Chapter 12: Crushed
"Charles," he said calmly as a monstrous groan shook the foundation of the jail, "Release me."
Hank sputtered, stumbling forward, "N-no, I don't think-"
"What you think," Erik snapped, eyes still on Charles, "Is entirely irrelevant at the present moment." Tone softening, he beseeched the wide blue eyes, Charles. They will all die. All of them. You need to let me free.
He felt cold all of a sudden and every ache and broken bone subdued by medication flared with pain. His adrenaline was pumping by proxy; hypersensitive to the roiling storm of emotions Erik was projecting. Though he wasn't sure why, he knew that he had to set Erik loose or the foreboding prediction would come true. With a flick of thought Hank froze in place, a garbled stream of frantic protests falling from his mouth. Gasping through the rising pain in his arm, Charles tore at Erik's binds to loosen the plastic buckles and belts. They fell away and Erik swung himself free, eyes hard above a grimly set mouth.
"The humans," Erik murmured. "Wherever they went during the riot; they must return there now."
Hank squealed though his frozen lips, eyes whirling wildly in their sockets as a deafening crash rocked the floor. His mind scrambled to make connection with his limbs, and as if dropped from a giant's hand he suddenly stumbled forward, Charles catching him awkwardly with his good hand. "What are you thinking," he wailed shrilly, wheeling around to dive for a colorful display of syringes intended for Erik's sedation. But he froze the next moment when the tray of needles neatly crumpled, easy as tin foil. Looking back at the mutant, Hank gulped uneasily. "You have to understand-"
"No time," Erik interrupted, slamming the door open as he dragged Charles out of the room. "Doctor, notify the human staff that they must hide!"
They were running, Charles panting at the strain on his body. Questions bubbled forth, but he hadn't the breath to voice them as Erik pulled him around another corner. Two guards spotted them and raised their voices but Erik simply waved his hand and they were lifted like toys into the air. Charles stared up at them as he and Erik sprinted past, craning around to see their safe descent. It was then he became aware that Erik was projecting again. This time it was a clear message, and not intended for him.
HOLD OFF. HOLD OFF. WAIT FOR MY SIGNAL.
Brows knit, Charles gasped, "Erik, stop… I need-" The mutant looked back at him questioningly, immediately brushing his hand over Charles' pulse point, tugging at his lower eyelid to peer into his eyes. "No, I'm fine – Erik, who are you talking to?"
Before he could answer another crash shuddered the walls, but this time the source was definite. Erik cursed as Charles paled, the counselor jogging ahead to a window to stare out. He already knew the angle was wrong, but it didn't matter. The direction of the noise was obvious.
Charles understood the horrible crunch of stone and metal. His insides twisted and he whispered in realization, "The Sanctuary…"
Gritting his teeth, Erik reached out further, searching. He needed to find her before any blood was shed.
They ran along the walls, using Charles' clearance pass to get through doors. The alarm had been raised, familiar red lights flashing. Charles could only be thankful the inmates were already in lockdown and the guards were free to move about. Just as he was reaching for the last door that would take them into the administrational floor, he screamed. Crumpling against the wall, Charles clawed at the plaster, lancing pain stabbing through his head. Erik's hands were on him instantly, shaking him by his shoulders. His voice was distant, muffled. But Charles could have been thousands of miles away at this point, descending abruptly into a disconnected stillness. White. All white.
Charles heard a name and the blood in his veins ran suddenly cold.
Emma.
…
Erik hauled Charles along, wincing with every explosion or gunshot. They were poised to infiltrate, and then it would begin. Charles' head lolled, eyes wild and lips forming silent words. When Erik heard the plasma blast from the blond guard – a sound he'd only heard once but would never forget – he knew the time for human halls and human doors had expired. He'd make him own path and get Charles safely out.
The pipes inside the walls were metal serpents, whipping and thrashing, destroying the cement and the stone. Pressing Charles to his chest, Erik ripped the wall to shreds. Light poured in obscured by dust and Erik held Charles close as he glided them down to the ground. By now the counselor was awakening to his surroundings, face drawn and pale. Erik didn't have time to wonder what had made him disappear into his head like that. Across the grounds, scorched with deep grooves that had burned the soil, guardsmen were shooting at the massive submarine that had wedged itself onto the island right next to the wreckage of the Sanctuary. The library looked like a tornado had torn though it, and Erik was quite sure that one had. Fluttering pages torn loose from their binds wheeled through the air in a spiraling parody of seagulls. Through the torrent of white paper Erik could see five figures. One was standing in front, arms raised and even at this distance Erik could see the smile. Glancing over to the guards, he crushed their weapons and every other gun within reach. They noticed him them, through the storm of pages.
