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Chapter Text

When it was all over, Charles watched the cars drive away, leaving him back at home with his ragtag group of mutants. His family, now. People he'd promised to give a better life, and the weight of responsibility weighed heavy on his shoulders. He looked across, saw Gambit leaning with his head on Anna Marie's shoulder, her gloved fingers in his hair. Logan had his arms tight around Scott. Jean cradled her infant son. A few others were talking or playing, and he could sense Erik's mind at his back, keeping watch. He'd never thought it could end this way. He'd never thought...

He forced a smile, and turned to them. "Let me give you the tour."

It was easier to focus on the now, than to think about how it had begun.

***

It began with a misdirected bullet, the agony of it, the doctors shouting at each other to be heard over the blades of the chinook. He could hear their thoughts. They didn't think he'd live.

***

It began in the hospital, as he told himself he would recover, that he would get back to work, that he would survive.

***

It began with Mr. Jameson smiling across at him sympathetically, and explaining that Charles could clearly no longer report from conflict zones, but he was sure that there was space in the team covering the latest celebrity gossip.

***

It began with Raven letting herself in, sitting down beside his bed, and smiling.

"Someone wants to meet you."

***

Charles had given up. There was no point, not now, not after everything that had happened. He was no longer fit to do the job he loved. He knew that everyone felt sorry for him. Wounded in the line of duty was still wounded, still seen as helpless. He hated it, hated the thoughts that echoed from everyone. He wanted to draw into himself. To cut off the outside world and those pitying thoughts, and hide.

He couldn't be bothered with the exercises he was meant to do every day. He couldn't see the point, not when the health they were aiming at wasn't the health he wanted. Charles knew he had access to the best doctors, the best physiotherapists. But they couldn't give him the results he wanted. He was stuck, trapped and angry - at the world, and at himself. No longer fit to cover the interesting stories, to investigate the dark underbelly or the heat of the action. Fit to discuss who was dating who.

Charles knew people who worked to become gossip writers, and in a way he admired their craft, but it wasn't what he wanted to do. Wasn't what gave him purpose or motivation or reason. It wasn't what he wanted from life. None of this was.

So he retreated away from the world. He didn't need to work, not before and definitely not now that he had a payout for the injury. It was easier to hide away. He spent days in bed, gazing at the ceiling, wondering what he was meant to do.

He'd answer the phone when Raven rang, but he never had much to say. Had never done much. She told him with pride how Irene's pregnancy was progressing, how excited she was to be a parent. And Charles thought of the discussions he had with the doctors about the chance of him being able to have sex.

Moira, an old friend and another war correspondent, called and he didn't answer.

He woke up to find Raven had tidied up the house, was demanding he get up and do things. Even without reading her mind he could sense her pain, her fear for him. The thought that she couldn't lose her brother just as she gained a child.

After that, he tried a little harder. It wasn't easy, trying to pull himself together, but he couldn't let Raven down. His soul ached for purpose. For knowledge that he was achieving something, more than just making himself go through the motions every day.

He thought of applying to other papers, proving to them he was still able to work, but he was worried they'd reject him. Or worse, that they would offer him something out of pity, not taking him seriously. He formed an idea.

He had to prove himself.

Raven listened as he ranted at her, gesturing frantically in midair as he tried to explain what he needed. He expected her to reject him.

She listened, and squeezed his hand. "I'll talk to Irene."

Irene was always so clear on keeping her gift apart from the life of her family. If she was willing to help, then it must have been serious. But Charles was too desperate to refuse.

Raven had kissed his forehead, and smiled at him, and he could see how determined she was. He wasn't on his own.

Feeling hope for the first time in months, he headed to his personal gym, to work on rebuilding his fitness.

Weeks passed, and he began to seek out the story he needed to find himself, spending hours trawling the internet for mutant-centric stories that were avoided by the main papers. He knew that was where he had the most chance of finding a story that would make a difference.

He was certain that somewhere out there, the perfect story was waiting for him. He just had to find it.

In the end, it was Raven who found him the lead he had been hoping for, in the form of a beautiful young woman who had once been an exotic dancer.

He'd been sat in bed, dozing, exhausted after hours scouring for the story he needed, and Raven had let herself in.

That in itself wasn't unusual - he'd made sure to tell Raven countless times over the years that she was always welcome in his home. What was less common was the fact he could sense she was accompanied by another mind, a mind that seemed to flutter from thought to thought anxiously.

He pulled himself up to sitting, wishing that Raven hadn't forbidden him from entering her mind. It would be so much easier to just reach out, and tell her where he was. But he respected her wishes, merely brushing her mind with his own before he pulled away.

By the time he had made himself presentable for company, neatened his hair and managed to get into his wheelchair, he could feel the other minds in the study.

He approached, finding Raven in her natural form, sitting there beside another young woman, both of whom were sipping tea from a set of mismatched mugs that Raven had bought him years ago. "Hello," he greeted them. "I'm Charles Xavier, and you are?"

"Angel..." the woman replied. "Angela. Angela Salvadore."

"Well, good to meet you," Charles smiled, glancing towards his sister. "And you are?"

"Charles," Raven interrupted. "She's the story that you've been waiting for."

He looked at her, taking in her thin form, the hint of bruises that had been concealed with makeup, the way her eyes darted around the room. He felt concern bubble inside of him, but he nodded, taking the cup of tea that Raven offered him. "What do you want to talk to me about, Angela?"

She hesitated for a moment, fidgeting in her seat, and took a couple of deep breaths. "Raven said that you could help us."

"Who?" Charles frowned, glancing up at his sister.

"You're a mutant?"

I am, he replied telepathically, watching her for any sign of revulsion. Instead, she smiled nervously, shrugging out of her oversized jumper. He could see the injuries there, but what startled him most was when she turned her back, and a pair of iridescent wings unfolded, one of which had been delicately laced through with metallic netting.

She hovered a short distance off the ground, before she landed again and looked him in the eye. "Humans won't care about us. But you're a mutant, you can listen..." she swallowed, wrapping her jumper back over her shoulders, concealing her mutation from view. "There's a group that say they'll help mutants. But they... they aren't helping us. And no one cares, because we're... we're not seen as people..."

Charles leaned forwards in his chair, looking her in the eye. "Angela, I care."

He could feel the moment she decided to trust him, her eyes widening a little, swallowing dryly.

"Are you going to be in my thoughts?"

"Only if you want me to be. If you'd rather tell me in your own words, that's okay," Charles promised, reassuring her. It didn't take long for those words to have an effect, visibly reassuring her. Charles hated that even among mutants, his own gift was a cause for discomfort, but he'd lived with it for so many years now that he just accepted that.

"Thanks... I... I don't really know where to start."

"Start at the beginning, if you want?" Charles smiled encouragingly. He was used to working with people to get them to share their stories - it didn't come naturally to people, especially people who had been hurt. But he knew that once someone had found the words, it could be almost cathartic to get them out into the air.

"Thank you... it... I was working as a dancer. Plenty of money to be made, from rich humans that like watching pretty mutants." Angela shivered slightly. "And that's when... A man came in, and he... he was something different. He looked at me like he saw me. Told me I deserved better than that... There was something about him... He was a mutant too, I could see that in his eyes, but when he spoke to me, I'd have done anything to make him happy. He told me about a group of mutants, somewhere I could start over... and I thought I'd investigate. I wasn't planning on staying, just... seeing what it was..." She shook her head, flinching.

"So I went... and I attracted the attention of the leader. The King, they call him, because no-one there uses their human names. He told me I was a queen among humans, and he... he made me feel special. It felt... it felt like I was wanted, for who I was. Right until I ended up in the King's bed and I realised he was using the same lines on me that he used on a dozen others. I wasn't special. I..." She shivered a little again, and he was hit by a wave of pain shining from her memories. "He didn't like someone disobeying him. He tore my wing, and I... I didn't think I could get out. Couldn't until Erik... Erik helped me get away... it... I realised after a few days that I didn't belong there, but it took weeks to find a way..." She shuddered, and leaned against Raven's shoulder. "And I thought I could just... just forget them. I got out, and that's what mattered. But I saw a poster today, at the local mutant welfare place. Children of the Atom, that's... that's what they call themselves."

