A week later, Charles - with the help of Mr. Black - had located or gotten in contact with the families of all the children who'd been brought to the mansion. Within the next few days the last of the father away families would be arriving to pick up their children.

At the end of that week, Moira came to the mansion and sat down with everyone in the dining room. "I thought you all might like to know just what it was that Trask was planning." She opened the bankers box she'd brought into the house with her and took out one of the files laying on top. "Trask had wanted to use Mutants to attack the Governor of New York at the 4th of July fireworks that evening. These Mutants would have fake ties to Russia and the U.S.S.R." Moira frowned as she spoke and Charles could perceive disapproval.

"Trask then planned to ship them to a Russian businessman he was dealing with under the table. Trask confessed he was planning on starting a war in which he sold Mutant soldiers to the Soviets and some kind of robot soldier to the U.S. He also planned to end this manufactured war in America's favor and likely get some kind of medal for it."

Charles could barely believe Moira's words; the plan was horrific. He shook his head, sadly. For a few dollars more Trask had murdered Emma Frost, and tried to enslave others, just for something as base as money.

"Trask said he came up with a Mutant detecting device that has something to do with the difference in your atoms. He didn't explain how the device worked fully and the files have gone missing on that subject." Moira took another manila file folder from the box and, placing it on the table, she slid it over to Charles. "Along with the files on his mind control serum and anything else to do with Mutants." She jerked her head at the box sitting next to her feet.

"Thank you." Charles was truly grateful. He didn't believe that Mutant's would face the same hardships other minority groups had. After all, there wasn't thousands and years of hatred built up and inherited bigotry to fight against for Mutant kind. However, Charles didn't think any government needed access on how to potentially mind control others. Governments were not made up of idealists and more often than not men who were no different than Trask himself.

"Is that why Trask wanted Charles?" Hank asked, "To make mind control juice out of him?"

"I guess so, he explained in brief that Emma Frost's blood possessed some kind of crystalline property that allowed him to derive a serum out of it. He could then use a particular radio frequency with a machine he built to resonate with the serum and the crystal properties of her blood allowed him to put the subject into a kind of sleep-like mental state while he controlled their actions."

"He clearly thought that all telapaths must be the same, I don't have Miss Frost's ability to turn into crystal," Charles said.

"Well Trask didn't know it was her particular mutation that allowed him to create the serum. He took too much blood and it killed her." Moira added, "He confessed to that too, so now we have him on Murder."

"What happened to her body?" Erik spoke for the first time.

"Cremated, he wanted to get rid of the evidence." Moira leaned back in her chair a little.

Charles glanced at Erik, he didn't know if the other Mutant had grown close to Miss Frost in the last nine months or not, but he was sure the idea of being murdered in a lab and having your body disposed of like that was just as horrific to Erik as it was to himself. Charles was also concerned that for Erik the events in Trask's lab might ring of echoes of the past and bring up painful memories. Studying Erik's face in a few glances revealed nothing to him. Turning his eyes back to Moira, Charles asked, "Will Trask face trial?"

"Yes, he's confessed to quite a lot, he'll never be free again," Moira said.

"Why are you helping us instead of doing your job?" Erik's tone was slightly accusatory as if he couldn't quite believe that Moira was helping them.

"Because I believe in justice, not turning Mutants into weapons." Moira rose and would have left the dining room but Charles called her back.

"Wait a moment Moira, can I speak with you in my office?"

"Sure, what about?" Moira asked, and followed Charles down the hall and into the office, now bathed in late orange light of early evening.

"I want to talk about Cuba, and why you can't remember it," Charles said as he came to a stop and turned to face her. It had never quite felt right to take Moira's memories like that, he'd done it at the time to protect Mutants, and Moira. She couldn't be punished for something she couldn't remember. But now, Charles wondered if maybe he'd made that decision out of fear, and a choice made out of fear was usually a poor one made.


