Disclaimer: I do not own x-men first class. If i did...well, there would be a LOT more slash. Just sayin'.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! :) They keep me writing.
"You're drunk."
"Really? I h-hadn't noticed." She practically spat out the last word, dropping a handful of colorful paper bags onto the carpeted floor, their contents of lace and leather spilling out from its waxy mouth. Her words were slurred, like she couldn't stop lulling her tongue around her speech, and she wouldn't stop blinking. Charles felt nothing but saddened pity…and a little bit of rage. He held that back well though.
"Do you know what time it is, Raven? This is very immature, even for you."
"Aw!" She slapped her hand to her chest, missing her heart by a landslide, and she stumbled and twitched to the side simultaneously. "How sweeeet!" She giggled then, kicking off her leather boots and fell down on the first twin bed. It creaked in annoyance under her weight, and her boots hit the wall across the room with a muffled thud.
"Raven, I was worried. The red in your hair is starting to show."
"Oh, puleez, Charles, stop with all the stupid mothering, 'kay? I'm twenty three, I can do what I…what I want." Charles felt his anger bubbling, and he crossed his arms as he looked at his broken sister. She was a mess. Slowly he reached his hand up toward his temple, index and pointer finger coming together to be placed on the side of his head. She turned toward him instantly then, eyes wide and hazy with alarm, but she couldn't find the strength to lift her up and throw her body at him.
"W-wait, Charles-!"
"Go to sleep, dear." Her hand dropped and her eyes fluttered closed almost immediately. Charles sighed, and gently, he reached forward to slip her out of her warm jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, skillfully unclasping her bra with his left hand while hoisting her up off the sheets with his right. He propped up the pillows and left the sheets to pool at her waist. She was snoring within minutes. Charles moved carefully over to the door, pulled on his jacket, and stepped outside the room with practiced ease. The slid soundlessly shut; although he was pretty sure Raven would be out for a while yet.
A dull thrumming continued in his mind, like a small child's hands were drumming against the mushy matter of his brain. It was irritating to say the least, and Charles was absolutely certain of one thing: He needed some fresh air.
Erik could not lie still for the life of him. His mind was filled with secret alleys, cement walkways and towering loathsome gates. His psyche held a tingling beneath the skin, one comforting and unique, and he had remembered it's feeling earlier on that day. With that telepath, whose name he had not managed to fully hear. He sighed, eyes turning up toward the ceiling once more. What was he doing, lying around? He got up then, the bedsprings creaking slightly and he moved swiftly across the room, opening and soon closing the door shut behind him. He didn't bother locking it—there was nothing to steal anyway.
The cold air hit him immediately as he strode through the front doors of the hotel, streets deserted and streetlamps flickering endlessly. It was strange, Erik concluded as he began walking, how so little people came out at night, and how they swarmed during the day. It wasn't that cold out…
"Hey! You, sir, in the brown jacket!" Erik turned at the sound of his appearance being addressed, and cursed inwardly at the police officer strolling towards him. The man seemed to be quite tall, but he was still shrouded in the shadows of the tall apartments and skyscrapers.
"What is it?" He tried desperately to keep the annoyance from seeping back into his voice but it was just too hard at the moment.
"May you roll up your sleeve for me, sir?" Erik felt himself visibly tense.
"Excuse me?" The man stepped out under the pool of a sputtering lamp, uniform similar to that of a cop's but altered somehow. He wore a visor to shield his eyes, his uniform tight and black, and he had way too many guns for just patrolling the streets.
"Your sleeve, roll it up." Erik scoffed.
"I assure you I'm not-"
"It's procedure, sir. Now, your sleeves… please roll them up." The officer inclined his head, and when Erik didn't respond immediately the man's hands began to hover over the guns holsters.
"Tell me why I should." Erik replied eyes darting around the man's surroundings. He was awfully close to that pole…
"We've lost 'bout three mutants the other day in all honesty, sir. One's a telepath. We need that one back. Just makin' sure you ain't him." The officer's left hand pulled out a notepad from his belt, and held it out in front of him for Erik to see. A line of numbers was roughly scratched onto the paper with a dying pen, and Erik's jaw clenched.
"A telepath?"
"Yes, now if you-"
The pole had wrapped around the man's neck and twisted before he said another word. The officer's limp body fell to the cement with a heavy and dull thud, the glass on the visor cracking some on the impact. Erik bent down; the pole straightening as he did, and he studied the paper on the pad.
-234782
Charles never truly minded the cold. Not now anyway, not when it numbed his mind in the most delicious of ways. He breathed in, breathed out. He was calm now, the pain subdued, the throbbing and drumming gone. Peace. And all it took for him to achieve it was to walk around in downtown Chicago in the middle of the night…how fucked up was his mind? He closed his eyes, his steps faltering, as he just felt the air around him. He kept his mind asleep, tucked in, not wanting to feel or caress any other thoughts right now. He wasn't sure if he could handle it. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes snapped open at the forceful touch and he turned to face three police officers. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he studied the cops carefully for a minute in silence. Then, the one off to his right spoke.
"Sir, may you roll up your sleeve for me?" Charles' gaze flickered to each of the men, each taller than he, and he was instantly gripped by the fearful need to run. He didn't of course.
"This…is a strange request, gentlemen." The officers didn't move from where they stood, they only stared through tinted glass down upon him. Charles' mind ached. Dammit. He didn't want to open his mind up again, but it seemed as though he had very little options.
"Sir, this is procedure. Tuck up your sleeve now." Charles closed his eyes, his fingers coming up and touching his temple. He made a gesture as though he had an itch there, but as soon as his psyche opened up he was flooded with an overwhelming rage and disgust. He stumbled backwards, gasping as the pain rode through every sensory organ of his body. It hurt to breathe…
Ah. Found you.
The voice that whispered through his mind was cold, yet soft. A woman's voice, and at the time she spoke the officer's began to move forward.
"You're a mutant, aren't you?" The one on his left questioned, reaching forward and, with the barrel of his gun, he smashed the cold metal on the side of Charles' temple. A severe ringing busted through his ears, and he staggered back, his shoulder blades crashing into a nearby wall. His vision swam, the thoughts of the three men devastating.
"She said he was the one. Check his arm." Charles couldn't identify the face, couldn't see much of anything, as he felt his sleeve and jacket being pulled roughly up his forearm.
"Yeah. Just as we thought." He felt a sharp pain erupt from his side, the sound of a boot came stomping down after the hit, and he couldn't help but gag. The ringing only intensified, his brain burning as though it was on fire.
"We've got our orders men."
Orders? What orders? Charles didn't hear any, didn't hear-
He knows too much. Shaw wants him dead. Kill him and report back.
The woman's voice flittered in and out again and Charles' felt his neck snap back, head smashing with a sickening crack against the brick behind him. This time he tasted blood.
"Let's get this the hell over with." He heard a gun fire, heard the woman's pleased buzz in his mind's eye, but he heard nothing and felt nothing after that gun fired. Just three loud thumps and all was silent. He pushed himself up, his bones creaking under the force of being moved, and Charles' willed his eyes to focus.
"I thought you were a telepath. Explain to me then, how you managed to get your head smashed in?" The deep voice startled Charles and he felt strong hands begin to slowly lift him up off the dirt ridden ground. He swayed slightly, falling heavily on what he assumed was a warm chest. He couldn't help his head lolling to the side, his breathing coming out in short ragged gasps.
"It's good to finally meet you, my friend." Charles' groaned, eyes adjusting to the stern face staring down at him. Green grey eyes gazed into ragged blue.
"Hello again, Erik."
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