Charles stared at Essex, his breath in short pants, his mind racing.
"I would rather do this civilly," said Essex, "But the situation is getting rather dire. Judging by a faint warning bell I'm hearing on my end, they've broken in and, in addition to running away and ruining my property, they've stolen from me as well."
His thin smile became, if possible, thinner.
"Surely you can understand why that's upsetting to me?" he said, "Now, I'm willing to let the child go. She was the result of a long process, one I doubt I can recreate, but you have to take my deal."
"You were holding a child?" asked Charles.
His hands, which had already clenched into fists, curled in on themselves tighter. Disgust made his throat clench. From what he'd seen on Emma's face, this was no place for a rat, let alone a child.
"Not really a child," said Essex, "More of a science project. A costly, time-consuming science project. But it does look and act exactly like a child, yes."
He waved his hand.
"However, you're missing the point," he said, "I will personally guarantee Agent MacTaggert's death if you don't withdraw now. Hers and...I think that woman's your sister? I never really got confirmation on that."
"You'd die too," Charles said.
"Well...technically yes," said Essex, "But I can deal with that bridge when I come to it. Just know that I'm not above dying to achieve some petty revenge. It would be an interesting, memorable way to die after all."
Charles breathed in, trying to focus on something, bring some semblance of order to his chaotic mind. Nine months. He was not going to give Moira to this maniac for nine months. However, he was not going to allow her to be buried under concrete and dirt.
"You don't have that much time," Essex said, "And I'm perfectly honest about that, just so you know. I really will destroy this whole place in a couple of minutes."
"How do I know you even have a trigger?" he asked, "How do I know this isn't a joke of some kind?"
Essex looked wounded, but also slightly amused.
"Did you think I would bluff with no cards in my hand?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Charles, "I don't know you."
A look of irritation flashed across Essex's face but, after a moment, the look became much more thoughtful. Charles steeled his mind. He could feel tendrils tentatively probing his defenses, and he snarled.
"No," he said, "You don't get to go there."
Essex smiled, and waved his arms.
"Maybe you don't know," he said, "But I''m giving you exactly two minutes before I blow everything up. I think you'd sleep better at night if you made some sort of decision."
Charles closed his eyes, let out a breath. No. He wasn't about to make this decision. Wasn't about to condemn anyone to death, wasn't going to hand over Moira like she was some sort of package he could toss from place to place.
Slowly, creepingly, he began to move throughout the haze. He concentrated on moving along the same conduits of Essex's mind, but careful not to touch his actual consciousness. He didn't know just how strong Essex was, but he was definitely strong enough to appear to him purposely while he had a conversation with another telepath.
In a haze, he made out a mind near to Essex's, and grabbed it. It was a guard standing outside the door, and Charles used him to peer into the room. It was incredibly stressful to do this, so painful, but he had to move past the nausea building within him.
He could make out Essex sitting at what appeared to be a desk, what looked like a trigger beside him on the desk. Charles vaguely recognized the type and the model. Especially in the early days, Hank hadn't anyone to share his discoveries with, and Charles had, obligingly, listened to him. He found himself grateful for that, because he knew what type it was. It was a military model, one that wouldn't trigger the bombs when it was destroyed.
It hurt his head, keeping it in two places at once like this. But he forced the man to move inside the room, even as he fell to his knees in the other place. Essex made a comment about weighty decisions. Charles didn't answer.
The other Essex, the real one, turned as the guard came in the room. A gun clanked against his leg in a hip holster as he moved. Good.
"What is it?" Essex asked.
His words were slurred, not alert. He was as distracted by his conversation with Charles as Charles was.
"They've moved to the upper levels," he had the guard say.
Essex frowned and turned more fully. Quickly, Charles had the man draw the gun, shoot apart the trigger. The pieces went flying, and Essex turned to the man, his eyes suddenly alert, and then Charles felt a deep, rushing pain, pulling him back, away from the guard's eyes.
When he came to himself, the other Essex, the one in his mind, was standing over him, his hands on his throat.
"I thought we could do this like adults!" he roared.
He shoved him to the ground. Charles scrambled to move, but the next blow hit him like a sledgehammer.
"I thought, after Nur, after all your years knowing what happens when you go against the grain, you might appreciate someone who was willing to compromise!" Essex snapped, "And I was so close to having a natural born telepath!"
What was he talking about? Charles dodged the next blow. He managed to get to his feet, but he was still disoriented. The next blow sent him to the ground, his face buried in what felt like mud.
"After all this time, you still don't understand!" snarled Essex, placing his foot on the back of Charles's head and applying pressure, "You and Magneto! World conquest? Coexistance? Who cares? We're the future of this world! And that child inside MacTaggert? A child with an eighty percent chance of becoming a second generation mutant? Goddamnit!"