Erik went up to his room and started packing his things. It was over, Trask was stopped and suddenly Erik was without purpose again. He was completely adrift, again , and that feeling of nothingness threatened to creep up over him. Erik was just folding a shirt into his small suitcase when the door opened and Raven came in.

"So, where are you off to? I figured you'd be leaving pretty soon." Raven leaned against the door frame.

"Probably," Erik agreed.

"Are you going to go back to Detroit, or somewhere new?" Raven didn't accept his non answer.

"I don't know," Erik had thought briefly of returning to Poland, he had not been home since he was a boy. The thought didn't bring him any sense of happiness. He was alone again, adrift, without a reason to wake, or sleep, or do anything. Seeing the rebuild of Warsaw would not bring him any sense of purpose. There was no one there, it was just a city being built to mimic what had been destroyed. It wasn't home anymore, his was gone forever and he belonged nowhere.

"Are you going to call me, or just do like you did with Charles and disappear with no contact?" Raven pushed.

"I doubt I will call Raven." Erik knew it sounded cold, but it was also the truth, he did not stay anywhere long, he never stayed connected with those whose lives he passed through.

"That's it, like we meant nothing to each other?" Raven asked, her tone was cross.

"Raven, people part, its life." Erik stopped his packing and turned to her.

"They don't have to, we, we meant something to each other. And I'm not talking sexually," Raven scolded him. "We are friends. And you don't even want to stay in contact. That's not all right, we're Mutants, you're the one who always says we have to stick together. Safety in numbers." Raven's eyes had an earnest look in them even as she told him off.

Erik was quite a moment considering what she'd said. Raven wasn't wrong, he did say those things, and believed them. "I might call, if it crosses my mind, but do not count on it," Erik offered.

"Good," Raven gave him a little smile, "I'll hold you to that, I expect at least one call every month and a postcard every quarter." She then turned and left his room.

Erik turned back to his packing, he didn't have much, just what he had brought from Detroit. Erik imagined that after Cuba, Charles must have already gotten rid of the things he had left there. That was a regret for Erik, there had been things he had not wanted to part with in his possessions left at the mansion. But parting with everything in his life was so familiar he now always expected the sting of regret that came with it.

Locking his case and straightening up Erik heard the door to his room opened and glancing over saw a head popped inside. It was Kurt the little boy who only spoke German. "Hello," Erik said in German.

"Hello," Kurt said with a little smile.

"Can I help you with something, Kurt?" Erik asked.

"Some of the other children are saying their parents are coming for them tomorrow. But my mommy lives in Germany. What will happen to me?" the small face exuded concern.

"Charles is sending a letter to your mama and you'll see her again very soon," Erik reassured the boy. "She'll get to fly on a plane to come here and Charles is going to pay for it so she has a very nice trip."

"But what if those people come and take me away again, I'm afraid." Kurt's large child eyes were open with his feelings of anxiety.

"It is alright." Erik came to the door and placed a hand on Kurt's small shoulder. "You are safe and we will make sure no one hurts you. You will go to school, and learn things, and have a very nice life with your mama," Erik promised. He could see that the little boy believed him as Kurt gave a little shy smile. "Now, it's late, time for bed." Erik sent the child on his way. How was it that a child could hear his promises and all the fear was soothed out of him? Erik wished the world was that easy, wished he could protect the boy - protect all the children - from the dangers and darkness that was out there.

Exiting his room, Erik came to the one that James Logan was staying in. Knocking lightly, Erik entered the room when he was hailed with a grunt . "Hello, Mr. Logan." Erik's tone was respectful for the man who'd saved his life all those years ago.

"What the hell do you want?" Logan asked from where he was laying on the bed.

"I came to return something of yours." Taking the photo of himself as a child being liberated from Dachau, Erik offered the photo back to the other man. It was the only photo of himself before adulthood that Erik knew of and it was a little hard to let it go. Yet, he deeply wanted Logan to have it.

