The morning was entirely caught up in getting children back to parents and relatives. Charles closed the door on the last happy parents and went to the kitchen, James Logan was standing over the sink eating a can of peaches.

"Hello," Charles said, he received a grunt in greeting.

"I'll be shoving off soon professor, don't have to push," Logan added a moment later.

"I'm not here to push you out, I'm actually here for a cup of tea, which I can't actually make for myself," Charles said with some annoyance as he saw that the electric kettle, normally kept where he could reach it, was nowhere in sight.

"Keep your hair on," Logan grunted, filling a pot with water and putting it on the stove burner to heat.

"Thank you," Charles said. "Now as far as you leaving, I hope if you do choose to leave that you'll find whatever it is that you are looking for. However, this school is a refuge for Mutants, of all kinds and ages. So if you care to stay, you are more than welcome to, James." Charles picked up a cup from the side board.

"What, be a teacher?" Logan laughed a little at the idea.

"If that interests you, then yes. We adult Mutants have to protect and educate the younger generation. It's a new world out there, and it's up to us to shape it." Charles added the black tea leaves into his cup as he waited for the water to heat.

Logan glanced at him skeptically, then went back to staring out the window above the sink.

"Don't sound like my cup of tea," Logan finally grunted.

"And I find that most people who say that haven't actually even tried the tea." Charles countered. Logan glanced at him over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him, the other mutant seemed a little amused.

"Water's ready," Logan poured a little of the steaming water into the tea cup.

"Will you join me?" Charles gestured to the other cups on the sideboard.

"Yeah, why not." Logan grabbed one of the porcelain pieces and shook tea leaves into the dish.

Hank had given himself the task of stripping all the beds and doing the laundry now that the last of the children had been picked up. Most of them seemed to live in and around the greater New York, D.C. and Boston area, so the parents had been able to come quickly.

Going from room to room, Hank slowly filled his basket, "you the maid now?" Logan said, looking in from the hall into the room he was currently cleaning up.

"No I'm just helping out," Hank sniffed a little and pulled another pillow out from its case with a clawed paw before adding the bedding to his basket. He hoped Charles would hire a maid if they were going to have all those students back at the end of summer. Most of the parents were happy to have someone offering them help with understanding their children's strange abilities. Hank supposed his own parents might have wished to understand what was going on with their own child more. But Hank had always thought they had done a good job. When his feet changed from normal looking to freakish hand-feet over the course of a year when he was ten, his mother had taken him to doctors who said his feet were malformed and suggested she buy him shoes two sizes too big. But of course Hank had known even as a child - though a child with the intellect of a genius - that small shoes was not what had caused his hideous transformation.

"Are you clearing out then?" Hank asked Logan if the hairy Mutant was leaving he guessed he'd go clean Logan's room as well while he was at it.

Logan rubbed a hand over his chin in thought for a moment then shook his head, "Nah, I think I might stick around here for a bit. Charlie made some interesting offers."

"Oh," Hank was a little surprised that Logan was planning on staying, and that Charles was apparently trying to collect a new group of Mutants, given how badly that had turned out for them last time. But then again, maybe Logan would turn out to be more trustworthy then Erik had.

Hank came out into the hall and almost like the thought had summoned him, he saw Erik at the other end of the hall exit his bedroom carrying his suitcase in one hand. Raven opened her bedroom door a moment later, and in her real blue form crossed over to Erik and after a few minutes of brief conversation hugged him around the neck. Hank was a little shocked to see Raven showing everyone what she really looked like. Hank, even now blue and hairy, still covered his freak-feet. As a boy Hank had always worn shoes, even to swim in, so no one would see his feet. It had been one of the things that had made him feel connected to Raven when they'd first met. She looked different too and also knew what it was like to hide it.

"That your girl?" Logan asked, and Hank realized Logan was eyeing Hank's own frowning expression.

"No," Hank said sulkily, she had been once maybe, "not anymore." Raven let go of Erik and glanced down the hall at Hank and Logan before going back into her room while Erik disappeared down the stairs.

"Are you sure about that?" Logan asked.

"Yes," Hank sniffed, not sure why Logan was even asking.

"Well she sure as hell ain't his." Logan snorted a little as if amused by the little romantic drama playing out. Then, smiling to himself, Logan laughed once and shook his head before going back into his own room muttering "Kids," to himself.