Sebastian Shaw smiled and waved patronizingly.
"Erik," Charles stammered, staring up into the macabre beauty of the pieces of paper caught and played with by the wind. "This… This is who you were waiting for?" His voice cracked slightly, confusion weighing him down. Emma. Emma Frost. He couldn't quite see the other figures moving in the white storm, but he could recognize Emma's fierce mind. She caught him like a baby bird in the palm of her hand and held him there. In her diamond form he was helpless against her and she'd cut into him as precise as a scalpel. And unless he'd imagined it, she'd been laughing when she released him. He shook his head, frantically scanning the guardsmen and grimacing when he saw at least two down. "Erik," he demanded, "Who are those people?"
"Not people," he corrected, reaching towards to the water. Everyone turned to see the water's surface erupt in a violent churning of foam. Rising from the deep, glinting menacingly in the naked sun, the razor wires swayed and snapped. Erik drew them forward, a cold smile alighting on his lips when the guards cried out and ran. From above Banshee screamed in a series of high-pitched beats.
Charles spun on his heel; jaw dropping as the razor wire flew over his head in deadly lines of dripping wet metal. A massive deconstructed python, they wrapped Juniper round and round, covering the exits, choking the windows. Erik's fingers moved beautifully, as if he were playing the piano. Charles could only stare as the metal-bender worked, wrapping Juniper like a ghastly present. A slow line of thoughts drifted to him as he watched Erik work.
Trustmetrustmetrustme.
There was a roar and sparks flew as Wolverine cut through the razor wire, teeth bared angrily. Guards poured out behind him, bullets already flying. Moira's slim figure flashed past as her lethal aim sliced through the air. Logan squinted. There was paper everywhere, whirling around like it was caught on some ascending current of controlled air. And there – he cursed. Goddamn Lensherr had Charles. Snarling, Logan broke into a dead run, trusting Moira and the others not to sink a bullet into his back. Not that it would stay inside; his healing ability would push it out. Didn't mean it was painless. He was a streak across the grass, claws flashing. Green eyes scoured him, and Logan bellowed, leaping at the inmate, metal talons leading and hungry to rend flesh.
His lips quirked up as Wolverine froze mid-air. Charles was clutching his side; voice a cacophony of pleas raining against him. Staring straight into angry brown eyes, Erik calmly rotated his hand and Wolverine was pitched upwards.
"My god, Erik," he yelled, "Let him go! Stop!" He flinched as bullets flew around them, falling harmlessly several feet away to create a warped take on a fairy ring. He scratched at Erik's arm, too concerned with Logan's welfare to try and push with his mind. Behind them the people obscured by the book pages were moving and Charles swore there was a crack-flash of red appearing and disappearing in an erratic pattern out of the corner of his eye.
Bruised fingers wrapped around his wrists and Erik realized Charles had grabbed him with his broken arm. Frowning, his eyes followed the bulky line of the cast until he noticed a red stain growing beneath the tightly wound bandages. "Charles," he said, "Your arm-"
"Let him down," he said quietly, and squeezed. Charles bit back a yelp at the pain, and Erik's eyes widened as the bloodstain spread.
"What the hell are you doing!" he demanded, Wolverine descending only a touch above plummeting. He wouldn't die.
Charles swayed and informed him primly, "Resorting to drastic measures." The pain in his arm resounded with scintillating fire. He felt ill, but now Erik's attention was trained completely on him. "I don't want you hurting staff, please," he explained weakly, staring down at his own arm.
"You idiot," Erik growled, cursing as blood actually dribbled out the tight space between Charles' wrist and the cast. The fool had split his stitches and if the wound had had this little time to heal the bone could set wrong, if not break through the skin. "Verdammte scheiße!" With a frustrated sweep of his hand Wolverine – currently struggling to his feet – was thrown, along with every guard wearing metal. Bodies went rolling across the grass; tumbling inelegantly like underpaid circus performers.
The Captain slammed into the wall and cursed bitterly. She grabbed her radio and yelled, "Darwin, Sean, Alex! No metal!"
He hefted Charles up into his arms, wishing for the only time ever that the bumbling doctor with his trigger-happy sedatives would make an appearance. The psychologist wasn't losing massive amounts of blood by any means, but his body was still raw and the pain alone could shut him down and put him in a dangerous space. Erik wouldn't let that happen; he kept his promises.
