Two weeks later:
At first, they had kept him in a cage.
Only shadows flitted past the iron bars and he was drugged. So heavily that he could only loll his head against the hard bars of his cage and tug absently at anyone who walked by. they hadn't fed him in the two days he'd been in here. No food, no water. His brain was sluggish, his lips felt thick and dry from dehydration. His legs were curled eternally, him unable to move in the tiny prison.
He remembered the bare basics. He knew they were on a plane. Though where in the world they were he didn't know. His tongue was too thick to ask and he didn't suppose he would get an answer. He thought he heard Cecilia sometimes, whispering to him from outside his cage. Other times it would be Raven or Erik, their soft voices whispering something unintelligible.
And he would bang weakly at the bars of his cage, struggling to get out and understand the people he loved, to grab their hands and tell them his final message: I love you.
But they would shout at him when he did that, and in his hazy state, the loudness startled him near to tears. So he learned just to sit quietly, and stare at the shadows and listen to the whispers; awaiting his fate at the hands of cruel men.
Every afternoon for the past two weeks they had met like this. They had sent the children off to go do something which would make Charles proud (this wording was the only way to get them to do anything besides look for Charles nowadays) and the adults in the house would sit down and go over their progress. For the past three weeks, there had been no progress.
Mostly because no one knew where to start. When Erik had been tracking Shaw, it had been just that- tracking. He had had clues, leads, small details to go off of even if it was the smell of Shaw's cheap cologne. Now he had absolutely no clue what to do or how to find him and every moment Charles was away his heart tugged itself into knots until on the twenty-first day he collapsed into bed and, Menorah in hand, prayed in his people's ancient language for the first time since Auschwitz.
When it finally did come, it came in a most… Unexpected way.
"Emma," Erik was addressing her when it happened. "Have you gotten anything from Cerebro?" the word yet hung in the air like a still cloud. Emma shook her head. Her eyes had been insistently filled with worry whenever she looked at him lately.
"Nothing," she clucked beneath her tongue. "I can feel him there at the edge of psyche. He's alive. I know he's there, but I can't reach him, cannot even get a distinct feel on his head. Like you would feel a bug crawling on your skin but can't pinpoint where," she reported, for perhaps the sixth time that week. Erik pinched the bridge of his nose.
He didn't know what else to do.
That's when there was a strong knock at the newly made front door. Erik was on his feet at once, the small balls he kept in his pocket flashing into miniscule knives. Hank growled. Moira brought out her gun and pressed herself into the doorway of the Carnation room. Logan's claws stretched out. Jason touched the wall and he became plaster, positioning himself protectively in front of Cecilia.
They all tensed, waiting for another knock. It came, once, twice, a decisive rapping upon the door. He glanced at the others. Why would an attacker knock? Well, I've seen weirder things. "Wait!" Cecilia hissed. "What if it's Charles?" That stopped the Mutants cold.
"Since when does he knock?" Raven asked quizzically.
Hank shook his head. "Certain drugs can quite easily disable telepathic powers. Maybe he can't do anything but knock," the image of Charles broken and bleeding at the doorstep, knocking desperately, made Erik shudder. What if it was him? Yet what if it was someone else, the kidnappers returned to break their half of the deal?
"What do we do?" Jason asked softly, having come to the same problematic conclusion. Before Erik could answer them, Moira's cell phone rang. She looked down at it baffled, before gingerly picking it up. The others crept closer, listening intently.
"Er… Hello?" she asked uncertainly.
"McTaggert?" Moira's face registered surprised.
"McGilligan, sir?" She gasped. Erik recognized the voice of the leader of the CIA, Moira's boss. He cocked an eyebrow. He hadn't even known Moira was still part of the CIA. Hadn't she been fired by now? "Uh… Hello, sir…Why are you calling me?" Moira wondered in her politest quizzical tone.
"Because, I'm going to ask you and your mutant friends not to attack the person at the door," McTaggert replied curtly. Erik glanced at the doorway.
Moira was looking in that direction also. "Who exactly is at our door?" Moira asked, sounding completely and utterly confused as Erik felt.
"Someone who heard about your dilemma and wants to help," Erik narrowed his eyes.
"How did you know we were in a dilemma?" Moira demanded immediately. "Were those men yours, McGilligan?" The way she phrased that question made it clear that if they had been his men, he would have Moira to answer too.
"No, they weren't my men. But my men have been… Er… Surveying the area and they heard about it," he explained slowly. Alex and Sean looked at one another with narrowed eyes. Michael and Logan vanished at once to check up on the children.
Moira was livid. "You've been spying on us all this time and you just now send help?"
"No, we only started spying on you last week!"
"Oh, that's such a comfort, thanks!"
"Do you want help saving Professor X or not, Moira?!"
"Who is at the door? A name, McGilligan, or I'm putting a bullet in his kneecap."
A harrumph on the other side of the phone. "John F. Kennedy; Commander and Chief of the United States of America, grand authority over all fifty states. Was that good enough for you?" Erik gasped aloud. he stared at Emma.
The President was here?
"Dude," Sean breathed. "Did he just say the President is knocking at our door?"
"Should we actually let him inside?" Jason echoed. "I mean, should he know that we live here?"
Moira sighed. "If the CIA has been spying on us then he already knows we live here. Erik, go open the door," she ordered impatiently. Erik knew better than to contradict her, and with Cecilia following, he walked to the front door and carefully opened it.
Despite having been told that the President was at his doorstep, he was still surprised to actually see John F. Kennedy…
Was at the door.