Hank glanced at Raven's now closed bedroom door for a moment. He remembered the night before Cuba. He'd gone into that room and offered what he'd thought was the solution to all their problems. He was glad Raven had rejected it now, because his serum had only made things worse not better, but at the time it had made him feel alone. The only other Mutant who knew what it was like to look different had insisted they shouldn't have to hide. Raven had wanted to be accepted by the others for who she was, but Hank had already faced a lifetime of being teased and bullied for his intellect, he didn't need to have it play out to know how others would react to his feet. Why couldn't Raven see that no one would ever see his feet or her real form as beautiful? The world was full of cruel people who couldn't even handle others with even a different hairstyle, let alone blue skin and hand-feet. Hank paused in his cleaning as his conversation with Raven the night before Cuba came back to him. As he thought over the words he was struck for the first time by just how they might have sounded to Raven. Had she thought he was calling her ugly? Heat rose in Hank's face. That had not been his intention. Hank finished pulling the last of the sheets and bunched them into his basket.

"Hey, if you're doing sheets I have a load." Raven appeared in the hall holding an armful of bedding herself.

"Oh, um, yeah." Hank nodded, he felt the heat in his face increase as Raven walked down the hall and stairs with him. As they passed Charles's office he saw her glance at Erik's suitcase sitting outside the door. "Are you going to miss him?" Hank asked, not sure of what else to say.

"Yes, we're friends." Raven used her hip to bump the laundry room door open and entered into the dimly lit utility closet.

"Logan said he's going to stay," Hank added, not sure where he was going with the conversation.

"That's good, I think it's important for us Mutants to have a place we can come, where we can all be together, a community." Raven dumped her bedding into the machine as Hank edged into the small room beside her and started sorting out the loads.

"I um," Hank hesitated, he wanted to say he was sorry if he'd called her ugly nine months ago. But how did you even apologize for something like that? Hank pawed through the basket thinking over Raven being blue, right now, next to him. He didn't think she looked bad blue, but if he had her abilities he'd hide all the time, he wished he could hide his feet. The air felt a little awkward between them and Hank supposed the last time they'd talked alone his rejection of going on a date with her was probably the reason for that. It wasn't that he didn't like Raven, he did, but he felt very strange about the fact she'd left him. The one Mutant he thought understood him the most, who'd known what it was like to look different, who'd also wanted to fix the visually different parts of herself just like Hank did. She'd abandoned him, and he feared it was because he'd turned blue and hairy. Hank's dad had always told him, you can expect anyone else to love you if you don't love yourself , well Hank hated his feet, the way he looked and his feet. How could he ever expect Raven to want him when he didn't even want to be himself.

"Hey, is everything all right?" Raven asked as she pulled down the box of washing powder.

"Yeah," Hank said. Raven was going to be around a lot more, she was going to be at the school, teaching classes. Hank realized that they'd need to probably work together and that maybe, though things would never be the way they had been, Hank needed to try and forgive some of the hurt feelings he had. "You know I was thinking." Hank started a little unsure. Raven glanced at him with a yellow eye.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Well, I was thinking about what you said," Hank hesitated then rushed on as he realized the last thing she'd said was that she'd wanted to go on a date with him. "I um, I mean about how you're staying around. Well I was thinking that maybe we got off on the wrong-" Hank couldn't bring himself to say foot so he just left it hanging there and went on, "I thought maybe we should start over and try being friends." Hank finally got out. He knew she'd have every right to reject his offer, she'd tried a couple of times and his hurt feelings had prevented him from accepting.

But instead Raven paused for a moment half turned to him in the small utility closet. She poured the last of what was probably too many scoops of washing powder into the machine and offered her hand "Hi, I'm Raven,"

"Hi," Hank said a little shyly and took the proffered hand. They put the rest of the loads in and closed the lid to the machine. Hank selected hot water and Raven twisted the round knob dial to a sixty minute washing cycle before pulling the knob out to start the machine.

"You know, maybe we've both changed a lot over these last nine months and it wasn't fair for me to ask you on a date so soon after getting back. I think you're right and we should just focus on being friends," Raven said as she put the box of washing powder back on the shelf.

"Yeah," Hank wanted to agree with that, they had both changed a lot, but there was more than a small part of him that still cared for Raven in a romantic light. "Hey, I was thinking about some of our old conversations and stuff, and if I ever made you feel bad about yourself, I'm sorry," Hank said in a rush. He didn't know how else to say it, or even bring it up.

Raven blinked for a moment, apparently taking in his rush of words then she nodded "Me too." Exiting the washroom she added "so, friend, do you wanna go get a cup of coffee?" Raven nodded in the direction of the kitchen.

