuggled against his side, head laid over his heart and beneath his chin. He had an arm around her shoulders, stroking her bare arm to the same rhythm in which she stroked his chest.
It was soporific. The candle on the nightstand next to his bed flickered, setting orange shadows leaping across their faces. Her violin sat on the other side of her. "When I grew up?" Charles inquired softly. "Well, for a long time I wanted to be a banker," she smiled.
"A banker?" She asked. He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating in her ears. She had noticed that his voice sounded like the violin at times, lifting ad falling like a gentle breeze. It was relaxing, musical.
"Yes," he admitted. "I assure you; I had no clue what a banker did. I wanted to be one because I thought it sounded dignified," she laughed. "Don't laugh. What was your dream?" He wondered.
"Mine? Well, I wanted to be a nurse," she replied. Charles nodded against the top of her head.
"I can envision that," he agreed. "You'll certainly have to play the act carting me around everywhere," she shook her head and lightly kissed the bottom of his chin.
"You're not a cripple, Charles," she informed him sternly.
"My legs beg to differ," he replied dryly. Then, timidly he added: "Cecilia. You know that it is unlikely…. Highly unlikely… That I will ever be able to give you children?" she knew. Michael had already mentioned it to her, casually, one day.
"I didn't know that was paralyzed, too," she had gasped.
"It's not," Micheal promised her. "Or else I'm not sure how that man might be able to go to the bathroom. No, he is perfectly capable of having children but the organs which stimulate arousal in a man… They were damaged sometime in his childhood. It wasn't the bullet at all but something else. Probably too many kicks in the gut," So, his father's beatings.
"We have enough as it is," she told him, not at all disappointed. After all, the students were their children, and they weren't growing up anytime soon.
"That doesn't… Bother you?" Charles asked. She looked up to see him gazing down at her anxiously, and with shame as well. She ran a hand through his glossy hair.
"As little as it bothers me that you're in a wheelchair. Charles, I fell in love with you-your soul and heart and mind- and I love you completely. Nothing else matters to me but that you remain the same on the inside," she patted his chest, right where his heart was, and smiled.
"Promise," she added, using Kitty's cutest voice. A tear raced down Charles's cheek. She swiped it away gently. He leaned down and kissed her gently.
"I am undeserving of you," he muttered against her lips.
"Nonsense," she hummed, lying back down. She snuggled closer to him, near to sleep. His warmth was welcome. She closed her eyes, happier than she had ever imagined she could be. "You make me so happy," she whispered, her heart full of the emotion.
"Likewise," Charles whispered against her forehead, his voice echoing in her mind like a sweet lullaby. Cecilia sighed and closed her eyes. It was maybe seconds, minutes or hours when she felt Charles gently shake her again.
"Hmm?" She asked blinking awake. The candle had died, only the small glow of an ember remained. Charles was hugging her tightly, one hand placed warningly on her shoulder.
"Something's wrong," he whispered against her ear, seriously. She tensed and gently untangled herself from him, sitting up. She listened intently to the sounds of the house and then she heard it…
Voices coming from outside.
Unfamiliar voices. And a single word of hate. "Freaks."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed in a second. Terror flooded her veins, followed by adrenaline. "We have to get to the children," she snatched her robe as Charles pulled himself to the edge of the bed. She heard his telepathic call to Alex, Sean, Cassidy and Hank.
I need all of you to wake up! He ordered. We have intruders. He slipped into his wheelchair. She handed him his shirt and the two of them quickly entered the hallways. It was all quiet. Charles pressed two fingers to his forehead.
"Charles," that was Alex, coming up behind them, Cassidy on his heels. "What's wrong? Who's here?" Hank swung in from over the staircase. Sean walked over, groaning sleepily.
"People with bad intentions," Charles's sharp voice brought him up short.
"Where're the kids?" Sean demanded immediately.
"How many?" Cassidy fired off. Charles shook his head.