There was a pause as Angela gathered herself, before she spoke. "I tore it down." She fished a crumpled ball of paper from her pocket. "But I know there'll be others. And they'll end up there, because they think it’s better, but the place is just... it's a place for his ego. The King, and the Doctor. They're in charge, and they treat the rest of the mutants... like their playthings. The Doctor tries to pick out pairs to have children, to populate the world with mutants, and the King gives us all lectures about how much more we are than humans, how we can reshape the world in our image.. how they have to obey us. And it felt... at the time I trusted it, but I don't now, not at all..." She flinched, her arms wrapped around herself. "He wants a war, and no one will take me seriously, because no-one cares what happens to mutants. I've tried... I tried to get help. And there's no one. No one other than you."

Charles had stayed out of the woman's mind, but he could feel the fear and pain coming from her, and it struck him that Raven was right - this was the story he'd been waiting for. He leaned forwards in his wheelchair. "I want to help. Tell me everything."

He listened as Angela explained all of it. The work that the mutants were put through - training for those with offensive powers, and ensuring the others provided. The endless sermons from the King, talking about how they deserved to be raised above humans. The clothes provided for them - simple grey uniforms for most, with the companions and bodyguards of the Doctor and King dressed in black. Children taken from their parents, to be raised for the coming war. It was clear she felt that it was a threat, that if she hadn't been helped out by her friends she wouldn't have survived. She spoke of mutants disappearing into the Doctor's labs or the King's cells, the fact she'd been sure it was her that would disappear next, that her power made her expendable. In the end, she fell silent, and Charles reached out, taking her hand in his.

"I'm going to help you." It had to be worth trying. A non-mutant could never get through the door. Angela's answering smile was fragile, but she was willing to trust him. He had to prove to her that the trust wasn't misplaced. "You've been so brave, Angela. I really do think that this will help. I'm going to investigate, and we'll... we'll find a way to bring this to the attention of the world." Raven was right - this was the story he'd been waiting for. More than that, this was the story he needed to tell. A human could never do it justice, but he could.

After Angela had left, and Raven with her, he began his research. From its online presence, the Children of the Atom looked like any other mutant collective, talking about working together for mutual empowerment, discovering the extent of their gifts. It was the kind of thing most young mutants were curious about, when they first manifested - discovering that they weren't alone. The images showed the grey uniforms Angela had mentioned, but showed happy smiling mutants, including those with physical mutations. Children were playing out in nature. It looked peaceful. It looked innocent.

Charles had worked in enough warzones to be able to recognise a lie when he saw it. The entire thing felt a little too pure, a little too perfect. He thought of the fear from Angela, the prejudice Raven had faced as a child. There were so many mutants that were vulnerable, and they needed someone on their side. If this 'King' had managed to position himself as that person... looking through the material, it was clear to Charles that Angela was right. He was building an army, readying for war.

And yet humans didn't understand what mutants were capable of. They saw them all as threats, or else as sub-human - an attempt to draw the authorities' attention would either end with him being laughed at, or else meaning that these mutants were rounded up for a prison camp. Neither solution worked. Someone needed to go there, to expose the truth. And Charles was sure it had to be him. He'd been waiting for a purpose, and here it was.

Raven called past the next day, while he was preparing his initial notes, writing down all he could remember from his discussion with Angela so that it would be ready for the final story. She let herself in, and beamed to see him out of his bed, flopping down on the sofa triumphantly. "I'm going with you."

"No, you're not. Your wife needs you."

"You need me. And I've had a look at this place, they make some good arguments. It-"

"Raven." Charles interrupted. "You can't go."

"Why not?"

"Talk to Irene. She's pregnant, she needs you here. I can cope."

"You want to go hang out with the cultists in the middle of nowhere, Charles? Because that doesn't sound like it'll be much fun."

"I can manage. And I'll know you're safe. Please, Raven..."

"Charles, you're in a wheelchair-" Raven started, and she fell silent at his glare. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then he nodded.

"Yes. I am. And I don't need a babysitter. Raven, I'm a reporter. This is what I do. I investigate, I understand. Look, I doubt that I'm going to end up in trouble, and I'm a powerful telepath. I can look after myself, and I can do it better if I'm not worried about my sister. If nothing else..." He gazed into her yellow eyes. "I need to prove to myself that I am capable, and I can't do that if my sister is there to protect me."

"I'm not comfortable with you there on your own."

"Call Irene?" Charles suggested reluctantly. "Call Irene, and if she says you should go, I'll accept it. I won't be happy, but I won't argue. If she says you stay with her-"

"I'll stay." Raven conceded, picking up her phone, and turning it on speaker. There was a few seconds pause before Irene answered.

"Hello, darling," Irene said softly. "And hello Charles. He's right. I believe our child might arrive early, and I need you here for me."

"But-"

"Please, Raven." Irene begged, and Raven nodded her acquiescence.

"I'll stay."

Charles nodded, smiling at her gratefully. He knew that for his own sake, he had to do this on his own.

He made his plans, and asked Raven if she would be able to give him a lift to the compound - although he had an adapted car, he was still not entirely confident driving it, especially at times like this when he knew his emotions would be heightened. He packed a bag, and wrote a letter to Moira explaining everything. He was sure if he told her his plan, she would try to talk him out of it, and he didn't think he could stand that. - he needed to prove to the world and to himself that he wasn't helpless.

It took a couple of days to get ready, but eventually he called up his sister, letting her know it was time for him to go and investigate. She turned up on his doorstep within the hour, a bright smile on her face, skin blue as normal. "How are you feeling?"

"Ready." He wheeled out to her car, getting in. "I'm going to need you to use your human appearance for this, Raven."

She sighed at him, but the scales flickered across her body into a more standard appearance. He reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

"I've been reading their literature. They've got some good ideas."

"Not if it's all a masquerade for a war..." Charles reminded her, his voice tinged with caution. "Better that we handle this carefully, because the last thing we need is misinformed humans rushing in and escalating the situation."

Raven nodded. "And you'll tell me if something is wrong?"

"Of course." He smiled at her. "I've got my telepathy, and I've also got a phone, and an emergency beacon. I'm not going in unprepared. Anything goes wrong, any time I'm in danger, I'll let you know. I'll check in in a week. And I've written a letter to Moira - I'm not hiding what I'm doing, Raven. But I need this. I need to do something with a purpose."

"You're still my big brother, you know?" Raven asked softly. "You don't have to worry about trying to... to look a certain way to impress me. I know you're capable after the accident." He could feel her concern, and he nodded.

"Raven, you are the one person I haven't doubted, not through any of this. But the thing is, I'm not doing this to show you I'm capable. I'm doing this because I need to prove it to myself."

She embraced him tightly for a moment, and he held her back, pulling away to clamber inelegantly into the car. "It's going to be alright, Raven. Irene wouldn't be letting me go if it wasn't."

"She's not infallible." Raven murmured, but she got into the driver's seat, switching on the radio. It blared out tunes he didn't recognise, as they drove along. Charles was buzzing with adrenaline. This was what he lived for, discovering the truth, finding out secrets and bringing them into the public eye. He'd been so sure he'd lost this. But here was a chance almost made for him. A chance to show the world what he was capable of, and in doing so help mutants in need.

It was a long drive out to the compound where the 'Children of the Atom' had set up, and for once Raven didn't try and lecture him about mutant rights, or pester him to do his exercises. He could feel her unease, and wished that there was something he could say to make it better.

Mutant minds always felt bright to Charles, and he could feel the compound as they approached, dozens of individual mutants all clustered together. He wasn't a fan of segregation anyway, but here, in the middle of nowhere - any mutant would feel trapped. He'd interviewed guerrilla fighters before, and those who had been drawn into revolution, knew the mindset that would be cultivated in a place like this. He stared straight ahead.

As they drove up, the imposing metal gates of the compound swung open. Raven parked just inside, and helped Charles get his wheelchair onto the asphalt, arranging his bag on his lap.