"Yeah," Hank nodded too. "That sounds good."

Some hours after the last child had been picked up Charles sat in his office, his mind kept returning to Erik, to last night, to acknowledging that he loved the other man. He was trying to sort out where that left him, them , and everything that had happened in Cuba.

Erik came into the office, he paused just outside the door frame and Charles knew the other man was placing his suitcase down in the hall. "Charles," Erik said, taking the seat across the desk from him.

"Planning to leave Erik?" Charles asked, he already knew the other man was, after last night Charles didn't know if he could stand seeing the back of Erik again.

"You said last night that you could talk later?" Erik asked.

Charles frowned a little, he still wasn't ready to talk, but it seemed that it was now, or in all likelihood, never. As usual Erik was forcing things on his own timeline, which seemed to leave Charles having to make the choice to talk about something he wanted to put off, or never speak of it. "I had hoped we might put that conversation further down the road a little, but it seems we've come to it," Charles said. "There are some things I'm not ready to talk about, Erik," he did gently inform the other.

"I understand, I have one point I want to discuss," Erik said, crossing his legs.

"What's on your mind my friend?" Charles asked, but he felt a little anxiety about the subject.

"In Cuba-" Erik started.

"Do you regret any of it?" Charles suddenly cut Erik off, his anxiety about the topic getting the better of him.

"Yes," Erik's eyes were on Charles's own, "so much of it, but I am afraid probably not what you want me to." Erik didn't need to say killing Shaw for Charles to understand what he meant.

"I have so many regrets," Charles informed the other, "I," Charles trailed off as all the memories of Cuba came rushing in on him, overwhelming him. "You scared me so badly that day, and I guess you must have been scared too." Charles paused and Erik let the silence go between them, but he didn't take his eyes away from Charles. They just looked at each other for the moment as silence stretched out, Erik seeming to sense that Charles had more to say, but needed time. "Why didn't you kill Trask?"

"What does Trask have to do with Cuba?" Erik's expression was a little confused.

"I asked you to find another way in Cuba." An awkward feeling came between them at these words, "You did pick another way with Trask, why?" Charles asked.

"Trask was not Shaw, there was another way with him," Erik was quite a minute then added. "I do not like hurting, or killing, Charles."

"I know, Erik." Charles had always known that about the other Mutant, maybe even more so than Erik knew it about himself. It was part of the reason why he knew killing Shaw would hurt Erik more instead of heal. "I always have, it's that part of you I've always seen, and back then I couldn't understand how you could kill in Cuba. I think I do now, I don't agree with killing, but I think I understand, I think for now maybe just understanding each other a little better than we did before is good enough."

Erik nodded in agreement. "I hope you know that I understand your position, Charles, and in an ideal world I think your views are right."

"We have to make the world the way we want it."

"And you think we can shape the world into a place where there is tolerance?" Erik raised an eyebrow.

"Yes I do, and I insist we try," Charles put his convictions in his voice. He received a small smile from Erik, just the corner of his lips twisting up. It wasn't mocking, it was sweet, and a softer look flashed into his eyes.

"You're going to need help, Charles, you can't do it all alone."

"Then don't make me," Charles challenged.

Erik blinked a little surprised. "Charles-"

"You know I need help, so stay, help me, don't run away again. Help me reshape the world?" Charles suddenly asked. His heart started beating faster at just the possibilities.

"Charles- '' Erik started a second time, his tone as if about to make an excuse, but Charles wasn't going to accept excuses today.

"You asked 'who's going to protect the children' Erik, don't ask the question if you're not ready to answer it." Charles challenged him.

"What?" Erik looked even more confused now.

"Stay here, help me run this school, I've got over a dozen students and no help, all I got is Hank. You want to abandon me, again, with just Hank?" Charles raised his eyebrows at Erik. "Or do you want to stay and make a difference?" He felt like his chest was tight again, he knew he never had any ability to make Erik do anything the other man didn't want to, no one really did. But Charles felt a little desperate, he wanted to make him stay, but he wouldn't. More than that he wanted Erik to want to stay.

"Can we talk about Cuba for a moment?" Erik switched subjects instead of answering Charles.

"Are you going to answer my question?" Charles challenged a little.

"Yes, but after we talk about Cuba."

"Fine," Charles leaned back in his chair a little, but he felt like he was on pins and needles.

Erik was then silent for several minutes as if thinking, Charles wanted to fill the silence but restrained himself as he waited for Erik to talk. "In Cuba, you said," he hesitated for a moment then went on, "you said we were nothing alike."