...
Sean scrambled after Darwin, blinking when the other man changed before his eyes, skin taking on a scaly stone appearance. Alex caught up to them, the bandage on his head looking worse for wear.
"Should you be out?" Darwin asked; hand poised to touch until he remembered his skin would probably hurt Alex more than help.
"Already tore up a good chunk of the ground," Alex said by way of an answer, jogging up ahead. "They have something that absorbs my blasts."
Sean squeaked, "Absorbs?" Then; "Plasma?"
Darwin's skin rippled and darkened into a substance neither Sean or Alex had seen before. "When it rains, it pours."
They burst out through the doors, Moira immediately grabbing Alex and jabbing her finger in a vague direction. "Lensherr," she ordered. "Take him down." Patting the blond man's back as he nodded sharply and ran into the endless swirl of paper, Moira fixed Darwin and Sean with a grim stare. "It's a man. He's the source of some energy vacuum. And they have someone who can manipulate wind-" she faltered, eyes growing wide. Behind the two men stood quite suddenly a tall red demon. His knives flashed, inhuman face pinching with frustration as the blade skittered uselessly along Darwin's back. The guard whipped around immediately, fear long washed from his system to be replaced with instinct, and clamped down on the red mutant's arm. Gasping, Moira stumbled back when they both disappeared in a cloud of red smoke.
"Wha-" Sean breathed, yelping when Darwin and the red mutant appeared again, rolling across the ground. The creature's tail was wrapped around Darwin's neck ineffectively. A throaty string of what sounded like Russian curses poured from his mouth while Darwin almost casually punched him in the face with a rock solid hand. Sean started forward, but Captain Moira yanked him back. "Captain-" he objected, turning to find her glaring over his shoulder. Following her gaze, he made out five figures through the swirling air. One broke off from the group, running full tilt towards the wall until it leapt and effortlessly scaled the surface like an insect shining stark blue against the pale adobe.
"That guy," she murmured, frown tightening when Erik came back into view, carrying Charles in his arms. The psychologist's face was hidden; buried in the mutant's chest. The others didn't seem to pay him any mind, though a blonde woman in white reached out to touch the back of Charles' head. But the man leading the group of mutants captured Moira's attention; his helmet was glinting in the sunlight as the pages finally began to settle. They fell like snowflake into the grass and a slender man with dark hair and fine features lowered his hands with them. Pulling Sean closer, she said, "That man with the helmet has deflected or absorbed everything. Alex will focus on Lensherr, but you're the only one whose ability doesn't have a physical form." Her brows knit as she looked for comprehension. "Do you understand? Alex's rays, even our bullets; he can somehow absorb them. So I need you," she continued, mouth twisting into a bitter smile, "to gently make his ears bleed." Hefting her gun, she took a shot at the tangle of Darwin and the red mutant, smirking when the creature howled. The pair disappeared again, the smoke smelling more acrid this time. "Go get him, Sean," she ordered softly, raising her gun and calmly aiming for the wind-worker.
…
"As charming as this is," Shaw observed, "I'd appreciate if you prioritized your obligations a little more responsibly." Erik was clutching a man to his chest.
"You seem to be handling things just fine," he snidely remarked, nodding to the others that collected at Shaw's side. "Where's-" Erik held his tongue as Azazel appeared, roaring with rage as he sliced at the black guard's face with a viciousness born from desperation. "That won't do you any good," he called to the other mutant, catching Darwin's eyes for the barest of moments before the two teleported again. His head jerked as he stopped a bullet from entering the side of Janos' head, the young man's lip curling as he wrenched his arms up and wielded twin cyclones extended from his arms. He threw them at the guards, openly laughing when they were swept up, Logan cutting through the wind even as he was thrown for the third time that day. Erik turned back to Shaw. "Mystique?"
"Inside," Emma answered, pressing her manicured fingers to the back of Charles' head. Her smile was small, secret, and she caught the look of suspicion Erik cast her before she shrugged and wandered off. "We'll have the codes in no time," she said to Shaw, fluttering her pretty lashes. "Time to let the boys out."
Shaw's smug answer was drowned out by Angel lifting from the ground with her wings buzzing madly. Janos swerved the serpentine twisters out of her way while she weaved through the air, screams echoing below when she spit the acid that accompanied her gift of flight.