"Be careful," she whispered, and he nodded and wheeled forwards, sensing her getting into the car behind him. The cover story they'd planned was for him to be a mutant who had run from his family with help from his sibling, and that meant she couldn't linger. He felt her get back into the car, tracking her mind as she moved further away. The metal doors swung closed behind him, leaving him alone. He could see a cluster of buildings nearby, and fields further back. There were minds shining from both. He took a deep breath, reminding himself he had ways out of there, and approached the nearest building. When he was almost there, the door opened.

Chapter Text

Charles steadied himself. He knew what he wanted to say, the story he wanted to tell. A mixture of truth and lie, crafted so that it would both prove himself a mutant, and mean he was able to hide the extent of his gift. He knew about the importance of consent around using telepathy. He also knew the importance of having a way out in an emergency.

The man who strode out to greet him was wearing black - one of the leader's bodyguards, presumably. He was certainly build like it - broad shoulders and a narrow waist, auburn hair cropped short. Charles raised his hands in an attempt to show he wasn't a threat, and the man walked closer, circling his chair with a look of cold calculation in his stormy eyes. He would have been handsome under other circumstances, and Charles nodded in greeting, clearing his throat. "Excuse me? Is this the Children of the Atom, I heard that mutants... I heard we were safe here."

A shadow passed across the man's face, before he nodded. "You're a mutant?"

"An empath," Charles lied. "Very mild telepathy, but mostly... mostly empathy." He lowered his hands towards his wheels. "I just... I heard about this place, saw one of your leaflets, and I thought it had to be worth coming... I hope... I'm sorry-"

"You don't need to apologise to me." The man answered, and Charles nodded, his nervousness not completely feigned. He was very aware of the way the chair made him vulnerable. Before, he'd learned to fight, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to defend himself. He made a mental note to learn self-defence when he got home.

The man approached, almost reaching for the handles of Charles's wheelchair before thinking better of it. "My name is Magneto. What is your name?"

"Charlie." Charles answered quickly. Always safer to go with something you'd answer to

"Your real name."

"I... I don't know what you mean..." Charles lied. He had an idea, of course. Mutants picked names for themselves. Raven had been through a stage as a teenager when she refused to answer to anything other than Mystique. But he hadn't considered his own, not for a long time. Using mutant names made them seem more separate from humans. It also made it harder to keep track. Charles wondered what the motivation was here. If people left they might not have the ability to answer the questions of concerned relatives.

The man, Magneto, gave him a brief smile, and then strode up to the building he had come out from, gesturing for Charles to follow. "Come with me, Charlie. Is it alright if I lift your chair?" He pointed to the step. Reluctantly, Charles nodded, and found himself floating upwards, before he moved into the building, Magneto at his side.

A man stood to greet him, nodding his welcome. He held himself with the authority of someone who expected to be obeyed, and unlike Magneto was wearing a formal suit. A short distance back, a woman in black was standing. "Magneto, fetch Caliban." The man ordered, and Magneto did as he was told. The older man strode forwards.

"Hello," Charles greeted him, and accepted the man's hand when it was offered.

"Hello. It is good you have come here, my boy. We are always happy to welcome new mutants to our home. Now, what is your name?"

"Charlie," Charles echoed, even though he already knew it was the wrong answer. The man shook his head, but smiled.

"You need some time to discover who you are. Trust me, that isn't uncommon - my beautiful Tessa here struggled for some time to accept her name..." He shook his head, walking over to the woman and running a proprietary hand down her arm. "She's marvellous. A truly devoted follower, one of many. My name is Sebastian Shaw, but most here insist on calling me their king. Because that is my aim. To lead us forwards, into a new world, a new right, where mutants no longer have to hide what we are or what we can do."

"That sounds marvellous," Charles murmured, tensing a little when Magneto returned, accompanied by a bald, pale skinned man who looked at him curiously, tilting his head and scenting the air, nodding. "He is a mutant. A telepath. A powerful one."

"And that matches what he told you, Magneto?" Shaw asked.

"He told me he was an empath."

"Interesting." Shaw gazed at Charles, and Charles shivered. It felt like the man was somehow seeing inside of him. He realised he was trapped. "But I understand. In emerging in a new place, it can be tempting to keep some secrets of our own." He stepped forwards. "Still, I would suggest that you don't lie to me in future."

Charles nodded, painfully aware that in his wheelchair he couldn't even get out of the building. He felt panicked, but told himself to stay calm. He had wanted to come here, wanted to prove to himself that he was capable of more than just being a patient. He couldn't allow himself to panic simply because he had been discovered.

"Thank you for your assistance, Caliban. You may leave." The other man walked out, and Tessa approached. "Well, dear?"

"Caliban's right. He's not related to any of the other mutants here though, and he seems genuine..." Shaw's hand rested easily against her hip, and she didn't meet Charles's eyes. Charles tried to reach out for her telepathically, but found his mind was pushed away by her own.

He ducked his head. "Can I stay?"

"Of course. We don't turn away any of our children," Shaw told him. "There is one thing though. We do ask that all who are new here wear a power-suppressing bracelet. Just for a couple of days, just to ensure that you aren't here to spy on us. If you aren't comfortable with that, there are solitary rooms, but this is preferable..."

Charles took a couple of deep breaths. He didn't want to lose his powers, not even for a moment. But he wanted this story. More, he knew he was a long way from helpless. He had a check-in, he had a beacon, he had his phone. He could survive a couple of days without his telepathy. "Of course. If it's necessary."

"It is. And it will help you to remember, later, why what we fight for is so important. Because the humans would take our powers away from us, not just for a few short days, but for our lives. It is good to meet you, Charlie. Magneto, show him to his room, and see if Gambit is free to show him around our little... sanctuary."

"Yes, my King." Magneto answered, and Charles watched as Magneto brought forwards a bracelet. As Magneto got closer, Charles could sense the frantic panic of his thoughts, hidden beneath that cold façade. Charles let him fasten it on, hating the silence it brought. He told himself it wasn't going to last. This was just a quick provision, to keep them settled. He was fine. He was still in control. There was no benefit in cutting mutants off from their gifts longer term, definitely not for a man with goals like Shaw's. He could survive brief discomfort if it moved him closer to his goal.

Magneto paused slightly, glancing down at Charles's chair and then turning back towards Shaw. "My king, where should he stay?"

"I suppose he can't get into one of the dormitories easily," Shaw answered, and Charles could feel himself getting angry at the way Shaw spoke as though he wasn't present. He made himself focus on smiling, telling himself that it would be worth it in the end, if it meant that he got the results he needed. Shaw and Magneto both seemed oblivious to his anger.

"He can stay in the empty room next to Gambit's." Shaw said decisively. "That way the thief can keep an eye on him, and neither of them are alone and capable of getting into trouble. Charlie, if you are as powerful a mutant as Caliban says, I look forwards to working with you. Powerful mutants, those like us, we have the capacity to transform the world, make it better for our kind."

"I hope you're right," Charles mumbled, startled to find his chair airborne as Magneto lifted him back down to the ground. Furious anger bubbled inside of him, but before he could object Magneto had turned and was walking away, relying on Charles keeping up. He wheeled after him.

"So, Magneto... telekinesis?"

"Metallokinesis." The man answered, clearly looking uncomfortable around Charles. Charles wasn't going to let that discomfort stop him from interviewing the other man.

"That's a real talent. What's your favourite thing to make?"

Magneto didn't reply, which was surprising in a way. Generally, mutants with creative gifts were eager to share their ideas with those around them, to prove to everyone what they were capable of. But Magneto said nothing, pausing only at a small wooden building, with metal stairs leading up towards it.

His forehead creased in concentration, and the stairs shifted, reforming themselves as a ramp. "Here. The room on the left is empty right now, you can use that. I'll send Gambit to you shortly."

"Thank you." Charles answered, making his way up the ramp and pushing open the door, which didn't have a lock. It was strange - he was cut off from his powers, and the world around him seemed strangely quiet. But he at least had somewhere now that was his space, which he could use to make notes in private. He took a few minutes just to look around the room. There was a small en-suite, with a shower - he would need to ask Magneto or someone if they could add a seat in for him. There was a double bed, an empty wardrobe, a desk. No sign of any previous inhabitants at first glance. He took his bag off of his lap and unpacked it carefully. He didn't know how long he had before "Gambit" arrived, so he started off by sorting his clothing - telling himself he could carry anything more incriminating with him. He certainly wasn't eager to be parted from his emergency beacon, just in case.