Logan snatched the photo and growled a little, but this growl sounded derisive and scornful rather than aggression. "Why'd you wanna steal this, got no worth?" Logan laughed bitterly, "Least ways not monetary."

"Why did you keep it?" Erik asked. Logan didn't strike him as the sentimental kind, but even as he thought it Erik began to reevaluate that truth of the statement. Logan acted like a man to whom sentimentality meant nothing, when in fact the opposite was true. Much like Erik himself. And it was very clear that the photo was important to Logan.

"This worlds full of shit. I've seen just about every modern war and fought in them, and I realized a long time ago that the people are all shit too. Me included." Logan glanced down at the photo. "This was taken at Dachau, you know what that is?"

"Yes." Erik felt his throat tighten at the memories the camp's name brought to mind.

"This place, this was the worst shit I've ever seen. I've done a lot of bad things in my life, and hurt a lot of people, but I keep this photo to remind myself that I did something good once." Logan stared for a long hard moment at the photo then he muttered. "I don't think the world's worth saving anymore, the people are all shit, always have been. I used to fight wars because I thought I made a difference, free the slaves, free the camps. Now I know, wars are just about making the few people who make guns rich. I don't make a difference, never have."

"You made a difference to me." Erik found his voice was unexpectedly thick. Logan looked up at him, eyes confused. Taking a step closer to stand beside the bed Erik pushed the left sleeve of his black turtleneck up. The numbers, tattooed so painfully, so long ago now, were still horribly visible. Logan stared at the numbers a long moment then back up to Erik's face. "I can not speak for other wars, and I am sure you are right, I am the last man on earth to say the world is anything other than shit. But what you did then, it mattered to me." His voice was quiet and soft as he spoke and Erik didn't know if he could have made it loader even if he'd wanted to. "I never got the chance before, but I wanted to say, thank you." Erik watched as Logan's eyes widened with shock and he gave a few audible animal-like sniffs of the air as he suddenly seemed to recognize Erik as the child in the photo.

"Looks like you turned out okay," Logan finally said after a long minute.

"No, and yes," Erik both agreed and denied. There was silence between them and then Logan offered the photo to Erik.

"You should probably have this, probably got no pictures of yourself."

"No, I want you to keep it." If the picture gave Logan hope, Erik did not want to take that away from him.

"I don't know why you risked your neck for me, I probably wouldn't have, but thanks I guess." Logan brought the photo back to his side and extended his other hand to Erik. Taking the hand Erik shook it accepting Logan's thanks. And suddenly he was very aware of how miserable of a man Logan was. How jaded. Would he himself become like that, jaded and miserable if he kept on his current path? His thoughts returned once again to Charles's words and he wondered, was wanting to hope enough? Erik hoped so.


Raven came to Hank's room, after her brief bout with mind control, she had decided to stop hesitating and to go after the things she wanted before it was too late. Knocking on the door, it opened a minute later. Raven spoke quickly to get in before Hank said anything. "Hank," Raven was trying very hard to be forward, she felt more comfortable with being forwards with people like Hank then she did with others.

"Raven," Hank said, a little unsure.

"I would like to go on a date, are you interested?" It felt weirdly perfunctory saying it like that. Contrary to what Hank had accused her of, she didn't want Erik, she enjoyed being friends with Erik, he meant something to her and made her feel good about herself, but she didn't want Erik. She wanted Hank and was attracted to Hank.

"I don't know why you're asking me instead of that shaved-chested-turtle-neck." Hank huffed, crossing his arms in the door-frame of his room.

"Because, Hank, we're not talking about Erik, we're talking about you and me. So, do you want to or not?" Raven asked. If she was ever going to have the things she wanted she needed to stand up for herself and go after them, and she wanted Hank, she always had.

"I think you have a lot of nerve asking me that, after you just ran off and left with Erik, left Charles bleeding on a beach for me to take care of, left me," Hank accused.

"I had my reasons, and you don't get to throw them in my face," Raven prickled.