"More than fifty," Cecilia's blood ran cold. This had been planned. An ambush. But how had they found the mansion? "They're surrounding all the exits. Cassidy, Cecilia, go wake the children and take them down to the secret passageway. Hank, cover them. Alex, Sean, follow me, we have to keep them at…"
A crash resounded from downstairs, followed by the thumping of feet into the house and loud voices. "Come on out, Professor!"
Cecilia grabbed Charles's shoulders, suddenly terrified. He pushed her away, towards Cassidy. "Go! Get the children! We'll keep them downstairs!" Charles ordered quickly. Cecilia squeezed his shoulders once. Please be careful. She grabbed Cassidy's hand, pulling her towards the children's rooms. Hank followed close on their heels.
"Banshee, watch my back!" Alex ordered him as they raced downstairs. Sean gave a quick grunt of agreement and screamed at the nearest walking thing. The man cried out as he was flung against the wall. Alex let out a laser blast that eradicated three more. The elevator opened and Charles wheeled out, his face set into stone and his eyes aflame. Two guys on his left froze. Sean threw them against a wall with a shriek.
"Havoc, look out!" The man who had been aiming a gun at Alex's head suddenly froze, his face set into an expression of surprise. Havoc disposed of him with a mild blast as Charles joined them in front of the staircase. Sean didn't have to ask to know he had jammed the elevator.
"Who are these guys?" Sean gasped as he ducked beneath a punch. The attackers, shrouded in the shadow of night, were coming at them from all directions, flooding into the doorways like ants. More than fifty, Charles said.
"They're Anti-Mutant society members," Charles gasped, as he raised a hand and three guys on Alex's left suddenly collapsed into a deep sleep.
"How did they find us?" Alex yelled. Chares glanced at them both and for one of the first times; Sean saw fear in his eyes.
"I don't know." A barrage of bullet suddenly fired at them. Sean jumped in front of Alex and the professor without thinking. He opened his mouth and let out a hoarse scream. He did not have to see to know that the sonic fried the bullets. They dropped to the ground, useless. Alex let out a wide laser slash, completely decimating the open space. The carpet caught aflame and the fire jumped up like goblins in the night, devouring several of the men. They screamed, flailing.
"Look out!" Sean grabbed the Prof's wheelchair and dragged it off the carpet as the fire spread rapidly. Alex dived to the other side of the staircase, cringing.
"Oops!" he called. "Sorry!"
"Your aim has gotten better Havoc!" Charles replied, trying to be positive again. Sean rolled his eyes and ducked beneath the punch. Suddenly, Sean heard a noise like water being sprayed out of a hose. He looked up to see ice crawling down the staircase, inching down unto the carpet to capture the flames in sizzling decimation.
Hank burst from the staircase, eyes roving the scene. "Behind you!" Cassidy hacked a flaming booger unto one of the guys trying to shoot Hank. He smashed the skull of another, roaring.
"Neanderthal," he growled.
Jean screamed on the side as one of the attackers reached through the staircase railings and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Rogue ripped off her glove and slammed a hand to his forehead. He slumped to the ground with a groan. "I told you your power was important, Rogue!" Bobby cried, exhilarated.
Rogue smiled victoriously. "Why are you going this way?" Alex hissed as Hank barreled past, followed by the children.
"Because the way out is down and the elevator was jammed!" Hank hissed back. Sean counted the children as they raced past him towards the kitchen. Wait, where was Kitty?
"Don't go in there!" Charles suddenly cried out to Hank. "There's…" there was more men racing in through the back, probably having knocked down the back door and coming in through the kitchen.
Hank screeched to a halt, diving towards the intruders with a feral bellow of fury. Cecilia grabbed Jean and Scott before they could go after him. Sean felt anger boil inside of him, along with fear. They were surrounded.
"Well, then, we're going THIS WAY!" he decided, aiming his defiant scream at the doorway, blasting quite a few men out of the way. Alex and Cassidy jumped to his side, using their own blasts to slowly force a path out of the door. The Professor stayed back, freezing anyone who so much as looked at the kids.