It was easy enough to unpack the few belongings he was meant to have with him. Alongside clothes, his bag contained a notebook, which he tucked beneath unfeeling legs, and a reading book he put beside the bed.

He couldn't help anxiousness bubbling inside of him. There was something about Magneto's demeanour, accompanied by the reluctant expression on Tessa's face, that was making him jumpy. He knew that Angel was right - this place needed to be investigated, before more vulnerable mutants found themselves trapped.

Normally when he was working he chose to limit his contact with the outside world, finding it served as a distraction. But he told himself it would help his cover story if he messaged his sister. Just a brief thing, letting her know he was safe. He pressed the power button on the phone.

It didn't turn on, which struck him as odd, as he had fully charged the phone the previous night. He reached out for his emergency beacon, not intending to activate it, but needing the reassurance he hadn't been abandoned to his fate.

There was no response when he pushed the test button, and it didn't even spark to life when he pushed the emergency button, which would normally activate a red light. He slid off the back, and found the wires inside had melted together.

Magneto, he was sure of it.

He pushed down his anger, and tried to plan. He'd lost his ability, and his potential escape. A check in would be coming, but not necessarily fast enough. He took a couple of deep breaths, hiding the electronics, and sitting up straighter in his chair as the door opened.

Whoever was coming, he had to look calm. Panicking wouldn’t help his situation, only lead to him making more mistakes. Deprived of his powers and his way out, he told himself he wasn’t utterly helpless - he was still smart, and he had a check-in coming. He’d survived months in rehabilitation, straining to learn how to do even the most basic tasks. He’d survived weeks in the hospital as his body fought off injury and loss of blood. He’d survived years in the family home as a child, knowing that whatever he did would only anger his stepfather. He could survive seven days.

A brown-haired man walked in, dressed in black like Tessa and Magneto. He looked at Charles curiously. “Hello dea’ Charlie-boy…” He held out his hand. “Gambit be pleased t’ make your acquaintance…” As Charles reached up to shake his hand, he was struck by the man’s unusual physical mutation - red irises, surrounded by black.

“Hello,” Charles answered cautiously. “I hear you’re next door.”

"You shouldn't believe everyt'ing dat'chu hea', but yes. Dat be Gambit's room. Gambit wonder wha' you be doin' dea', but den' again…" He waved a hand in an expansive gesture that indicated the wheelchair. "Tink'in dea' couldn't put you in wit' de' rest."

“That a problem?” Charles challenged, anger bubbling within him.

“Non, no’ at all, mon frere. Gambit happy t’ have de’ company.” Gambit winked at him, and held out Charles’s watch.

“You’re good.” Charles muttered as he snatched his watch back, fastening it around his wrist.

“Gambit be de’ bes dea; ist.” Gambit smiled at him. “Magneto jus’ drop you dea’? So rude, dat’ man.” He shook his head. "Allow Gambit t' show you around an' get you a uniform. De accord?"

“Why are most of them wearing grey if you’re in black?”

“Gambit special.” Gambit shrugged. “But de’ Doctor have other t'ings t' deal wit' righ' now, so Gambit got nothin' but time…"He shook his head softly, and Charles frowned. He wondered if this was the recruiter with strange eyes that Angel had warned about. But he seemed friendly enough, light fingered but quick with a smile.

“My phone broke… I don’t suppose you’ve got one I can borrow?”

"Non. Sorry, mon frere, but dat is no' allowed. Only de' King an' de' Doctor have access t' a phone." Gambit frowned.

“I just wanted to tell my sister that I was alright.” Charles protested, remembering to stay in character, even as concern continued to war within him. “She worries.”

“Gambit sorry, truly.” Gambit told him, and he genuinely did sound sorry. "An' apologies for dat bracelet, but dat won' be for long."

“Thank you,” Charles took a deep breath, trying to not focus on how trapped he felt. “Magneto said you could give me the grand tour.”

“Would be Gambit’s pleasure,” Gambit answered. “What be your power, mon frere?”

“Telepathy.”

“Dat would be most welcome. Gambit 'ave de power to manipulate energy, shall we say? Like de King, but not as...extreme. Still, it serve Gambit well enough." He opened the door with a flourish. “After you, Monsieur.”

Charles nodded, wheeling down the ramp, his heart racing. He knew that this could be a trick. But he needed to know his way around, and act natural, and he clung to the knowledge that help would be coming. Maybe not yet. But it would be coming in time, and he needed to stay calm until it got there.

Gambit grinned at him. “You lucky to get dis' tour, mon frere. If you get Magneto, he jus' wave at a few buildin's an' say dat be enough, if dat. Might jus’ put you somewhere high an’ den walk away. Gambit be good t' you an' give you de' full tour, show you all a' da' good spots.”

Despite himself, Charles found himself relaxing. It was better now that he wasn’t feeling so alone, even knowing he couldn’t leave. Gambit grinned. "So, dis' be our place, an' Gambit know dat' you will be a much betta' roommate den' de' last one.Next, dea' be Tessa an' Magneto. De King stays dea', an' de Doctor an' his work be dea' -” The last two explanations were accompanied by gestures towards the grandest buildings in the compound. "Word a' warnin', never go dea' unless you told."

“What is the Doctor working on?” Charles asked, wheeling towards it, only to find his path cut off by Gambit.

“Best to not worry ‘bout dat. We have more t’ see.” The man showed him around, gesturing off towards the fields that supplied their food, tended by those who had nature abilities, the supply stores, and the canteen.

He led Charles into a building full of racks of clothing, and helped Charles select some uniform in his size. Charles hesitated. “What about my stuff?” He didn’t want to lose it.

“You can keep all dat', but don' wear it - we get you a box t' put it in if you wish. It's safer - if people be workin' de' fields, dey do not want t' ruin wha' dey wearin'...” Gambit shrugged. He picked out the lightest grey colour that was there. “Dis because you new.”

“And darker grey is for those that are trusted. And black-”

"Black f' those who is special." Gambit winked, and handed Charles the clothing, which he placed on his lap before continuing the tour. He paused as they passed by the labs that Gambit had pointed out, shocked to see that the windows were barred.

“What’s there?”

"Nothing dat' you should worry 'bout. It not good f' you, an' dat is good. Gambit show you all de' good places." The man’s affable demeanour changed, a look of sincerity settling on his face. “Leave dat place alone, mon frere.”

Reluctantly, Charles nodded and continued to follow Gambit around.

He would return and investigate the laboratories later. Gambit showed him what there was on the main compound, and Charles spotted a few white robed children sat inside a room, being spoken to by a man covered in blue fur.

"Where are their parents?"

"De' parents are mutants, for some. An' den' for others, parents left 'em hea', but dis' a good place." Gambit shrugged. "Some are de' Doc's creations. He find de' pairs dat would have de' strongest offspring, an' den...we has little ones." Gambit winked at him. "Saves all de' trouble a' datin'."

"I suppose..." Charles admitted, struggling to keep up with him.

Gambit gestured. "What time it be, mon frere?"

"Two twenty."

"Ah, den' you in for a treat. Come wit' me an' we be back in time t' listen t' de' King."

Charles followed him back to their rooms, hurrying up the ramp and going to his own room, parking his chair beside the bed as Gambit sat down on it. "How long have you been here Gambit?"

"Gambit been hea' since de' beginnin', same as Magneto. Because Gambit special, you see. De Doctor noticed, helped Gambit, and den... dey came hea’. An' more an' more of our kind still comin'."

Charles nodded, as he heard a radio crackle into life, a speaker set up by the ceiling of his room.

"My dear Mutants," the King's voice beamed out from the radio. "I am pleased to tell you that we have gained another brother to our cause, a powerful telepath, who will be aiding me in the next steps for our little family."

Charles raised an eyebrow slightly at that. He certainly hadn't agreed to any such thing. Still he stayed quiet, as the speech continued.