Two men in black suits were on either side of him. The supreme authority of one of the most powerful countries in the world gave a warm smile. "Good evening, Magneto," he said, not cheerful but not… Droll, either. "Or, the CIA's spies have identified you as Erik. Congratulations on your Nobel Peace Prize, by the way. I was rooting for you. May I come in?" Erik struggled to keep his cool. Kennedy was everything he had imagined, and… More. Cecilia seemed to have less of an issue about it. She gently pushed past Erik and waved a hand inside.
"Please do, Mr. President," she invited him in with a small smile. He nodded to her and waved his men back.
"Stay here, boys. I'll be fine," Erik felt his brows vanish beneath his bang line at the show of faith. He stepped aside as the President walked in. Mr. Kennedy gave a brief look around the house. Erik imagined after the grandeur of the White House, he wouldn't be impressed, and indeed he could tell he wasn't. More of… Intrigued. "I imagined you'd all be hiding out in a place like this," The President stated with a small smile.
"It's beautiful," he was stuck for a decent reply.
"Thank you," Cecilia answered for him. "This way, if you please. The others will want to meet you," how the hell was she so calm about this?
The others were just as stuck for a decent word when they saw who had walked into the room. "Wow," Sean mumbled to Hank. "When he said the President, I thought he meant President of the, unimportant we-have-no-money committee. Not of the United States," Hank nodded in agreement.
Kennedy heard, and chuckled. "Please sit down. Would you like something to drink?" Cecilia asked, having established herself as the hostess of the house. Erik leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. Emma joined him.
How is he? She asked in his mind.
Erik took a moment to answer, and he sounded incredulous to himself. He's… Nice. Emma's brows shot up and she turned back to Kennedy with a keen look in her eyes.
The mutants all sat down on the couches that Kennedy wasn't sitting on. Moira had gotten don with her phone call and walked in casually. She smiled at Mr. Kennedy.
"Mr. President, it is good to see you again."
"You two have met?" Michael gasped.
Moira gave a sly grin. "No, but I saw him on the television. You're looking well. How is your family?" she inquired. He nodded to her amusedly, eyes brightening at the mention of his family.
"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Ms. McTaggert. You've helped create quite a stir in this country," she smiled.
"It's my job, sir."
"I see that. My family is well, thank you. Better than you all are, at any rate," he shook his head and turned to the assembled Mutants. "Before we go any further," he established. "Let me be the first to give you my sincere congratulations on your achievements. All of you are true heroes," he stopped. Erik nodded. His Nobel prize didn't seem to matter so much anymore.
"Also, my sincerest apologies that this horrible thing has happened to you on the behalf of this country. Professor X was an icon to people around the globe-human and mutant alike- I can't imagine why anyone would wish to hurt him," neither could they. Then again, they all knew Charles. The honesty in Kennedy's eyes settled the rage that boiled in Erik at the very mention of Charles being hurt.
"Lastly, I won't take up much more of your time. Indeed, there's no time to waste," he slung a leg over the other knee, fixing them with a composed gaze. Erik decided that he liked the President. He was good person.
"Let me explain to you what I did when I heard about this… Atrocity three days ago. I immediately sent letters to every State Legislator in this country, asking for their support in staging a National man-hunt. Then I telegraphed every ally of these United States and asked the same," he had done what?
"In the time span of three hours after this was accomplished, I not only got affirmatives from forty-five states, but I acquired a pledge of support from America's allies and beyond. Your humanitarian efforts have gained yourself-and him- a favorable acclaim it seems. We are now ready for an International Manhunt, staged by humans and mutants. We have planes ready to take to the skies, ships ready to scour the seas and over sixteen million humans and mutants ready and willing to search every inch of this Earth until we find Charles Xavier," he cocked his head.
"I came here not only to inform you of this- but to ask the X-Men to lead it. Would you be able to do that?"
By this time Cecilia had burst into tears of pure gratitude. The rest of them merely stared at him, speechless. Erik, for once, felt as if he had no idea what he was doing. And felt quite unworthy of the task before him; actually talking to this man. And not only that but…
An International manhunt?
His knees felt weak. He had to lean on the wall to hold himself up. "Uh…" He had to speak, didn't he? What did one say to that? In what words could he possibly describe the gratitude in his soul? How?
Logan had the answer. "Hey! Where are my cigarettes?" He hollered throughout the house as he suddenly stuck his head in the doorway, frowning.
When he saw the President there, he did not seem at all awkward or awed. Instead, he just asked: "We going to look for Charles now?" The silence was enough of a confirmation. "Good," he stated. "I'll lead the Canadians. I gotta smoke first, though. After I figure out…" he gave them all a murderous look.
"Which one of you damned thieves stole my cigarettes?!"
The world spun on its axis dizzily. He remembered his cage being bumped and tipping over. Pain in his head as he hit the top of the cage and then…Darkness. He woke up, fully cognizant, to find himself strapped to a metal table with a light swinging above.
His arm and legs were spread out, eagled, leaving him vulnerable. Charles looked up, fought the chains holding him down. He reached out with his mind, and found it blocked. he looked around, cringing past the blinding light of the light bulb above his head. The walls were made of the same shiny metal that Shaw had used to keep his mind out. Only this time, he was barred in. he couldn't use his mind to feel anything outside of the room. His gut clenched in sudden terror. He had never been restrained in his earliest gift before, never gone a moment without just knowing the thoughts of those around him...
A chuckle.
"Looking for someone?" He met his father's cruel insane eyes and gulped.
From somewhere far away, he knew that the scientists would be coming to collect blood samples and tissue swabs. Without his permission probably. "You don't have to do this," his father approached, like a stalking cougar.
"For my son, I do."
Charles clenched his teeth in total frustration. "I am your son!" He shouted.
"Liar."
Then pain.