"I think I do," Hank huffed again.

"Fine, I guess I have my answer." Raven turned and left, annoyed that Hank had just wanted to rehash their argument for last week instead of answering her properly. But in a way she guessed that had to be an answer in and of itself. She wasn't satisfied with that answer.


Some hours later, Charles was in his new downstairs bedroom sitting on the bed trying to read a book and feeling very bad after his conversation with Moira. He'd let her remember what happened at Cuba, it was safe now. Neither herself or the Mutants were in any further danger. She had been rightfully angry, but had forgiven him by the end of the very long conversation. The last few days had been a lot. It was all a little overwhelming. He was glad they'd been able to track down the families of the children that Raven and Erik had brought into his care. Most of the parents were completely overwhelmed and unsure what to do about their children's abilities. Some of the parents hadn't even known their children would develop abilities in the coming years. None of the parents had refused Charles's offer to send their child to a free school that could help them understand what was going on with their children. Yet now, he was going to be running a real school with students, pretty much on his own. At the moment the task felt daunting, yet one that had to be done.

Charles sighed and leaned back into his pillows placing his book aside. A knock on his door made Charles lift his head, "come in." A moment later Erik entered. Charles was a little surprised to see him, there had been a part of Charles that was quite sure he would have already left. Erik was the type to slip out quietly.

"I wondered if you fancied a game?" Erik asked.

"Yes, I think that would be nice, there is nothing better than a game of chess," Charles said with a strange feeling of relief in his chest that Erik hadn't gone yet.

"I can think of a few." Erik took his seat on the side of the bed Charles wasn't laying on. Their eyes met for a moment, then Charles cleared his throat and pointed to the dresser.

"I think I've a chess set on top of there." Erik looked over his shoulder to where the portable chess set they'd used before Cuba sat. A moment later it was retrieved and they set up the board and picked sides.

"Charles, I've been thinking," Erik said, his eyes on the chessboard.

"About what?" Charles glanced at Erik, he could not help but watch the subtle lines shift in Erik's face, lines that Charles had memorized without even knowing it.

"In Cuba-"

"I don't want to talk about Cuba," Charles cut him off quickly then softened his tone. "Later, maybe later but not now." Charles didn't want to talk about it at all, but he also knew that they needed to talk about it, eventually, but at the moment he was liking the easy peace between them, and the game he'd missed playing with Erik over the past nine months. He didn't want that to end, tonight he just wanted that easiness.

Erik was quite a moment. "All right," then he moved his piece. It was clear he had wanted to talk about it but was willing to set it aside for now. They played in silence for a few minutes, that easy feeling between them growing. The energy between them was something Charles could never deny. Charles's feelings about Erik would always be complicated, but he knew he still wanted Erik, knew he had forgiven the other man, and missed him, even now as he sat so close Charles missed him.

"It seems like half the time we never get to finish our games," Charles commented as he moved his piece. Trying to fill the silence, trying to keep that easiness between them going.

"That was usually because we upset the board in pursuit of more interesting activities." Erik's eyes glanced up from studying his next move and caught Charles's. The moment was electric and Charles felt almost like he was back to that first night with Erik at the C.I.A. facility. A current of electricity arcing between them, connecting them, drawing them together.

Charles's doctors had told him to think of himself as a sexless being now that he was paralyzed, that attraction would be over for him. But Charles didn't feel like it was over, he didn't feel any less desire for a sexual relationship, for love, for passion. Caught in that moment Charles ignored what he had been told by his doctors. Taking his hand Charles swiped it through the pieces on the board sending them toppling over, both sides surrendering, and suddenly Erik was kissing him.

It didn't need to be said, no words, just an unspoken invitation, understood and received. Charles felt the rightness of Erik's kisses, warm, and building heat between them, electrifying. It was a touch he'd missed the last nine months and one he had wanted.