"Too easy," Shaw sighed. He smirked when a minor explosion sent tendrils of fire twirling up into Janos' tornadoes. "Pretty." But a frown was quick to follow. He tapped the side of his helmet. "You hear anything?" When Erik shook his head, distracted by the man still unconscious in his arms, Shaw rolled his eyes. "You can stow him in the sub; we still need you."
Only half listening, Erik strode away, listening intently to the small whimpers coming from Charles' mouth as the psychologist fought towards consciousness. The blood had slowed, though his face was still deathly pale.
Shaw watched them go. Whatever precious cargo Erik had so insolently stolen for himself, Shaw would have the final say on the matter. He doubted very much that the boy in his protégé's arms was a human; nonetheless… Jerking up, Shaw hissed as the minor ringing in his ears – barely worth his attention a moment ago – swung into a sharp crescendo before falling entirely away. According to Erik's report (received through Emma) there was no other effective telepath besides one he'd mentioned months ago – one he only brought up once if Shaw remembered correctly. Never after that. When Shaw had asked Emma to inquire further she'd told him Erik had said it was no longer an issue.
Slipping the helmet off, Shaw frowned at the needling headache starting at his temple. The pain patterned out over his skull like water trickling down the spine of a leaf. And the ringing returned, a higher pitch, a pulse. Shaking his head, Shaw looked around him. Erik was only halfway to the sub, deflecting any bullets that managed to make it past Janos and Angel. Narrowing his eyes, Shaw noticed someone creeping along the wall; a blond young man with a bandage on his head.
Recognition flickered before the ringing became a lancing screech that blew painfully between his ears. "Wer ist es?" He stumbled, clutching his head. Eyes darting wildly around him, Shaw couldn't see anyone near enough to him to – he screamed raggedly as the needling sound split tenfold into a chorus of ugly jagged scrapes out his ears. For the first time in years Sebastian Shaw was in pain. He curled into the ground; there was nothing to grasp, nothing to absorb, to steal. It was a pressure without form, ripping out his ear canal and pounding mercilessly against the confines of his skull.
Erik heard Shaw cry out and turned to watch the man fall. Something he had never seen before; never thought was possible. Charles stirred in his arms, pushing at him. His melodic accent slurred, but it was not in pain. Erik had a feeling Emma may have eased it away in a rare display of kindness. He flinched when Shaw screamed again. Pressing his lips to Charles' ear, he whispered, "Stay. Please just stay out of harm's way; I'll only be gone a mo-" Something white-hot and blistering went thundering past him, curling the ends of his hair. Whipping around, Erik saw Alex coming towards him, fiery red rings scorching the air. His eyes darted first to Charles fluttering blue eyes, then to Shaw thrashing around and striking out at invisible foes. Another furious shot of red came swinging closer and Erik snarled, shoving Charles away from him and springing away. He ran hard across the ground, far more concerned about Charles than himself.
Alex followed with a moment's hesitation to make sure Charles landed on his feet before he twisted his body in a rigid shudder, releasing another plasma ring that Lensherr barely managed to dodge. He sent another, smaller volley out when the blank wall of Juniper closest to them burst with a spray of cement and metal, the plasma slicing through and melting the deadly debris even as the inmate pushed.
"So what the fuck is this shit?" Alex bellowed through the fire falling around them. Lensherr's jaw was clenched and he was very obviously looking back at Charles. "You were what? A mole?"
"And you're what?" he snapped back, craning to see as Charles began to stumble along the grass near the remains on the Sanctuary. Gaze sliding over, he saw Shaw standing again, head thrown back. A flush of complete terror washed through him when he realized that Shaw was going to detonate. "Alex," he yelled, "Listen to me." He held up his hands, eyes flitting between Alex's mutinous expression and Shaw. "What's happening to him? Who is doing that to him?"
Air crackling as he began to charge another plasma ring, Alex snorted, "Like hell I'm going to tell you."
"He's a bomb, you idiot," Erik shouted. "He's a bomb and he's about to release everything you lot have sent at him, plus more. There will be nothing left!" Charles… His eyes pleaded and Alex must have seen something because the plasma ring faded out with merely a flicker. "He absorbs energy and can manipulate it. Whatever you've done to him – he's going to stop it by any means necessary and it'll take out the entire island." Shaw didn't do well with pain.
"Shit," he hissed, "It's Sean."
Of course. Erik blinked. Banshee. Sounds, smells, amorphous echoes; Shaw couldn't reach them. But there was no time to speculate. Erik's hand shot out and he tore the crow's nest from its foundation and shook it like a child would a snow-globe in midair. "He's not hurt," he gritted as Alex stepped forward. Dropping the nest with only a slight measure of care, Erik was able to twist on his heel, falling into a desperate sprint. His voice was ragged as he screamed for Shaw. He drew every piece of metal not connected to a person and threw it in front of him, a great wave of steel that Shaw caught in a stagger.