"I know that many of you have suffered at the hands of humans. That many of our kind have lived in fear, lived under lies for far too long. But I tell you all, the day is coming when we will be free. When we will live like the gods that we are meant to be, worshipped, all powerful. I will lead us through into a new age. An age where mutants do not need to be afraid, an age where we can do what is right without the need for fear or pain. I know that I am asking you for sacrifices, I know that life is not necessarily easy right now - but it is a burden we all share. It is a burden that will be paid back a dozen times when we are free, when we no longer are forced to hide in shadows. The age of the mutant is coming. Children of the atom will inherit the earth. Peace will come, my children. Our sacrifices will be rewarded. Freedom and victory shall be ours."

The radio fell silent, and Charles glanced over at Gambit. "Victory at any cost?"

"Dat is what dey say." Gambit shrugged. "Anyways, Gambit best go now. Dinner is at de canteen a’ seven. You will be alright, mon frere?"

"I will." Charles promised, watching Gambit's retreat, before he wheeled back down the ramp, heading towards the distant outlines of the labs that Gambit had told him away from. He knew he was taking a risk, but he had to think that he was best off making any mistakes now, when he could blame it on being new and out of his depth. With that thought in mind, he approached the building. It was quiet, and he couldn't see anyone around, but the windows were too high for him to see through. He reached for the bars, trying to pull himself up, but the angle was wrong.

He grunted slightly in frustration as he collapsed back into his chair. This wasn't what he wanted. He was here to prove he could still cover a story, and instead he was finding himself incapable. He wanted to yell out, but he made himself stay quiet as he wheeled away.

The King's words were echoing around his head. The idea that there was freedom coming one day, for all of them. The idea that the fear many mutants grew up with would come to an end. He thought of his own childhood, the shame and fear he'd felt towards his power. It was obvious why people would trust this place. He could feel it beginning to dig its tendrils into him, and he knew he was there for a reason, that there was a purpose to him being here. For someone who was helpless... well, it would have been easy to fall for the honeyed lies.

He made his way towards the gates that had opened to enter him in. He wasn't planning to leave - knew that in his chair he wouldn't have much chance of getting far. He just wanted to look outside, to focus on reality, to connect with the real world.

He reached out, brushing his fingers against the metal gates. A check-in was coming, even if he couldn't call for help. He wasn't as trapped as he felt he was. He could survive this.

He thought of Raven, of his soon-to-be niece or nephew, of the family he had. He thought of writing up the article, removing the threat of the Children of The Atom, and proving to himself what he was capable of. He was going to be alright.

His chair jolted beneath him, before wheeling backwards. He twisted, looking over his shoulder. There was no one there.

Chapter Text

Charles knew that he was being watched, even if he was deprived of his telepathy, and so unable to find whoever was observing him. He shuddered. He could do this. He knew he had come to the compound with a single goal - to prove to the world that he was capable of forging his own path, that he wasn't helpless. That he was still able to face danger and emerge triumphantly clutching a story.

Here, he had the story. He was less sure about being able to get out.

He started back towards his room, hoping that Gambit hadn't noticed his absence. There was something about the Cajun man that put him at ease, but also a lot of the man seemed to be a trick or a trap. After all, the 'King' had said he was there so that Gambit could keep an eye on him.

He was almost back to the relative safety of his room when a figure emerged from the shadows, clad in black. The King's bodyguard. Magneto.

Charles could have cursed his stupidity - he angered a man with power over metal, and then was surprised to find himself being stopped - Magneto had the power to prevent him leaving, and it was likely him that had pulled back on Charles's chair when he had tried to explore.

Still, there was no point on lingering on that, not at a time like this when what mattered most was ensuring that he didn't arouse suspicion. He plastered his most reassuring smile on his face, the one that had made an important politician slip and reveal the kickbacks he was getting for a trade deal, and turned to face Magneto. "Hello, Magneto wasn't it?"

The other man nodded, silent. Charles had heard him speak before, but he generally gave the air of being above such things, apart from them. Still, Charles continued to act jovially. Training he had taken about hostage negotiation circled in his mind, and he pushed it away. He had to focus. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"The King wishes to speak to you."

Charles glanced at his watch. He needed to buy himself a little more time. "It's almost dinner, I'm hungry-"

"The King will dine with you, tonight." Magneto told him coldly. "He normally is only interested in those who he considers special. You should feel honoured."

Charles didn't think that honoured was the word for the dread that had settled in his chest. He was painfully aware of just how helpless he was - he relied on a metal chair to move around, and while it gave him back his freedom, Magneto could remove that freedom with a simple wave of his hands. That wasn't pleasant to dwell on.

Still, he followed Magneto back to the King's building, and when they reached the steps Magneto glanced at him again.

That tiny acknowledgement of his autonomy helped calm Charles a little, and he nodded, finding himself lifted up in his chair. Magneto's control of his ability was incredible, the chair barely shaking as it carried Charles onto the raised decking.

"You're really talented, you know that?" Charles praised, the words coming easily to him - not merely as an attempt to keep himself close to a potential captor, but because the bodyguard seemed startlingly aloof, and he wanted to see him smile.

"I've been well-taught." Magneto answered, opening the door. Charles wheeled himself in, glad to be back in control of his chair, pausing in front of the armchair where the King was waiting. He stared back, regal in his disdain.

"Thank you for joining us, Charles." The man's eyes locked with Charles's own, and there was certainty there. Charles tightened his grip on the rim of his wheels, but kept his posture relaxed. There was no point in escalating the situation if it was avoidable.

"What did you want to see me about?"

"I was curious," Shaw answered, leaning forwards in his armchair, flanked now by Magneto. "How did you end up in that thing?" He gestured towards Charles. "Oh, and would you like Tessa to make you a drink?"

"Tea please, Tessa." Charles answered, frantically playing for a few more moments, to try and construct an answer. He had one, of course, but he needed to deliver it properly. It was so hard, being deprived of his telepathy at a moment like this.

"Car accident. The other driver was drunk. I'm glad my sister wasn't driving, she's expecting a baby."

"I see. A shame, really. It must be hard for you."

"I'm adjusting. But with my family being unwelcoming, I thought I'd be better off here, among people who would understand." He smiled brightly at Tessa when she handed him his tea, and she gazed back with dead eyes, leaning against Shaw's armchair. He ran a possessive hand up her side, and Charles frowned a little, wondering what her ability was. Whether strength in their powers was something Shaw only concerned himself with when selecting a bodyguard. He took a sip of his tea, trying to break the tension in the room.

Shaw looked at him curiously, tilting his head, but settled back in his chair. "The thing is, Charles, simply because I don't allow my followers access to the news so that they aren't mislead, it doesn't mean I am not well-read myself. It doesn't mean that I don't recognise a famous reporter, especially one going under a pseudonym so poorly constructed a child wouldn't fall with it. It wasn't a car crash. You were struck by a ricocheting bullet, and it left you..." There was a pause, and Charles was aware of Shaw picking over a dozen insults, trying them on, and then discarding them. "It's a shame. I did rather enjoy your coverage of some of the recent conflicts, and you were a very beautiful man. You have let yourself go rather, need a haircut and a shave, but... if it wasn't for the way you're broken I'd be interested. How does it feel, knowing you're undesirable now? That you won't be loved?"

Charles gripped his teacup tightly to stop himself from shaking, ignoring the mixture of flirtation and insult from the other man. Shaw wasn't used to being denied. "Did you call me here just to insult me?"

"No, Charles. I wanted you to know that we've seen through the flimsy cover story you were hiding behind. You want to investigate. To prove yourself, yes?"

Charles knew he'd been caught. He pictured being dumped outside the compound. He would probably be able to get to a main road, but it would be hard. Perhaps Tessa was another telepath. There was no point lying, not now. "Yes."

"Then I have a proposition for you." Shaw smiled, reaching out to squeeze Magneto's wrist. "You have a way with words. People find you intriguing, the stories you share catch attention. And I have a story to tell. I want mutants to know of the community I am building... that we are building here. I want them to come here. And I want you to spread that message."

"You want me to write for you?"