Charles's fingers found Erik's shirt and pulled it up and off over his head without ceremony, slid his hands down Erik's torso, then lower, undoing the other man's belt. Erik broke off kissing Charles and looked into his eyes with the soft look that Charles knew was at the heart of who Erik was as a person. Not the hard, razor's edge that people often perceived, but a sensitive individual who cared deeply for others.

"What can I do for you?" Erik asked, his breath coming quickly.

"I just want to touch you, that's all," Charles said. He slid the fingers of one hand down inside Erik's trousers to lovingly touch the other man's body. Moving to be even closer to Charles, Erik closed his eyes in the reverence of the moment.

"I want to do something for you Charles, I don't care if it's different now, just tell me what?" Erik asked, his eyes still closed as Charles's fingers traced over him in loving touches.

"I," Charles hesitated, "Erik, I'm," he didn't know what to say, "I don't know what you can do for me. I've been told there's nothing." Saying it outloud was more difficult then he'd thought it would be. "And I've been too afraid to explore and find out," Charles said finally. It was the truth, he was still unsure what was gone forever and what might still be accessible to him. And he had not been ready to find out, not until now with Erik, someone he trusted, loved, who he felt understood him maybe not all the time, but most of the time. Erik's clear blue eyes opened and found Charles's, he took Charles's free hand and lifting it he placed a kiss to the back before pressing it to his temple.

"I want to share this with you Charles," Erik said. Charles understood the invitation. It was the most intimate thing he'd ever been invited to do. Touching Erik's temple and closing his eyes, Charles went into the other's mind. He felt the flickers of pleasure as they cycled through Erik's nervous system and into his mind before passing into Charles's. Every caress and touch Charles lovingly gave to Erik, Erik through his mind lovingly gave back to Charles. The feeling of Erik's hand unbuttoning Charles's shirt and Erik's fingers running over his skin where ripples of sensation moved through his own mind in a sea that Charles got lost in. Erik's mind shared everything connected to what he was experiencing. Charles felt the building intense pleasure, with every sweet touch, the affection, desires, passions, and in an almost stunning turn, love. Charles felt an abiding, deep, love that Erik had for him echoing through his mind and into Charles's.

It was so unexpected that it took Charles off guard, Erik loved him. Not just this moment, not just the physical affection they were sharing, but loved Charles in a deep, real, way. And had for some time.

Breathless and staring at the ceiling, Charles pulled his mind away from Erik's in the afterglow of their encounter. Charles turned his head to look at Erik who was laying on the bed next to him, breathless, and beautiful. Reaching out Charles's fingers found Erik's hand and held onto it tightly. The pressure was returned by Erik's long slim fingers. They lay there in silence for a few minutes, their breath coming easy again before either of them spoke.

"Erik," Charles wanted to say so much, "I…" he wanted to finally articulate in words what he'd been feeling for Erik almost since they'd met.

"Me too," Erik said, still looking at the ceiling. The words didn't need to be said, the understanding was clear. Erik turned his head to look at Charles and meet his gaze and they relaxed like that, just looking at each other.

It was sometime later that Erik moved to get off the bed and find his shirt. "Erik, where are you going?" Charles asked, frowning and sitting up on his elbows.

"Back to my own room," Erik gestured with his head towards the door.

Charles and Erik had never stayed overnight with each when they had been together before Cuba. It had always seemed too risky, too dangerous to stay the entire night, even if Charles wanted to.

"I want you to stay." Charles held a hand out to Erik. Things were different now between them, for them. Charles didn't want to be alone, didn't want what he had with Erik to be relegated to a few secret hours every night. He wanted Erik with him, by his side. Even with all the things that had happened between them since meeting, since Cuba, even all the things that happened up until the current moment, all of that didn't matter as much anymore. Charles knew what he wanted.

Erik moved back to the bed, and returned to Charles's arms.


