Charles felt the pressure behind his eyes building and building. His nose was bleeding onto the tops of his chest and legs, worming its way into his lips. He knew there would be fallout from that, namely the fact that Kevin was waiting in the hall. He didn't want him to see this again.

That was what he chose to believe was the worst of this, because he knew the truth was rather more complicated. He was starting to have trouble keeping his eyes open. He'd only passed out once in Cerebro, and the machine had been disconnected then.

He needed to be on his game. Essex wasn't giving up without a fight. He didn't know if Erik was arriving soon, although he hoped he was. Even with his abilities, there was only so much he could do at long distance.

You know, as much as I love our little chats, I can't quite see why I'm being held here, Essex observed, It's not very sporting.

I'm not in the mood for games.

I'm not either, Essex said, Which is, quite frankly, why all of this confuses me so much. Are you expecting something physical to happen? If you are, I think they're taking a rather long time.

So did Charles, but things had become complicated. Peter's safety was, of course, a priority, but saving him had carved out time from Erik's schedule. If something else had happened, then Charles would have to hold back Essex for quite a while.

He realized he was going to have to do something unless Erik showed up in the next few seconds. Charles didn't know if he had the necessary strength to send a message to Erik and find out if he was on his way and hold Essex in place. There was still quite a bit he could do, even with most of the base evacuated.

Charles wished he was stronger, but he was feeling a bone-deep exhaustion he hadn't felt in a long time. After the fight with Jason, a name which had sparked in his head when he pushed back against the man with the mismatched eyes, he'd felt significantly weaker. At the time he'd just wanted to keep him from making Peter hurt himself and keep him in place until Erik arrived.

Right now though, he needed to get Essex into his place of power. The walls in his own mind were strong, built brick by brick over the years. The replica of Westchester was almost a perfect match for the school he'd dedicated his life to. It had proved to be a lifesaver as he struggled against those who would invade his mind. The only person still living besides him who knew its true complexity was Jean.

Essex had been there once though, which meant he'd have at least some idea of how things were. Taking him back there was somewhat risky, given how deep it was in his mind and how much of himself was embodied there. He'd only taken him there on the mission to rescue Moira because, frankly, he'd been too frightened and, later, furious, not to do so.

Now though, he swallowed whatever reservations he had, because he didn't have much of a choice. He'd have to lure Essex there, and he began to give ground in his mind. Essex was cautious to take the bait at first. He'd be a fool not to be.

However, Essex's own ego and, if Charles was right, curiosity, wouldn't allow him to leave this particular stone unturned. There was too much to be learned and, though he might pretend differently, exploited. Essex would want to know about his child's impending birth, about Laura, maybe even Emma.

He inched back even further, bringing himself to the threshold of the school. Mists swirled around him as the school raised itself from the ground. He stepped backward over the welcome mat, forcing the mists to obscure the school as much as possible. Essex couldn't know what he was walking into if this was to work.

However, he heard Essex start to chuckle. It was an unhinged sound, but Essex had always laughed whenever he'd known something game changing. Charles pulled himself fully into the school, wondering what on earth it was that Essex was doing now.

Charles frowned hesitantly, and began moving forward slightly, searching. Essex couldn't have just disappeared into the ether, not when he was inside Charles's mind. That didn't happen.

"Sorry to be rude, but we'll have to continue this conversation at another time."

He whipped his head to the side, and saw Essex grab the door to the school. For a minute, the man was illuminated in the mists, his face momentarily restored. He grinned, and then slammed the door shut, locking Charles inside his own mind.

The door's slam rippled through his mind, and then it went black.

Erik entered the lab to find Essex sitting in a chair. While he'd never seen the man in person, he'd seen enough pictures to expect something different. Half of his face seemed like it was sliding off his skull while one of his hands was a patchwork of stitches.

"I had hoped Charles would be joining us," Essex said, "But I don't think that's going to happen. Not for a while yet, if ever."

"What the hell did you do?" demanded Erik.

"What the hell did you do?" Essex asked, his hands in his lap, "I mean, did you just have a telepath on call for almost 24-hours with very little rest? I understand pushing someone to their limit better than most people, but anyone else would likely be dead now, with or without Cerebro. I'm frankly surprised he hasn't had an aneurysm. Goodness, even using that machine almost killed Emma, which was unfortunate that didn't work, because, as I learned afterwards, she has rather sticky fingers."

Logan growled, but Erik put a hand out. The words concerning Charles were growing in his gut, a gnawing, thing, but he had to trust that his friend could pull himself out. He was miles away in New York, and Erik couldn't even make a cell phone call to anyone at the school to check on him without leaving himself and others open to attack.