"I do. You can hardly work in the fields in your... condition. And you have a gift for writing. I'm not expecting you to do so immediately, but you could share our ideals with a wider audience... once you are more settled here, I think you would make a wonderful vehicle for conveying our ideals."

Charles swallowed nervously, then nodded, trying to keep his mental walls in place. This could be his opportunity. He would be able to hear Shaw's plans, and find a way to reveal the full extent of what was going on. Shaw thought he was in control, but he was handing Charles access he couldn't have even dreamed of.

"That is generous of you. I'd... I'd like that." He glanced up at Tessa, trying to flash her a reassuring smile. He wasn't sure if he was imagining the pain in her expression.

"Wonderful. Tessa, dearest, fetch the food for us." Shaw instructed, barely sparing the woman a glance. "And Magneto, whisky."

His bodyguard moved as instructed, and Charles finished his tea, accepting the proffered glass of whisky.

The food that arrived was fine, steak and vegetables, and Shaw proved to be a well-educated companion. Charles didn't agree with much of what was said, but he found himself enjoying talking to the other man. It was strange - Shaw repulsed him, but he had an unusual charisma and a breadth of discussion that was unusual to find. In another situation, they might not have been friends, but they would have at least got on. On this night, however, Charles just kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Humans see us as tools, at best," Shaw explained as Tessa cleared away the plates, Magneto keeping Shaw's glass topped up. "They treat us with disdain, with hatred. They exterminate us, trap us, abuse us. They destroyed you. And yet we should be gods. The time for change is coming, and I intend to lead. I intend to rule, as mutants take their place as gods among men, to be worshipped not abused."

"Getting shot was an accident-"

"An accident that wouldn't have happened if you weren't expected to interview people in person rather than using your telepathy." Shaw countered, an amused smile on his lips. "No, Charles. I know you have been brought up with lies, but you will see. We are superior. We have always been superior, and the time for change is coming. You will help me with that."

"As your voice?"

"For now. But a powerful telepath - you can persuade people to our cause, and not just with your words. In time, with your power supported and amplified, you could reach the world. Spread the message where it is needed most. You will be a valuable person here. And it will work well for you. There are rewards for being valuable here. You'll learn that soon enough. For now, you will be watched closely, and you can work with me."

Shaw smiled at him, settling back in his chair, and gesturing for his ever-faithful bodyguard to pour them both more whisky. "Charles, you and I... We can tell that most of these mutants... they're meaningless. They're above humans, yes. But they are above humans in the way that a bee is above an ant. Men like us though, Charles. We are gods, even here."

The look in Shaw's eyes chilled Charles. He felt like he was pinned, cut open. But he knew how useful this could be for his story, and he knew that right now he had to keep Shaw on side. He forced himself to smile, and he nodded. "Men like us."

"You'll have to meet the Doctor soon. Normally, I'd advise him to ensure you were compatible with someone you'd... appreciate. I've seen the looks you've been giving Tessa. But I'm not sure if you can-" Shaw's gaze darted to Charles's lap, and Charles couldn't fight back a glare. He knew he had to play along, but he had some lines he couldn't cross.

Shaw smiled at him, amused. "Run along then, Charles. I'll see you in the morning. I'll provide you with a laptop and whatever else you need. It's going to be good, working with you. You will be a grand asset for our cause."

"I hope so," Charles agreed, scarce able to believe the opportunity being offered. He had found out so much already, and it was all reinforcing Angela's story.

He wondered what had become of Erik, who had helped her - some kind of telekinetic. He considered. "I'd love to know more about those who are working here. For more detail when I'm writing up your words."

"Then it shall be provided. Magneto, make sure he gets whatever information in the blue files that he wants. Goodnight, Charles. I do hope you come up with a better name soon."

"Yes, My King," Magneto answered, as Charles ducked his head, wheeling to the door. At his nod, Magneto lowered him back down, before traipsing back inside. Charles hurried back to his own cabin as the night wind chilled him. He knew he was in danger here. He knew he was going to be watched, and that there may well be other telepaths. And yet, he had to hope that he was going to manage to succeed, that this suffering and fear would serve some purpose. That he could help.

So far, Shaw seemed cooperative. He had to hope that would last.

Chapter Text

Charles kept thinking over what had happened in that meeting. It felt like what little control he had held onto was slipping, and yet at the same time possibilities were opening up for him. He didn't know what to do next, wished he still had a working phone so that he could check in with someone, get some kind of sanity check on the entire situation.

He wished he could talk to Irene.

She'd let him go on this job, but then she was never able to be entirely certain what the future would bring. She knew what was likely, and she was good at predicting that. But she wasn't infallible. Wasn't guaranteed to get it right, and he knew this might be one of the times she'd misjudged. Not that that was her fault of course - no more than him trusting someone's thoughts when they believed a lie to be the truth. There were limits to everyone's powers.

But he wanted to know. Did she know he was going to face these problems and succeed? Or had she assumed a simpler journey, one that should have happened if he had concealed his phone and beacon before Magneto destroyed them?

He groaned, staring at his bed and trying to motivate himself to get into it. He still hated all of it - the clinical process of making use of an intermittent catheter, fighting to force immobile legs into his pyjamas, and then lying down.

He cursed under his breath, realising that without his phone he had no way of setting an alarm to move during the night. It was just for a week. Bedsores could be treated, if one did occur. It was far from ideal, but given he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a cult led by a charismatic psychopath, it was also not the biggest problem that he was currently facing.

He still preferred it to being stuck in hospital. At least now he had the feeling he was doing something with a purpose, achieving a goal, making a difference. It was better than just lying in bed and waiting for a recovery that wouldn't come.

Tomorrow would be an ordeal, but it would be an ordeal he could handle better rested. He made himself go through the process, grateful for the provided en-suite, and clambered into bed.

He'd left the light on.

He considered whether he wanted to bother turning it off or not when he heard a knock on the door.

"Hello?"

"'s Gambit," Gambit called from outside. "Was wonderin' if y’ be needin' a friendly face."

He considered telling Gambit to go away, but he was the only person here who'd shown him any friendship so far. Not only that, but if he wanted to track down Erik, he needed to have help. "Come in."

There was a brief pause before the door opened, and Gambit walked in, carrying a bowl against his chest.

Charles tried to smile a greeting at him. "Hey."

"Bonjour, mon frere," he walked over and sat on the spare side of the bed, holding out a bowl of watery porridge. "Gambit no sure if you had de' chance t’ get some dinner. T’ought y’ migh' want some."

"Thanks," Charles smiled, but it felt false on his face, painfully aware of the steak he had eaten. "But I already ate. Kind of you though."

"Ah. Gambit leave it ‘den. Maybe see if Tessa or Magneto in dea' room t'night."

"Thank you, Gambit."

"When y' no come t' dinner, Gambit t'ought tha' maybe you got lost or..." he trailed off. "You ain't in a good place to leave, Gambit can tell you dat' f' sure. Better t' stay outta trouble, understand? Dis' no time t' be makin' enemie."

"I heard that one of my friends came here a while back," Charles tried, desperately trying to find out what he could while Gambit was there. "Erik, his name was."

Gambit looked away. "Don’ know no Erik," be hesitated. "Should go an' take de' food while it warm. Don't go nowhere." He flashed Charles a quick smile, and Charles wondered if Gambit was joking with him, or at his expense.

It was strange, there was so much going unspoken, and Charles couldn't tell if he was unsettled simply because of what had changed since his last report, or if the situation as a whole was too much for him.

He had to cope, either way.

He went to curl up in his bed, feigning a yawn. Gambit looked at him curiously, those strange eyes of his flickering around the room. It took a moment, but he registered that Gambit was holding his gaze for a moment, and then flicking his eyes up towards a far corner.

A warning. Charles had worked with enough people in bugged rooms to see what he was trying to say, even if he had no way of checking whether or not it was the truth. What once would have been a simple case of balancing on an overturned chair was impossible now.

Charles swallowed, and nodded a little.

"'Be gettin' late, Charlie boy. An' y' got a lotta' work tomorrow, d'accord?"

"Yeah." Charles echoed. "Goodnight, Gambit."