He gripped the metal with his bare hands, anchoring himself. Erik, his Erik, was running towards him; face a constrained melee of fear. He smiled easily and fitted the helmet back onto his head when he realized the noise had stopped. The smile disappeared as soon as he realized that Erik had gone flying past him, beautiful body a machine of intent. Left in the wake of that terrible screeching was soft cotton emptiness, and Shaw lost himself in it while he witnessed the boy he made throw himself at the feet of the young man.
The young man.
Shaw gaped at him. Then he dissolved into hysterical laughter, ignoring the rapid rise of beating wind at his back as one of Janos' tornadoes gashed the ground close by.
Charles Xavier.
And Erik.
He bared his teeth when Xavier took a swing at Erik, screaming something at him. And Erik looked helpless. Nearly ruining the moment, the shrill howl of an alarm rose through the air. As if Juniper were crying out in its death throes. Lazily looking over his shoulder, Shaw smiled. Any remaining staff from the jail came pouring out in a dead panic. They stampeded past their battle-worn peers in droves, some bloody and others pale with fear. The impressive mutant with the metal claws herded the humans back until he stood with a line of the mutant guards.
Slipping out through the doors, streaming like a toxic river, appeared the inmates. Emma in her pristine white dress led them, and what looked exactly like the human Captain strode confidently at her side. Behind them the mutants were all grimly smiling, gnashing their teeth like animals as they filed out. Soon the grass was covered with them, standing in a thrumming mass of able bodies.
Juggernaut and Sinister appeared, the former looking around in confusion while Sinister looked impatient. His crimson eyes found Lensherr and Xavier, the counselor stumbling over the ground as the metal-bender tried to remain gentle while he held him back. There was a man Sinister didn't recognize walking towards them. He barely spared the collection of staff a glance before he stopped in front of the inmates. The beautiful woman in white walked over to him, and the creature wearing the Captain's skin followed. At their backs the real Captain gave a strangled cry of outrage when the mutant waved mockingly, her skin bleeding back into blue. It was the imposter who had opened the locks on their doors, who had convinced the guards inside to release the inmates because of 'an emergency'. It was also this chameleon that had then broken the necks of guards who had questioned her. And after that the lady in white sent them all a message. The message of this man, apparently: freedom, superiority, justice.
"I am Sebastian Shaw, and this," Shaw began, voice ringing out clear as a bell, "is a revolution, my friends-" An animal scream, awful and desperate, interrupted him. He paused, frowning.
In that moment both Moira and Logan dashed forward, clashing almost immediately with the sleek blue mutant. Yellow eyes flared with annoyance as her fist landed soundly against Logan's face, pivoting in a beautiful arc to pistol-whip the Captain with her own gun.
Emma sighed irritably and crumpled the two of them with a mental twitch, arching a brow at Mystique's nod. Some of the others rushed forward to pull Wolverine and the human girl back, but Emma's attention was split as another scream echoed across the grass.
The red mutant was writhing on the ground, an unearthly sound of agony rushing out of his mouth. Darwin had fallen away from him, scrambling back in horror. Lensherr was kneeling next to him and Darwin noticed with alarm that the inmate was bleeding out of his eyes. "Len-" he started, eyes snapping back as the mutant on the ground arched off the ground so high that he was sure his back would snap. Lensherr shoved past him, barreling towards to the mutant – but no, he was going past him, shouting at… Darwin leapt to his feet. Charles. Blue eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, skin white as a sheet. He was staring at the red mutant, and Darwin's breath was swept clean out of him when he realized that Charles was doing it; he was the one making the mutant scream.
Erik charged him, yelling his name. He slammed into the telepath, tackling him to the ground. Azazel went deathly still in the aftermath. His eyes still stung where insane pressure had pushed blood through them, controlled by Charles. A terrified, angry Charles.
"No…. No…. No. No. NO NO NO NONONONO-" Charles pleaded hysterically. He felt the tiny blade of agony he pressed to Erik's temple, felt the pain open like a swollen wound. It flowed over him, drenching him and he pushed it harder until his ears were filled with unending howls of monumental pain. Every searing rip he felt as a hauntingly close echo, punching into him. But there wasn't a way to lessen it. There wasn't a way to stop. He propelled the pain outwards, finding two other minds – the red mutant and Darwin - and taking hold. More pain, more cries. They were distant, useless. Somewhere inside Charles recognized the image of shoving scissor blades into his own hand and twisting.