1962 - WESTCHESTER, NEW YORK, MANSION

"What do you want me to do with this?" Hank came into the newly converted study that was now Charles's bedroom. He could not yet bring himself to call the big empty room his bedroom out loud, but in all other aspects it was. Until a lift was installed, Charles could no longer get to the second floor of his own house.

"What?" Charles asked, looking up from the paperwork he was keeping himself busy with.

"His briefcase?" Since they'd left the hospital Hank tried not to mention Erik by name, referring only to the other man as him . Now back at the mansion in New York state, Hank seemed to have decided to purge the house of those who'd betrayed them.

"Just put it in there, I will deal with it later." Charles had a hint of short temper in his words as he gestured to the closet. It was the fifth time Hank had come in asking such questions with something of Erik's. Charles didn't want to think about Erik right now, or his things, left behind, abandoned, like himself. Hank placed the briefcase inside on the floor and leaving the closet door open he vanished out of the room again.

Charles tried to go back to his paperwork but his eye found the case again, hanging above it was the lilac shirt he'd worn to go visit Erik the first night they'd made love. It was still missing two of its buttons, the ones Erik had promised to sew back on for him during those passionate moments. Charles had tried very hard not to think about Erik too much since leaving the hospital. But some days that was all he did, think about Erik and Raven too. His sister still hadn't written or called and he worried about her constantly.

The thought of Erik on the other hand, a powerful emotion shot through him, anger, or maybe even hate welling up inside. Charles pushed it back down, he didn't want to deal with it right now. Pulling his eyes away from the case, and the lilac shirt hanging over it that was now just a broken promise.

Charles moved his pen hovering over the form he was filling out for the school license. A hidden school for Mutant children, the idea had come to him while in the hospital, a safe place where they could learn about their abilities, and feel accepted by peers. The entire experience with the C.I.A. showed Charles that there was a need for Mutants to have a safe and accepting place to come to. It was a lack of these places that led people like Angel to join Shaw out of fear. What led Hank to feel like he had to hide who he was and be alone his whole life. Or, Alex, who was afraid of himself, and hated himself so much he constantly tried to make others, like Hank, hate himself too. It was what had made Erik a desperate man, there had been no acceptance, no safe place for him to go. Isolation and fear of the self was a common theme for this first generation of Mutants, and it needed to end with them too.

Charles was so very glad Raven had come into his life, and that his own life had been blessed by all accounts. It allowed him to not only see that there was a need for such a place, but he thought it also gave him the ability and resources to provide a safe place to others. The phone rang and Charles sighed a little, putting his pen down. He rolled over to the bed stand where the new phone line was installed. It was likely his mother, again . She'd been calling six to eight times a day just to see how he was. Which he appreciated but at the moment he just wanted to be alone. Somewhere, Charles knew that wasn't like him normally and he was sure his mother sensed that which was why she called too frequently.

"Hello?" Charles said into the receiver.

"Charles, it's Raven." Came the sweet, and slightly unsure voice of his sister.

"Raven," Charles felt relief flood him.

"Yeah, are you-"

Charles cut her off. "Dear, how are you, are you safe, do you have everything you need, food, clothes, I can send you money if you need, and remember your trust fund can be accessed through a money order." Charles rapidly listed.

"No, I'm okay on all that Charles, it's great here, I have a cute little apartment, and I bought fabric to make curtains. I'm making my own, and it's really great. We're okay, and I just got the best dress. I'm trying one of those Mod looks and I think it suits me." Raven's voice beamed with happiness and excitement. "You know I tried calling the house but no one answered. I guess you were probably cleaning up our mess. I just wanted to call and see how you were. Are you okay, is your back okay?" Raven asked her worry clearly in her tone, replacing the sudden gush of joy just a moment before. Charles opened his mouth but didn't speak, a sinking feeling coming over him as he realized Raven didn't know he had been paralyzed. "Are you okay Charles, do you need me to come home?" Raven asked, alarm in her voice.

"No dear, what did you say, I think the line cutout for a moment." Charles lied to cover his long silence.