Cecilia had somehow gotten her hands on a crowbar and held it in her hands like a bludgeon, she and Hank fighting the men who had come in through the back door. A strike of sudden lightning ousted the last guy in the doorway. Sean whooped as he charged outside.
"Nice going, Ororo!" The congratulations were halted when Cassidy flittered into the sky to avoid being shot down by a sudden barrage of bullets aimed at them. Sean cried out in frustration. There were another twenty guys out front!
Their leader stood there with his hands folded behind his back patiently, surrounded by two gunmen with machine guns. He gazed at them with pure hatred, his face obscured by the night and the helmet on his head. an all-too familiar helmet, which had mysteriously gone missing after the Boston thing…Sean gasped. Charles paled.
Shaw's helmet.
"Fire!" more bullets came flying at them. Sean stood in front of the doorway, screaming. Two of the shooters suddenly groaned, collapsing on the ground in sleeping heap. Charles pushed his way to the front.
We're going to need to work together, his voice directed in their minds, quickly. Sean, Warren, Cassidy, take to the sky and handle them from there. Ororo, whip up a storm. Jean, I need you to keep an eye on everyone. Bobby, freeze them. Marie, touch them all. Hank, go wild. Alex, Scott, keep the ones behind us busy. Cecilia, we're going for the leader. Please, everyone be careful…And where is Kitty?
"Surrender!" The leader shouted as more men came from all sides. Sean backed up a bit, and to kina deep breath. These guys would regret messing with his family. "Or die!" That didn't sound like a nice choice.
"Go!" Charles commanded. Everyone dived to their places. Sean screamed his way to the air, followed by Warren and Cassidy. He saw Cassidy dip and drop like a bird of prey, spitting fireballs with a feral hiss as she went. Warren did likewise, freefalling into people. He lifted men up, snatched guns and whacked them upside the head. He looked like he was having a ball. He saw Scott and Alex vanish behind the group. Scott whipped off his glasses and opened his eyes. The front door was soon trashed.
Ororo's eyes glowed white as she raised her arms. Sean swerved out of the way as lightning rained down. Rogue whisked off her other glove and ducked beneath assailing fists and feet, smacking and hitting anyone who approached Jean, who had her eyes closed and fingers poised to her forehead.
Bobby was literally creating bridges of ice that he was skating on, freezing everyone who came within distance. Hank ran ahead of Cecilia and Charles, using all four feet as he beat everyone in his way down. Cecilia wheeled the professor forward behind him, crowbar held securely in Charles lap. He had his eyes closed. Everyone who didn't get a beat down from Beast were put to sleep by Charles.
"This is why you don't mess with mutants!" Sean cried as he dipped lower to the ground, obliterating eardrums as he went. Sean, fly up! He heard Jean cry in his mind. Sean did as she said, and saw four bullets suddenly whiz past the place he had been earlier.
Thanks a ton, Jean!
Hank, The Professor and Cecilia were almost to the leader now. Sean felt victory expand in his chest. Looked like they were set to win this round!
Kitty was scared.
she was cowering in her pink room when she heard the voices outside her window. She had just about wake Professor when Cassidy flung open her door and urged her to come along. Kitty had followed for a moment but when she heard people screaming downstairs and fire. She had run blindly back to her room. She sat on the bed, crying.
What was going on? Where was fessor? Who was in the house and…?
Kitty! She jumped with a scream and scrambled beneath her covers as she heard The professor in her mind. Upon realizing it was him, she let out a sob of relief and hugged her pink puppy close to her chest
Fessor! she cried back. What's goin on!? I'm scared, fessor!
Kitty, where are you?
In my room.
Are you safe? Are you hurt? She didn't answer, just shivered when she heard Seanie screaming his loud scream. She covered her ears.
Kitty. Listen to me. I need you to be brave, alright? I need you to be brave for me, Kitty. Can you do that? She nodded, sniffling. Good girl. Now go to my room and pick up the phone. You remember Moira's number, don't you? She did. He had made her say it every time she wanted a glass of chocolate milk. Which was a lot. Call her number and tell her that we need the others to come home right now. Can you do that?
Kitty was already running out.