…
Sugar. Powdered and sickly sweet as it soaked into the blood on him. Then Charles felt everything gone, taken. He stared at his hands. They were pristine. He licked his lips; they soft, warm. White. White, everywhere. He took a shuddering breath.
"Emma."
"What in the world has happened to you, sugar?"
"I died again," he whispered.
She hummed. "Where did you go this time?"
"Erik," he breathed, gazing at her frosted nails. "He wanted me to come in."
Something distantly akin to pity was carefully doused in her expression, smoothed over like the sand in a Zen garden. "You got terribly lost, Charles."
"I know," he hushed, tears gliding down his cheeks.
Emma's breath was cold and thin as it brushed his forehead. Her lips were a snowflake kiss. "Do you know what you've done, Charles?"
"He let me in," he argued, voice cracking. "Just to help."
"You cast yourself out," she soothed, smoothing her hand down his shoulders. Somewhere she remembered his fear and the first time they'd been like this, together. How deep he'd sunk into himself. This time, however, Charles Xavier had left himself entirely behind and had descended into Erik Lensherr. "Do you know why it hurts so much?"
It did. It hurt. He could feel all of it pressing against the dam he didn't even know he'd built. The others had thought he was in shock, but he'd never even made it that far. Charles had never even allowed it. Gasping when Emma ran her strong fingers through his hair, Charles showed her the sphere, showed her the shelter Erik had offered. And the desperation that had propelled him deep into that shelter, deep enough that he'd completely separated from himself and the aftermath. The damage of Mojo's attack had run so deep that he'd seated himself in Erik's consciousness and suddenly his own well being, his identity, his self, had all been blurred and smeared into obscurity.
He laughed, the pitch high and drifting close to the edge where he feared his sanity had gone over. "And I thought I was doing well, I thought I was being strong. I thought I was fine."
Emma caught his face in her hands. "No one blames you, sugar. You built somewhere else to go." As her words wove around him in a familiar dance, she reached inside of him and felt the thick wall behind which lay the horror and the crippling shock Charles had altogether erased, not to be acknowledged. She caught some anger, sharp and uncontrolled; an image of the human captain, then directly following was a wash of shame as he clamped down with that magnificent control. Erik was the conduit the clever little telepath had used. Her lips quirked when she skimmed past the heat of lust and sex, almost feeling sorry for the both of them. Erik a greedy, swooning Romeo and Charles his horribly damaged Juliet offering him a gift founded on desperation and confusion. And Charles hadn't even been aware, not on the actual level. He allowed himself to be consumed by Erik in an effort to stop the shock – the same shock that had been threaded into his mind at the Academy. "You poor broken thing. You really thought if you smiled hard enough the world would just forget what you'd been through? You can't sweep trauma under the rug, Charles."
"It was a lie," he sobbed, chest feeling constricted. He scrambled to grab Emma as she drew away. "No, don't leave. Emma. I can't do this. I thought I could hide from it. Not again. You don't know. You don't know what he did."
She frowned. A knit of annoyance marred her brow. Lip curling in distaste, she slapped his hand away when he reached for her. "By some accounts, Charles, you did this to yourself."
And as she turned Charles caught the barest whisper of a confession. Not meant to be heard, not meant to be shared.
It shouldn't have been Mojo in the first place, sugar. It should have been you.
…
The woman in white staggered. Sinister's eyes narrowed. He knew very well the two telepath's had just been in some sort of mental aside. To the outer world they just stared at each other: Xavier on his knees and the woman standing over him. But even Sinister felt it when some powerful pulse came from Xavier. Like the brief tremor proceeding an earthquake. Sinister looked over at the Juniper staff. The humans had all fallen into some telepathic-induced coma when the woman in white left. Scurrying around like a monstrous rodent, the doctor was administering first aid as best as he could under current circumstances. The remaining mutants were very still. And the inmates as well all sustained a dead silence. In front of them Sebastian Shaw stood unyielding, arms crossed. Sinister was glad the man could appreciate the danger posed by an unstable mutant. Before the woman took him under they'd all felt the wave of nauseaterrorragehelplessness that he'd emanated as if by mental loudspeaker.
Xavier was on his feet now, Sinister noted. The woman's iron control slipped and Xavier took a definite step forward, lips drawn back over his teeth. Sinister could feel the faint echo from their exchange, and he blanched at the black hate delivering Xavier's words.