"What-" Charles started he didn't remember saying that, but it had been nine months ago and a lot had happened in Cuba.

"I said we were alike and you said we were nothing alike," Erik cut him off. "Why would you want me to help you shape a new Mutant society?"

"I know now that you didn't mean it then, but you were talking about starting a war with the humans, global genocide." Charles pointed out.

"I wasn't saying that." Erik frowned deeply, a look of horror crossing his eyes as Charles's words sank in.

"It's what you sounded like," Charles said.

"It's not what I meant." He could see that Erik was deeply bothered by the perception his words had.

"What did you mean, because that's what you said and what I was talking about when I said we didn't want the same things."

"I," Erik seemed to struggle for a moment to explain what he had meant. A further look of discomfort crossed his face. "I wasn't trying to say those things, did I sound like that?" His voice sounded sick.

"Yes," Charles said simply. "And it frightened me."

"I meant we had a chance to strike back. They wanted to wipe us out,just because we were different. I did not mean wipe out humans, I just meant we needed to act now, not wait until they're rounding us up. I–," Erik paused, lost in his own thoughts on how to express himself.

"You meant that you were going to fight back against anyone who wanted to destroy you because you were different, because this time you had the power to fight back?" Charles provided softly. Erik's eyes came back to the moment from inside his thoughts and caught Charles's again.

"You still think I saw things repeating themselves?"

"Erik, I think you very often see things repeating themselves." Charles took a breath trying to steady himself during this very emotional conversation. "And I'm so sorry this has happened to you, and I wish I could take it away. But I think you responded to that moment with such prejudice because you are so afraid it will happen again." They were both silent again before Charles added, leaning forwards to be a little closer to Erik, "I want you to stay and help me, there is a place for you here. I told you when I first brought you here, this was your home, so stay, help me. Or don't help me and stay anyway? There is a place for you here Erik. I can't make you stay, but I want you too." There was a long silence as Erik seemed to think over everything that Charles had said, clearly lost in thought.

Finally Charles saw in Erik's eyes a hint of light that eased the anxiety in his chest. "You're a telepath Charles, you can make me do anything you want."

"We both knew that's not true." Charles smiled a little back, it was so easy to read Erik's eyes, he didn't need to hear Erik say it now.

"I don't believe things will be as you say, a tolerant society, but I want to believe we can make it so."

"Wanting is enough Erik, if that is all you have, it's enough." Charles smiled softly, relaxing again. "So, Deputy Headmaster, how does that sound?" Charles leaned back in his chair.

"Like I have found a new purpose in my life, and I need a jacket with elbow patches." Erik smiled fully back at him now. Charles rolled his eyes a little, then paused as his gaze landed on his locked desk drawer.

"Before we talk more about the school, there is one more thing I think we need to talk about." Charles's tone was more serious now. Erik tilted his head slightly to the side waiting for Charles to continue.

Unlocking his desk drawer Charles took out the bar of gold that had been found in the things Erik had left behind after Cuba. Erik's eyes scanned the bar a moment then they returned to his face. "I'm not going to ask where you got it, but why do you have it?"

"To make Nazi trust me while I hunted Shaw," Erik said simply.

"It's illegal to have this, why don't you turn it in, now that your hunt is over?" Charles asked.

Erik was again quiet for a very long time, it seemed this conversation was filled with long silences and several minutes passed with Erik's gaze settled on the bar again. "My father had a gold tooth."

"I'm sorry." Charles didn't need to have the connection drawn out for him.

"That bar of gold is all that's left of my people. The Germans made us into raw material, the allies took the gold and melted us down, again , made us into currency, and spent us. I don't know if my father is in there, I suppose it doesn't really matter, someone's father is. So I won't turn them over to any governments." Erik lifted his eyes from the bar and found Charles.

"What do you want to do then?" Charles asked.

"Bury it, that's how you're supposed to be placed after death."

Charles nodded, "Let me know when and where, if it's alright, I would like to accompany you."

Erik nodded.