"I asked if you were okay, and if you needed me to come home?" Raven asked again.

"No Raven, stay there, I'm actually quite fine, I'm all right nothing serious, and I've actually got quite a lot on my plate right now. I'm thinking of opening a school, or, least ways, that's an idea I have. The paperwork is a mountain and I'm not sure about all the legalities yet." Charles chattered, covering the sinking feeling he had inside. Raven had made it very clear she was unhappy staying with him. That she wanted to be away, on her own, and he knew his sister well enough to know if he told her about his becoming paralyzed she would come back at once.

"Oh," Raven was silent for a moment. "That sounds," she hesitated for a moment longer, "interesting." It was clear she didn't know what to think.

"I'm quite excited about it. Oh, Raven dear, can we call tomorrow? I have a meeting with a man about the school license in a bit and I need to get ready."

"Okay, love you," Raven said.

"I love you too." Charles rushed his sister off the phone and hung up and took several sudden desperate breaths trying to stave off the grief suddenly welled up in him, he was completely devastated. He wanted his sister to come home more than anything, more than anything except her happiness. That mattered much, much more to him than his own desperate desire to have his family by his side while adjusted to his life, now utterly changed.

He was overwhelmed, isolated, and completely alone, Charles put a hand to his eyes and cried. He needed to release the sudden rush of emotions, but even that didn't help really. Wiping his face with a handkerchief he opened his diary, the new one his mother had bought him while he was in hospital. He needed to write for a bit and try and get out something of what it was that was overwhelming him. He hadn't found it in him to write while in the hospital, but now he felt like he needed to. Tucked inside the front cover Charles found a business card. Reading it quickly he realized it was for a therapist's office. No note, or message from his mother, but he knew she must have put it in there. His mother had never known how to cope after his father's death, and even now he knew she wouldn't know how to say that maybe he should talk to someone about everything that had happened. But it was clear she was worried about him and wanted to help him. It was possibly the most maternal thing his mother had ever done, and it genuinely touched him.

Charles sat there looking at the card for a long time before he finally picked up the phone again, maybe he did need to talk to someone, he needed to try and make sense of everything that had happened.


1962 - DETROIT, MICHIGAN

The hot metal bubbled and licked the sides of the vat and spoke to Erik in a language he alone understood. More comprehensible to him than even the Polish the other men on the line were speaking.

"Watch yourself, Erik," Borski said as he stopped beside Erik on the catwalk above the molten metal. Heat radiated up and scorched exposed and sweat drenched skin.

"Got it," Erik assured.

"We live in the same building, do you need a ride home?"

"Thank you," Erik accepted. Leaving work in the evening he and Borski drove back to the apartment building they both lived at. Thanking the other man for the ride Erik came into the small apartment he shared with Raven.

"I made dinner," Raven said happily with a note of having accomplished something of difficulty and she waved her hands over the table.

"Thank you dear, it looks wonderful." Erik washed up and changed his clothes before sitting down with her. Together they enjoyed the evening and the company of each other, Raven relaxing in her blue form.

As Erik lay in his bed that night listening to the soft breathing of Raven as she slept in her own twin bed in the other half of the room, he felt the pull of the mental lethargy and listlessness that often had been taking hold of him since Cuba. He tried to fight it off, he was not alone for the first time in a very long time. He had Raven with him, he had the other Mutant's too, even if they were not preferred companions the same way Charles had been. Erik tried not to think about Charles, and Hank or the other's he'd left behind. That only brought pain and guilt along with the numbness that had settled over him.

Staring at the dark ceiling, Erik remembered his own words from months ago, "Peace was never an option." He whispered those words to himself now. He'd known back then that he'd never have inner peace and that killing Shaw had not been done in order to bring peace to himself. Now that the hunt was over and Shaw was dead, he had other Mutants, a job, a life that was arguably good, and yet all he felt was the lack of peace and a creeping lethargy.