YOU DID THIS YOU DID THIS YOU DID THIS.
He flinched when the woman abruptly shifted into a different form, the echoes silenced. Sinister glanced over as Shaw clenched his fists. So this was not a common occurrence. Cause for alarm. Eyeing the shore, Sinister wondered exactly how hard it would be to attempt the swim to the mainland with no more razor wire polluting the waters.
"No more playing, sugar," she said smoothly. "You know you can't touch me now."
"That doesn't mean I can't stop you," he hissed.
Even Sinister could feel the frenzied force of Xavier's words. And something else. Some other shift of intense mental strain. He prodded very gently, and physically wheeled backwards before bumping into Juggernaut. "My god," he murmured, blinking away the spots dancing at the edge of his vision. In that instant of contact Sinister gleaned that Xavier was fighting something, fighting to keep his head above water so black and thick that Sinister was nearly pulled into it, too. By the look of it, the lady in white was well aware of the precarious balance Xavier was keeping and intended to make him fall.
"You've been lying an awful lot lately," Emma goaded quietly, sauntering around the other telepath, untouchable now that she was in diamond form. "You lied when you told Erik you were fine. You lied when you wanted forgiveness from the sniveling human captain, and you lied when you whored yourself out on the rooftop." Her smile cut like broken glass. "You're not even yourself. You can't handle being yourself, you've shut him out entirely."
"Emma, stop it," he ordered, faltering beneath the truth in her words. Erik's gaze ate at him; he could feel the roiling conflict clouding the air.
"You honestly think that it was you walking around; you talking, sticking your hand down your pants?" The foul words rolled like honey off her tongue. "That was Erik." Her glittering eyes cut to the metal-bender. "Sugar, do you know what a changeling is?"
Haunting tales from his childhood, the lost tiny goblins that would steal into the night to take children away, and leave an abomination in their place. He furrowed his brows and Emma laughed, tinkling and musical.
Charles' voice was a mere husk, sweat beading over his brow as the pressure built inside of him, "Erik, no. That's not what this is."
"He stole you, sugar," Emma cooed. "He carved himself out like a Halloween pumpkin, and you're the little candle he put inside to make him glow."
Sinister stood behind Juggernaut, flinching at the mental flares flying outwards with increasing force from Charles. The dam was breaking. He could feel it bending underneath all the stress. Nothing would help them then.
"You know," she mused, cocking her hips flirtatiously, "I never bothered to find out what Mojo was so obsessed with. My range has limits, you know. I didn't want to strain myself." Her eyes flickered. "All I needed was his rage; to turn up the volume a bit." She uttered a biting bark of laughter and threw out her hands. "It didn't even occur to me when I heard him think about 'the dear little counselor'."
Charles looked ill. "So then it's true," he whispered.
"You don't know the half of it," she chuckled. "If only you knew how badly he wanted it, sugar. Like a dog. Maybe you should've just let him take it. Maybe fighting back is what gets you into so much trouble-" Sparks flew with an ear-splitting scrape as a huge metal beam went careening into her, knocking her to the ground. Snarling, she shoved it off and found Erik standing in front of Charles. "What is this?" Emma demanded, voice impossibly measured and cold. "You don't like hearing about another dog panting after your bitch?" Her teeth were startlingly sharp in diamond form, and she showed them all in a wolfish smile. This side of Emma was rarely ever seen, and all who had ever lived to remember it would wish it rarer still.
"My god," Charles moaned, collapsing. "Oh my god!" He clawed at the ground, screaming through gritted teeth. He ignored the sickening wave of agony as he scratched with his broken arm, or the sting of his nails splitting on the rocks beneath the grass. It was all on him now; the wall had broken. The black water was filling his lungs.
"Charles," Erik yelled, eyes widening when he heard the snap of a finger breaking as Charles stabbed into the rocky ground. "Charles!" But Emma stepped in front of him, barring his way.
"Leave him," she hissed, the sound nearly a whistle. "He needs this."
"He'll kill himself," he shouted, trying to shove past her, but she wrapped her fingers around his throat.