Charles stared at the ground, all feeling gone as Essex's words slowly made sense. Moira was with child. His child. He remembered a night where unconditional love and acceptance were spoken, both in thoughts and words. God, he could still feel her hands on his face.
The pressure increased, almost to the point of his bones snapping.
"I had big plans for this child Charles," Essex said, "And who cared, really? It's not like you even knew it! Trade them for the human you were throwing yourself away on. I hoped you would be reasonable, but apparently you're as foolish as your friend!"
Essex's voice washed over him. How many times in the years since Charles had sent her away had he pictured Moira as his wife, the mother of his children? There had been two nights when he'd woken up in a cold sweat, having dreamed that she'd woken him accidentally in the middle of the night, responding to the cries of a baby in a bassinet.
Those had been the nights when he'd been unable to stay away from her. Without a word to anyone, he'd gone down to Cerebro, and found her. The first night, he'd seen her driving a car through some European country, looking tired, but, as always, beautiful. The second time, she'd been alone, sleeping peacefully and, for a brief moment, he'd pictured his dream and started crying in Cerebro.
It had been an impossible dream, even if they had been together. He knew his condition made having children difficult. But, impossibly, they had found each other. Kevin had welcomed him with open arms, and he'd known he was truly blessed. Moira loved him, and he had a chance at having a son. She was going to stay, finally, someone he would be enough for.
Then, Essex had taken her. Now, he was trying to take their child, a birth that would make everything he had dreamed of a reality. A little brother or sister for Kevin. A life they could all raise together as a family.
"You can all go to hell-"
"You dare," Charles seethed.
Essex looked uncertain for a moment, as though something had gone wrong. Charles felt himself growing, getting to his feet. All around him, walls raised. They weren't in either of their minds, not really, but he could feel his fortress growing around him.
"You take the woman I love. You hurt her," he said, "And then you try to take my child. And you dare talk about giving anything to me!"
The world rippled, and Essex was knocked back. He shuddered on his feet, but glared back at Charles. Essex put out his hand and pushed through the air, ripping and howling.
Charles brushed it aside, advancing on him.
"They were never yours to take!" he shouted.
The punch he delivered sent him skidding through one of the walls into the next room. Charles vaulted after him, jerking him to his feet before he could push himself up. He threw him into the ground, his fury growing.
"Never yours to give!"
The next punch shoved him to the basement, and Charles jumped after him. He landed on his feet, barely feeling the impact. Essex was back up, and the punch hit Charles's shoulder. A blow to his stomach, to his face. Blood trickled down from his nose onto his neck.
He blocked the next one, but Essex had gained his stride back now. The blows rained down, and he could only block so many of them. Essex was grinning wildly, and Charles was reminded of when he'd fought Nur, of crawling on the ground.
The image swirled away, and was replaced with another one. As Essex's next punch came hurtling toward him, his mind wasn't on pain. It was on the image of Moira, seated on the edge of his bed, holding a baby, Kevin sitting next to her, smiling at his new sibling.
Waiting for him.
He caught the punch, crushing Essex's hand in his fist. Essex screamed, and Charles got back to his feet. He glared at him, blood still trickling from his nose and his lips, his breath harsh.
"They belong with me! They always have!" Charles shouted, "And you will never touch them! Never!"
His fist came down, smashing him further and further into the earth, beyond what was even the school. Essex's face was a mashup of blood. He reached down and heaved him up before slamming him back into the floor.
Essex moved out of the way, and Charles saw him flicker, like the mind of the man who had taken Moira. Teleportation. The thought pushed him on, his fist coming down yet again, and Essex cried out.
But the mind flickered again and again, no matter how much effort Charles poured into trying to find it. It was disorienting, and it was rare for him to get a good look at Essex, now that he was flickering in and out of his sight.
Every now and then, he managed another blow, another ounce of damage to Essex's mind. But those occasions were getting fewer and further between. Frustrated, the image of a family he could have still in his mind's eye, he screamed after him, words that he didn't think he had in him, but words he'd discovered at the thought of his unborn child being experimented on.
"You ever, ever come near me them again, and I will destroy you! Do you hear me!"
The image disappeared, and he opened his eyes. Amanda was staring at him, Megan clutching her legs. He frowned, and then noticed the blood on his lap, dripping from his nose and mouth. He managed a weak smile at them as his vision blurred.
God, how this must look to them. The man who had offered them protection and promised them safety had suddenly started bleeding, and now he was going to pass out. How frightened they must be.
Yet, even as his vision began to swim, and black claimed him, his mind still wasn't completely with them. It was at the base, where he prayed his students had already found the woman he loved.