Disclaimer: I do not own x-men first class. If i did...well, there would be a LOT more slash. Just sayin'.

A/N: Enjoy.

It was raining he thought, the small droplets of the skies tears falling and splattering against the grey washed cement in a sullen type of lullaby. He had always hated the rain. He let his feet lead them, the mutants that followed like whipped dogs in this storm. He couldn't hear his heart. He couldn't hear his own thoughts. He was frosted over like the rain, just walking ahead with one purpose in hand, not needing to stop and think. He just needed to get it done.

"Erik, we've been walking miles now. I really need to rest, my wounds are bleeding again." Her voice was strained, light but heavy at the same time, and her footsteps dragged. They were entering the station, the subway cars rolling down as if they were hyped up on the numerous forces of crank.

"So rest." He responded, his voice clipped and tore with the rattled edges of laced insanity. "Rest, and recover." The doors of one subway opened and Erik stepped in, turning his head around to stare at the others.

"Rest on the train, Raven."

She felt just as lost as him. She wasn't sure if he noticed this though. He wouldn't sit down with them; instead he opted to stand, although there was no one else but them occupying the grimy compartment. She focused on breathing in slow gulps of murky air, her wounds aching with each breath but she could feel herself healing. She was built better than the rest of them. The train rattled along, bumping and jerking, and Raven thought for an instant that it was Charles who was touching her arm. It wasn't of course. She looked across from her to Alex, who was rubbing the blood of his face, the scratch on his nose standing out harshly in the green glow of flickering lights above them. Erik would not stand still. He moved up and down, unnerved by the constant moving of the cart, and Raven couldn't help but notice the slight limp he carried. She didn't say anything though. But Alex did.

"You might want to sit down." He was directing this toward Erik of course, but his voice carried off in another direction, flimsy lost vocals that have already given up. Erik didn't respond. Instead he kept pacing, like a hungry lion waiting to pounce. He was wound up like a spring, a jack n' the box, seeking the right moment to yell "SURPRISE!" Raven decided to sleep. She let her eyes close, let her heart calm, and let the memories with Charles wash over her like a wave that took her under. She was tumbling in the feelings, flailing arms and legs to breathe against it, but she held her breath and instead slept.

It was raining he thought, the small droplets muted against the tall ceilings and thick walls, no windows here to reflect their landing. He just listened, could tell it was there along with the wind, helping it on. He was hoping for a sunny day, a painless sunny day. He had wanted to have breakfast with Erik, cuddled up in the man's strong arms and never leave. He had wanted to take Raven to a nearby salon, the first one she would ever get to go to, Hank to a science museum, Sean to an airplane exhibit, Alex to a movie that had once interested him. He hadn't gotten to do any of those things. The steel was cold, even through the thin layers of bedding. He still felt its chilled hands reach up to him. He felt drowsy, and broken, and bandaged. He moved his fingers, a dull pain shooting through his arm. He didn't want to open his eyes yet. Maybe it was fear that held them closed. Maybe it was disappointment. He couldn't help anyone.

You're awake.

Her voice ripped through his mind and he sighed. He didn't respond, just let her words hang open in the air like a piece of abandoned yarn. He wasn't going to speak with her. He was going to speak with Shaw.

I know you are. Your mind tells me so.

Silence met her words.

Your sister broke my nose.

Charles allowed himself to laugh at this, what a silly image that would make.

You dare laugh?

He did again for good measure.

I'm going to kill you.

He was still laughing, harder even now. Yes, why state the obvious? Of course they would kill him, he knew everything about this place, how it worked, and how they worked. Why not kill him? So do it. End it now. He hated this table anyway.

I'll give your mangled body to them.

Charles stilled. Her tone was taunting now.

Your head to that man—Erik, I believe?

Charles allowed his mind to go blank. He wasn't going to react to her petty games. Instead, he focused on breathing. Should he open his eyes? Or was fear and uncertainty still binding him?

I wonder what he'll do…I've never seen a man cry before. Do you think he would Charles? Cry over your head?

The images she pressed into his mind were torturous. He had never seen Erik cry, had never seen him gain a tear, but in these foggy imaginings he was sobbing. Charles heard his heart break. He tried to push the pictures from his mind, the pictures that made his fists grip the sharp edges of the table.

Stop.

It was her turn to laugh.

You respond to that? Pathetic.

The images increased ten fold.

Police were posted on every corner. The rain slid seamlessly down their helmets and visors, their guns glinting slick, their uniforms wet. Every passer bys arm's were checked thoroughly, scrubbed clear of any foundation that could cover up the pressing tattoos. Erik groaned inwardly, stepping back again and turning to face Raven. She transformed immediately, her blonde hair turning black and shooting up to be tucked away beneath a helmet, her full lips loosing their redness and shrinking in thinner. She took on the appearance of a thick built man, her police uniform and shape surprisingly convincing.