"Goodnight, Charlie. Gambit wake you up nice an' early."

"Thanks." Charles mumbled as he was left alone once more. He wanted to look around, to work out if Gambit was telling the truth. But he couldn't risk being obvious. Gambit was certainly playing the part of being his friend, but he couldn't know if that was the truth, or just another game that was being played.

He made himself go to sleep, ignoring the corner that Gambit had looked at with such significance. There was nothing he could do, even if Gambit was telling the truth.

The sound of a loudspeaker blaring brought him to wakefulness, just as the sky began to lighten, and he could hear Shaw's voice.

"Too many of us have been held back from our full potential. Hidden away from the life that should have been our birth right. Forced to live in fear, when it was those humans who should have feared us. But I tell you all, the time for change is coming. A time when mutants will step forwards, claim what should have been our legacy. Brothers and sisters, we are the children of the atom. We are mankind's destiny. We are the future, and those who hold us back are an evolutionary dead end. The time for us is coming, and your work here, my children, helps us to build it. It is the strong that will inherit the earth, not the weak. And we shall be the strongest of all. Every one of you here has a role to play. And today, as every day, I ask each of you to give all you can to us meeting our goals. It is only through your labour that the age of mutants will dawn."

The audio crackled off into silence, and Charles shivered a little at the fervour that lingered in the air.

Charles knew that those Shaw's words had ensnared were probably far from unintelligent. The mutants he had met so far had been friendly and far from stupid. But they'd been desperate for something to believe in. He wondered if Shaw woke them like that every morning, telling them of their importance even as they blinked away their lack of sleep. It would be easy to fall for it. Shaw had a talent for telling people what it was that they wanted to hear.

Shaw expected to see him. Which presumably meant he had to make his way to outside Shaw's office, and then wait for Magneto to deign to lift him up. He wanted to find Erik, but he couldn't risk getting the two of them into trouble, not after it had been made so clear that there was a risk, that he was being watched.

By the time he'd transferred into his wheelchair and got dressed, he could hear the sound of people outside, children shouting and adults hurrying, before the sound of a whistle pulled them all away.

Gambit wasn't in his room, and Charles couldn't help feeling a slight sting of rejection as he made his way down the ramp and over towards Shaw's office, stuck outside like a naughty boy waiting to be called in to see the head teacher.

He missed his telepathy. He was used to not using it for everything, but even when he wasn't using it knowing he could was soothing. That reassurance had been taken away now.

Those thoughts were stopped by the door opening, and Magneto emerging.

"May I?" Magneto asked. Charles nodded, and a moment later found himself airborne.

He couldn't help admiring the sheer balance that Magneto used, his journey up onto the step smooth. He took a breath, then pushed himself forwards, Magneto opening the door for him with a wave of his hand.

Tessa was sat at a computer, typing away, and she shot him a nervous smile as he arrived. He smiled back at her, and then turned to Shaw.

"Charles, wonderful to see you. I've had Tessa prepare this laptop for you - it doesn't have access to the internet, of course, but it has the information you need - access to the basic files we have on those here, which will enable you to learn about their powers, and the roles they are playing within our society. You can use that to gain a basic understanding. I think to start with you should learn an appreciation of those we have here."

"That makes sense," Charles agreed, not wanting to start an argument. He could see the logic to it - if Shaw wanted him to encourage people to join, then knowing about the range of people already here was going to make a difference. He wheeled over towards Tessa, who moved the chair out of the way so that he could sit at the table.

"Here is the information on each of them - I've been working on implementing a categorisation system of the more powerful mutants. The initial distinction is physical and mental mutations, although there are some cases that don't fit neatly into each category..." She talked him through the file. Each contained an image of the person, a description of their powers, the role that they played, their age and their mutant name.

Their real name wasn't listed. Charles clicked through, startled to find a photograph of himself on his page. He pretended not to be concerned, checking the details and humming his approval, and then taking a look at the next file along, and the one after that.

"If you click on here," Tessa murmured, ducking her head. "You can get more of an overview..."

"Tessa, dear, don't bore the poor man, I'm sure he's more than capable of navigating any system that you can build." Shaw instructed. "And I could do with a drink."

Tessa nodded, stepping away, and leaving Charles to explore the system. So far, it appeared there were a few dozen mutants on the compound. Some had partners listed.

He paused, noticing that the partner of one was greyed out. He tried to click on it anyway. "Oh, this link doesn't work."

"Oh, those aren't relevant files." Shaw said confidently. "These are the blue files - current active members of our community. These are the ones you need." He shook his head. "Tessa should have made sure those links weren't here, I'll speak with her later."

"I wouldn't want her to get in any trouble on my account." Charles answered, with a false smile, treating Shaw like any one of the men he had met at University who assumed they were superior simply because they had been born to wealth and privilege, and who saw everyone else as lesser. "I just wanted to check that it was working... databases are complicated, we can't expect her to have been flawless."

"I suppose not." Shaw hummed his amusement, taking the cup that Tessa handed to him without any acknowledgement of her presence.

"I'll take a look through these," Charles confirmed. "Get an idea of those we have... are there any particular groups you're wanting me to target? If I was to conduct interviews with them... I mean, I suppose telekinetics would be helpful? Or..."

"Telepaths, actually." Shaw interrupted. "Telepaths are what we need here most of all. And then yes, those with elemental powers. Ferals are... well. Animals. But I am sure they have a role to play, were any trouble to arise. But yes. It's easy enough to attract those to our cause who won't be welcomed elsewhere, but physical mutation alone isn't enough for our society - we are glad to have them, welcome their presence, but to achieve our goals we need more."

Charles nodded, smiling. "I can try to pitch it towards them. Obviously speak of my own experiences, but also... are there any other telepaths here?" He began to navigate the system, wondering who he could use.

"A few, but you seem to be the one that is currently most powerful, if your articles are to be believed." Shaw paused. "Apparently one of our youngest mutants shows some promise, but he's still an infant now."

Charles frowned a little - most mutants didn't manifest mental powers until they were older, although infants weren't unknown. "An infant telepath? I'd love to meet him."

"You'll have to talk to the Doctor, he's rather protective over little Nathan." Shaw said calmly. "Have a look through these files, as much as you want, and then if there's more you need to know, let me know. I want you to see the extent of what we've managed so far, how far we've come and what we've built up. And then we can go from there."

Shaw walked away, leaving Charles at the desk. He started to poke around, searching for information. He noticed that Shaw wasn't listed on the file, but he went to search out Tessa.

According to the information that Charles could find, Tessa was clearly a very talented mutant, with unusual abilities. She could work with computers, see an individual's potential mutations, and remember everything that she ever experienced. It was infuriating, the way Shaw clearly viewed her as beneath him. There was more to it than that though - it implied that she had wanted Charles to see that information, that greyed out name.

He was concerned for her, and he couldn't help thinking she'd been trying to give him some kind of hint - he didn't know what she wanted him to know. He wondered if he could ask Shaw to interview her...

He lifted his hand to his forehead, rubbing at it gently, trying to clear his thoughts. If he wanted to speak to Tessa, he'd find a way. He wouldn't ask for Shaw's permission. Tessa was her own person, and he needed to respect that. He needed to treat her with the same decency and politeness he'd show to anyone else.

He took a few deep breaths, and carried on searching, focussing now on the younger members of the cult, the white-robed children he had seen at a distance. He needed to know who they were. Most had parents listed, with links to other files. A few didn't - the space where parents were listed was instead blank.

Nathan, that was the little telepath. He looked him up. A baby of eight months old, whose eyes glowed whenever he used telekinesis - found a father listed, the mother's name greyed out. He searched the father - some kind of plasma beams, and an unnatural skill at calculating angles. Which meant the telepathy may well have been from the mother's side. He looked through the women who had psionic powers, wondering if it was one of them who had given birth to the child who had fascinated the scientist.

Gambit's powers were listed as energy manipulation, which he had admitted to, and 'charm', which he hadn't mentioned. Charles made a mental note to ask about that later. Tessa's system hadn't included a note as to what that meant, but it wasn't something he had seen previously.