But something about the situation was very off. Essex was sitting very calmly where he was, too calmly for a man who was surrounded by two people who wanted to kill him. He didn't even seem to care that two of his operatives had switched sides. As far as Erik knew, the telepath wasn't a fighter. Despite his words concerning Charles, Erik could see Essex was exhausted too. His rigid posture seemed to be supported almost entirely by the chair he was sitting on.

Yet, he really did seem confident, and Erik knew the difference between confidence and an affectation. Something was going on here, something they didn't know. He tried to catch Logan's eye, anyone, but the "sticky fingers" comment had gotten under Logan's skin. Erik could understand wanting to protect your children, but this could get them all killed.

"How's your hand?" Logan asked, "Kid always brushes her teeth, but I was hopin she hadn't that day. Give ya an infection."

Essex's smile became somewhat thinner.

"It did get infected, thank you very much for asking," he said, "I've actually considered pulling all of her teeth out when I get her back, maybe replace them with something else. I haven't decided yet. Anesthetic doesn't really work on your kind, does it? I won't bother to find out."

The growl started to gain in volume, and Erik tapped into the metal in Logan's bones to hold him in place. Logan's glare turned to him, and he wished, not for the first time, that he had just a taste of Charles's ability to communicate without raising red flags.

Essex calmly leaned back, unfolding his hands. Erik saw a small trigger there, coated in plastic. He smiled softly at them, his finger holding down the button at the top.

"You know, if Charles were still here, he might be able to tell you of a time, more than half a year ago, where I told him if he didn't back off, I'd blow everything to hell," he said, "Now, he managed to disarm all of my triggers, so I had to think of a way around it. One without metal, without electricity, that was just a fun little precaution, but fortuitous. As you've probably already guessed, I just had to give it a try."

His smile widened.

"My hand moves off this button, and the place explodes," he said, "Cut off my hand, it'll stop reading my life signs, and everything goes up. I have a feeling you might have had similar thoughts about this place, but this goes off, everything in a three mile radius goes up. Five in the direction of the armory. That includes anyone else you might have skulking in these corridors."

Erik stared at him, quickly doing calculations in his head. Yes, they had planted explosives from the armory. They'd taken them out though, spread them throughout the factory. If there were other explosives, they'd create a bigger chain reaction than they'd initially hoped for.

In short, Essex's measurements were off. It would be more like a six mile radius, one which Peter, Raven and Kayla would fall into as well if things went wrong.

"What can I say?" asked Essex, "I'm not without contingencies."

Charles awoke to something that felt like someone shaking his shoulder, a slight tap on the inside of his brain. There was the sound of tears and, as he looked around his office, he couldn't find the source. They were heart-wrenchingly familiar though, and he knew they were coming from somewhere, someone he needed to soothe.

Please wake up…I can't get in!

He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand as he clambered to his feet. Very, very distantly, he heard someone banging on a door. It was a panicked motion, like little fists on metal. A student? Someone having a nightmare? Not Jean, but someone else.

The pounding stopped, replaced by a soft swishing noise. The ground began to shake, and he felt something warm slip down his face.

You're bleeding! Please…come on. Not again, please, PLEASE!

Charles felt something jolt him. The doors around him began opening and shutting randomly. He forced himself to focus. Yes, he'd been knocked out by the mental equivalent of a sledgehammer. He'd been in Cerebro, and then, yes, Essex had locked the door. This had happened before, but Jean had been there, guiding him back.

This wasn't Jean.

DAD!

The entire building shook. Charles ran to the entrance, now knowing just where, and who, the pounding was coming from. He reached the door, heard the desperate pleas on the other side.

"Kevin!" he shouted, "I'm right here!"

The pounding on the door ceased. Charles sighed deeply, grateful and frightened at the same time. Kevin had been dead on his feet outside when he'd last seen him. Whatever terrifying thing he'd felt when Charles had passed out had clearly woken him up. And to see him bleeding just like he had when he searched for Moira…

Which was odd, because the door to Cerebro was always shut. He shook off the thought.

"Dad?" Kevin asked, his voice muffled through the wood, "Dad, I can't, the door's locked! I can't get it open! What's going on?"

Charles leaned his head against the door.

"I was tricked, that's all," he said, "I know this looks frightening, but I'm fine. I swear I'm fine Kevin."

"But…why can't I open the door?"

Charles swallowed. He'd need to be quick, and he'd need to be careful.

"Kevin, I'm not sure I can open the door right now, but I need to," he said, "And together, I think we can do it."

"I'm not strong enough."

"Kevin, we can do this-"

"I'm not strong enough!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, listening as his son wept. God, he was only nine-years-old. He didn't deserve this.

"You are Kevin," he said, "You can do this. I will be with you every step of the way. You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes…" Kevin sobbed.

"Good," said Charles, "On three, you pull on the door, I push. Understand?"

"…yes."

He wished his son was more confident, but there was no time. He had no idea what Essex had planned.

"One…"

"Dad…"

"Two…"

"I love you…"

"Three!"