"Lead us down to the candy store Raven. I think it's four blocks from here. We'll walk behind you. Act like your leading us, but don't draw attention. Alex, stand beside her and converse. If they think we're acquainted they may not tail along." They began. No one looked and no one followed. The police didn't turn or move to follow. There was no sort of concern. Sean crept closer to Alex, the rain giving him a slight chill, and the warmth that wafted out of the blonde haired boy was comforting and real. He swallowed, wiping his red drenched hair from his forehead. It clung to his skin like burnt eggs on a pan. Sean swallowed, feeling his throat as he did. He longed to talk to Alex now, to tell him that he was wary of the looks of the civilians, but he did nothing to draw Alex's attention to them. Maybe he liked the way things were going, liked how for once their plans were moving along smoothly. But maybe it all circled around how his mind felt clouded over in the new winter's frost.

Charles had closed off his mind. As a result, he was in only blackness. He could not move, and he denied his brain the right to think. He could feel Emma waiting outside the walls, like a cat waiting to pounce, tail waggling in anticipated excitement, claws sheathed and unsheathed. He felt as though he was drifting in a void, his nerves dead and light inside him. He felt totally disconnected. Which was better, he supposed, than those thoughts that made his toes curl and his heart shatter like breaking glass. The shards, even after broken, still latched on and still managed to stick in deep. Distantly, he though he heard a door swing open, a whoosh of pressurized air pricking at the corners of his subconscious. Muffled he heard two pairs of footsteps, echoing tauntingly around the vast (?) room.

"He closed off his mind, he's lost in himself. I can't wake him up." Charles recognized that seemingly always-playful tone and he inwardly recoiled. Tried to physically, but his hands seemed to be bound, feet experiencing the same up coming issue as his hands.

"That won't do, my dear. I left him in your care." The man's voice sounded like it was patronizing a six year old about leaving a doll in the yard, but the man's tone suddenly grew cold. "Deal with it. Wake him up. We don't have long, the CIA's getting on my ass about unauthorized testing, and the other labs are shutting down. I need this now." The man's voice belonged to Shaw. That much was obvious, and Charles felt like he had gained a lot of unattended information in the past thirty seconds. He opted for opening his eyes as he sensed Emma growing closer. Her heels stopped, and she stood out of place in the confinements of this white, metallic room.

"He's awake." She sighed, eyes piercing in a formidable glare down at Charles, mouth set in a tight line. Charles took in her appearance; her left cheek sprouting a major bruise, and it was taking on a nasty shade of blotchy purple and swollen yellow. Her nose was in a cast; metal slices holding it securely in place and a white fluffed up cloth covered the rest. She looked awful and Charles smiled at that. Shaw turned at the sound of Emma's voice, his eyes excited and bright as he strode forward out under the florescent lights.

On his head was a helmet.

Dark navy, with steel outlining around the brim, and it covered his nose and arched over his eyes like two silver bridges waiting to fall. Charles bit his lip, focusing on the man before him but as he stretched out with his mind, ignoring the bombard of images Emma was throwing his way, he was met with only static and the dull vibrations of excitement.

He could not read Shaw.

"You're awake! Good, good, now we can begin!" Shaw seemed flustered, and as he turned this way and that he froze, eyes landing on Emma's swollen lopsided nose. He turned back to Charles, wires dangling from his hands as he tucked them swiftly and gently onto Charles' forehead, using a means of suction disks to get them to stay.

"You know, Charles." He was saying, applying wires to the telepath's arms, legs, and neck. "Your darling little sister broke my lovely's nose." Charles couldn't see Shaw's eyes, the helmet cast a dark protective curtain over them, but he could feel the weight of Shaw's words. His heart sped. "I don't see her here, so how can Emma get out her rage, hm?" Charles didn't need his mutation to know what this man was thinking. He braced himself. Emma's fist was hard, like diamonds only bonier, and her knuckled were like sharpened gems. When she hit Charles' nose his head snapped to the side, banging roughly against the metal that made up the edges of the table. A dulling echo filled the room and Charles' coughed, blood already creeping down the back of his throat. He felt the warm hotness of red trickling down his lips and cheeks, and he desperately needed to keep his head up for fear of choking on his blood. But he couldn't exactly move, so he just groaned, and tried to focus his concentration on whether or not his nose was broken. He had heard something pop, but not crack. He couldn't tell is that was good or bad.

"You made a mess, Emma." Shaw cooed, reaching forward and dabbing at Charles' throbbing nose. "It's not broken, but its damaged." He muttered, hands prodding at the blood now lying on Charles' parting lips.

"How messy indeed…"

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