Erik woke, the images of his dream still clinging to his skin. Even in this waking moment they seemed to linger, his parents faces, the brief glimpse of his father through the electrified fences, through the crowds of people. Erik felt a swell of sadness race up inside him. He could never quite remember what his parents looked like in waking hours. But in his dreams, Erik knew their faces in perfect detail. No pictures had survived the war, the effort to obliterate them, as if they had never existed, had been very complete. The sadness deepened in his chest and Erik felt it tighten around his heart. He only ever got to see his parents now in dreams, and always bad ones. He never dreamed of before the war, he had been too little maybe to really remember much before. Sitting up, Erik pulled his knees up and rested his forehead against them, it was the only defense he had against the dreams, even now he could hear the German's dogs barking and worried about his father. A shiver ran through Erik as he tried to remind himself that his father was gone, his mother was gone, everyone he knew was gone, none of them were in danger anymore. It was not a peaceful comfort but it soothed the worry he had woken with, but not the sadness. The events were now long over with, yet still the emotions remain behind even after he'd woken. Erik still felt the sadness that echoed to him from the past.

"Erik, it's all right," Charles's voice came from beside him on the bed. A hand rubbed Erik's back, soothing, soft, gentle. It was not something Erik was used to, he was always alone when bad dreams came and left him in a gulf of sadness. Charles's hands rubbed gently until the tension eased in Erik's body, the tightness in his heart relaxing, and he let himself be pulled back down into a lying position. "Come to bed, it's all right." Charles wrapped his arms around Erik. Breathing in the shared comfort Charles was giving him, Erik relaxed again. To have someone else there when he was so unhappy, to have Charles care, to sooth, to share his pain and sadness with. This knowledge, new, and unfamiliar a little, eased Erik back into sleep, wrapped in Charles's arms.

Charles was still holding Erik when he woke the next morning, the skin of his back pressed against that of Charles's bare chest. It was early but when he turned over in Charles's arms he found the other man already awake.

"Hello," Charles said.

"Hi," Erik turned his head a little more on the pillow so he could see Charles's face more fully. He loved Charles and to look at the other man in the early morning was its own kind of sweet joy. Erik did not know when they'd gone from barely awkwardly talking to lovers again, but it seemed they had. A sudden uncomfortable feeling crossing inside Erik's chest. Sitting up he turned fully to look at Charles and asked, "How can you just forgive me for Cuba?"

"Really, you want to talk about that first thing?" Charles asked.

"Yes."

"I didn't just forgive you Erik, I was very angry at you for a long time." Charles braced his hands against the bed and sat up himself, pulling his body into a sitting position and leaning against the headboard for support. The dim morning light that filtered through the curtains playing across his chest.

"But you're not now, if you'd paralyzed me I do not think I could ever forgive you." Erik frowned.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not you." Charles pulled the covers up his bare legs to his waist. "And I didn't just decide to get over it or anything, Erik. I've had a lot of anger, and hurt and many complicated emotions about the whole thing. I'm still working through stuff, but I've been talking to someone about all of it." Charles paused, then went on, "I was actually thinking," and again Charles hesitated, "Those things you didn't want to share before in the library, maybe it would help if you talked about them."

"I do not want to talk to anyone about them." Erik just wanted the memories to die away, not to go through them.

"What about me, if you want to share them with me, I'm here, and if not," Charles reached over to his bed stand and picking up the book Erik knew was his diary, he took a card out from in between the pages. "Maybe someone else, just think about it, please?"

"I don't like doctors, Charles," Erik said but took the proffered card.

"I know, and I'm sorry." Charles gave him a caring look, "But New York city is not that far away and maybe you could find a Jewish doctor if that would make you feel more comfortable?" Charles suggested.

Erik glanced at the card in his hand, there were four doctors in the practice, Green, Smith, Beckler and Benowitz. "Maybe," Erik said, putting the card on the night stand on his side of the bed.

Charles nodded and leaned back against the headboard. They were quiet in the morning peace for several minutes before Charles glanced at the clock and frowned a little. "You wake up too early, we could have had a few more hours of sleep."

"You can always go back to sleep Charles." Erik smiled at him softly "and I believe you were awake before me." He let his eyes run down the smooth skin of Charles's arms, trace over the muscular defined planes beneath the hair on Charles's chest, then over top of his hip not fully covered by the blanket.

"I'm awake now," Charles said, returning a similar glance over Erik's own body, "and board." Charles gave him a wink that woke all kinds of warm feelings inside Erik.

"Are you?" he lightly teased.

"Yes," Charles answered, reaching for Erik pulling him into a kiss, the other man's hands running over the skin of Erik's back as he eagerly pulled him into an embrace.

Erik felt better than he'd expected that morning after last night's sadness. He felt at ease and playful with Charles and those warm and connective feelings were breaking through the isolation that had dominated much of his life. That morning Erik knew he was not alone.