"You don't even know, you imbecile." Tossing Erik aside, she barely glanced back as the black guard who fought Azazel ran to Charles. "That useless clown, Mojo, was the best we could do because we didn't have the best instead." Erik's face was turning puce under her grip and she smirked. "Do you remember that promising student Sebastian would reminisce about? That rising star he'd been so taken with?" The pale green eyes were blank. "Well, I remember. One Charles Xavier, an especially gifted telepath with the potential to be a walking weapon." Throwing him down with disgust, she slammed a foot into his windpipe and held it there. "But he was too soft, too weak. He didn't have the rage." She ran her eyes over Erik as if laying him bare. "So we tried to put it in him-"
"Not like I saw in you," Shaw interrupted, glancing down tenderly at Erik. "Not like the beautiful anger in you." Then he was looking past them at Charles, expression lightly amused despite the circumstances. "Emma, we need to wrap this little party up. We can save story time for later."
"Don't kill the humans," Erik rasped, shoving at Emma's leg. "Don't!"
"And why in the world would I not?" he asked, honestly confused. "Was that not a clear part of this venture? I was hoping we'd let our newly freed brethren display their power. Give them a little morale boost with the slaughter." Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckled. "The mutant traitors do seem intent on protecting the humans, though."
"It might drag out," Emma added flippantly, letting Erik up. "We don't have the time."
"Fine, fine," Shaw sighed. "Erik-" the man's head snapped up and Shaw saw concern written all over his features. Pursing his lips, he addressed Emma, "My dear, could you ready our little telepath for departure. He's being awfully fussy."
Snorting, Emma strode over to Charles and stood over him for just a moment, head tilted as if in thought before she brought one solid arm down on the back of his head. The guard launched himself at her, but Shaw was right there, absorbing the blow.
Their eyes clashed. Shaw smiled. "I like you."
"Sorry, man, the feeling is definitely not mutual."
"Your ability is very impressive," he conceded, "But I don't have the time. Either you go back with the rest of the traitors, or you die right here."
Darwin squared his shoulders and opened his mouth-
"Darwin," Erik croaked. He caught the guard's dark eyes and held them. After a moment Darwin's face fell into an unreadable expression and he withdrew. Erik followed him with his gaze all the way back to the group of mutant staff members, guarded by the remaining Brotherhood. The scruffy redhead threw his arms around Darwin and Erik almost smiled.
"You know who the most valuable are," Shaw said to Erik, "Get them in the sub. The rest can get to shore on the boat we – ah, liberated on the way here."
"And the humans?"
"The humans and the traitors can sit pretty until the government pigs come fetch them," the mutant drawled.
They worked quickly while Charles lay unconscious on the ground. Erik walked through the inmates and motioned to those he'd observed during his stay, pausing to trade a tight smile with Sinister. A crooked line of them filed off toward the submarine. The rest stood expectantly while Emma delivered more mass messaging to them. Erik went to look for the boat Shaw had mentioned. On his way to the mouth of the tiny port he noticed Mystique was sitting next to Charles, stroking his hair. He hesitated only a moment, eyes narrowing when she lifted him into her arms and began walking towards to sub.
Tied to the dock was a tugboat, worn and somehow familiar. Erik squinted at it. A captain's hat lay on the deck, and he stubbornly ignored the bloodstains. He took what cargo wasn't necessary and threw it over the edge. Various pieces of bolted furniture, a woolen blanket that smelled like the sea. He wavered when he saw a book lying dog-eared and tattered on the floor. He picked it up and frowned when he noticed the aged stamp half smudged away, able to make out the ink reading 'library' that matched the marks on the books that had lived in the Sanctuary. He put it back down, glancing back one more time at the bloody captain's hat before signaling to the inmates to begin their descent.
They left the loosed inmates information on how to contact them. Erik thought briefly of warning the inhabitants of the mainland, a place Charles had spoken so fondly of. He watched them sail off, the chug chug of the boat somehow cheerier without the twang of wire beneath the water. When he got back to the top of the cliff, Erik realized that there was one last figure, looking lost and sad.
"Jug," he called. "Why didn't you board with the others?"
"I'm gonna tell you now," Juggernaut said, "I want to pinch all your heads until your eyes pop."
Erik took a step back.
"But the counselor wouldn't want me to," he mumbled quietly. "And I won't hit a lady, even one like that white dame who talked inside our heads."
"So what are you going to do?" he asked cautiously. There was no way he could fight Juggernaut and win.
"I'm going to stay with Juniper," he decided. "She's been real good to me." He trailed off. "I'm angry at you, Lensherr. But I know you'll look out for the counselor. He's hurt bad, I know that. He's hurt too badly to stay here anymore." Ambling towards the jail, he called over his shoulder. "Maybe next time I will punch you."
Erik wiped at the crusty blood trailing from his eyes and laughed bitterly. "Only if you promise not to hold back when you do."