Time passed, and he kept reading about the powers of the mutants Shaw had amassed around him. He had gathered a talented group. Charles could see the potential that they held, and it was concerning, knowing that Shaw was influencing control over so many. He thought back to what Shaw had said that morning in the announcement that had woken them up - that some kind of change was coming, that he was going to be the one to lead them. It was clear that Shaw was going to be capable of doing a lot of damage, if he used the mutants he had gathered for the war Angela had warned about.

He read through the files that Tessa had made available, making a note of what was listed, the abilities and gifts of the different individuals. He wanted to at least give the appearance of carrying out the task that Shaw had given him, and so he made a shortlist of mutants he would like to speak to - Nathan's father, about raising a child in the commune, a younger mutant with elemental powers called Iceman, and of course the Doctor and Shaw himself.

"How are you getting on, my boy?" Shaw asked, walking up behind him and resting his hand on Charles's shoulder. Charles only just resisted the urge to cringe away, turning to face him, and using his wheelchair to put a little distance between himself and Shaw.

"Good, thank you. The information that Tessa provided has been very helpful, I feel I have gained a far stronger understanding of what you are working for here. And I thought perhaps I could speak to some of those here... you've got children here, and a lot of parents are... they have mutant children, and they don't know what to do with them. Being able to show that you are a good place for them might mean that they are willing to consider coming here."

Shaw nodded, stepping forwards into Charles's space, meaning Charles had to tilt his head backwards to look up at him.

"That makes sense. I am sure I can find someone who is appropriate for you to talk to."

"What about Nathan's father? Or I could speak to Magneto or Tessa to start with..."

"I suppose that yes, you can speak to Nathan's father." Shaw agreed. "But first, I want to make sure you understand what our goal is. We are working to build a proper community for our kind. Somewhere that means we don't have to rely on humans. Somewhere that we can be free, to do what we are meant to, to come into our own. Too many of our people have lived in fear for too long. Been treated as worthless. Charles, with your help we can elevate them to where they should be."

"That's what I want." Charles lied. He just needed to get through this. "Perhaps I could meet some of the children as well. To be able to tell people what they think of their lives here... that could really draw attention to our cause."

Shaw nodded, thoughtful. "I'll speak to the Doctor, see if Cyclops is available this afternoon to speak to you. I believe Essex wanted to talk to you actually, so we could kill two birds with one stone, as it were."

Charles nodded. The lack of ability to hear the thoughts of those around him still bothered him. It didn't feel right. It felt like being trapped, disoriented. It was almost as though he had been blindfolded or deafened, and he hated it. It was very much putting him at a disadvantage, removing his primary sense, taking away how he understood the world.

He didn't trust Shaw. But he couldn't tell if he was being sent into a trap or not, because he had no way of accessing the truth (or falsehood) of each of Shaw's words.

"I brought you a sandwich, my boy." Shaw told him, handing over the plate and then smirking. "I'll go and see if Cyclops is free. You don't mind if Essex and I sit in on the discussion do you?"

"Of course not," Charles promised. What mattered was making the connections. Shaw walked away, leaving Charles sat at the computer.

Tessa glanced over towards him. "Did you find the database usable?"

"Very much so. Although it felt like some things were missing," Charles answered, noticing the way her eyes were drawn to his food. He frowned. "Would you like my sandwich? I'm really not feeling very hungry today."

Tessa nodded, taking one half and eating it quickly, carefully licking her fingers clean of any crumbs. Charles hesitated, wondering if this was his chance to talk to her. "Have you been with Shaw long?"

"The King has shown me and Magneto a great deal of kindness." Tessa answered. "He gave us a home when there was no one else."

"I am glad he helped you," Charles said carefully, watching her and wondering what wasn't being said. "He seems very passionate about his cause."

"He's determined." Tessa answered. "He tells us that the day is coming when mutants will rule, that he will be the one to make it happen. And I believe him. I don't believe anyone could stop him from what he wished to do... he isn't the kind of man who takes kindly to someone telling him that something is impossible, or that it won't work."

Charles looked at her curiously, and wondered if there was something she wasn't saying, if she was trying to give him a message. He kept thinking of those grey names. He paused. "Do you want the other half of my sandwich?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she said. "You should eat."

He nodded, picking it up and taking a bite just in time, as Magneto walked into the room. He looked around, his gaze settling on Charles and Tessa, and Charles felt his wheelchair be moved back a short distance. He shot Magneto a glare. Simply because the other man had the ability to move him around didn't mean that such behaviour was justified. He finished eating the sandwich, just as Shaw walked back into the room, followed by a young man in black with a golden visor across his face, and a small child curled up in his arms. A man followed, dressed smartly in a suit.

Shaw nodded. "Charles, meet the Doctor, Nathaniel Essex, and his prize experiments."

"Really, Shaw," the Doctor interrupted. "You know that Cyclops means far more to me than simply being an experiment. He is the future for all of us, and his son... his son is the first of a new line of mutants. A future for our kind, powerful beyond the imagination of most. You shouldn't dismiss him as just an experiment. Project X is an experiment. Cyclops is... a miracle. A specimen of mutant ability, far beyond what people think."

"A hero to us all," Shaw answered with a smirk. "I am sure that he will go on and prove invaluable in what is to come..."

Cyclops stood between the two of them, his son cradled to his chest, rocking the infant and humming tunelessly beneath his breath.

"Well, here he is." Shaw nodded. Cyclops glanced up to the Doctor.

"Tell him how happy you are here," the Doctor answered. "And how your son is thriving."

"He is." Cyclops agreed, smiling down at the infant in his arms. "He is doing wonderfully, thank you."

Charles nodded, leaning forwards in his chair, trying to keep his body language open and welcoming. It was something he was used to doing in interviews - and while he'd rather have spoken to Cyclops in private, he got the feeling that asking would not be well received.

"Your son looks very healthy. What is his name?"

"Nathaniel." The Doctor interrupted as the younger man opened his mouth. A slight frown seemed to cross Cyclops's face, although it was hard to tell with the visor covering his eyes.

"Thank you, but I thought I was meant to speak to Cyclops?" Charles asked gently but firmly. He had already decided he couldn't push his questions too far - he never wanted to be responsible for getting an interviewee hurt, or otherwise in trouble, and it was blindingly obvious that Cyclops couldn't speak freely.

"He's marvellous. I was told he was a telepath?" Charles asked, gesturing towards the power dampener that was fastened around his own wrist.

"He's showing signs of telepathy and telekinesis," Cyclops answered, his expression softening. "He's remarkably advanced for his age."

"And he gets his telepathy from his mother?"

Cyclops's head jerked up slightly, towards the Doctor, and Essex shook his head. "There's no need to discuss that. What matters is that young Nathaniel is full of promise."

"I can see that," Charles soothed over the man's bruised ego. "He looks very healthy."

"He is... he uses his telepathy to let me know if he's unhappy..." Cyclops's red visor was tilted towards the infant, who gurgled away sleepily. "And he uses little telekinetic bubbles to keep himself from any harm... he wiggled off a table the other day, and used it to catch himself..."

"And you find this a good place to raise your child?"

"Of course." Cyclops seemed almost confused by the question. "This is the best place for young mutants. The King is very kind to let us stay here, and to include us in his vision."

"And what is your role in his vision?" Charles asked.

"I fathered Nathaniel..." Cyclops brushed a stray curl out of his son's face. "And I protect both the King and the Doctor from threats. There is no end to those who do not agree with the King's vision, who want to see mutants subjugated, imprisoned. Even killed..." He swallowed and shook his head. "My own parents were killed because their children showed signs of mutation. If the Doctor hadn't taken me and my brother in..." He shook his head, and Essex cleared his throat.

"This is a good place for mutants." Cyclops finished, looking down at his child. "Will that be all?"

"You've done wonderfully," Charles promised him, afraid of getting him into trouble if he dared prolong the questioning.

"You can go." Shaw dismissed Cyclops with a wave of his hand, and the young man walked out, keeping his child against his chest. Charles wanted to ask about the infant's mother, but stayed quiet as Essex stepped forwards, offering him his hand to shake.

"Shaw tells me you are going to bring us a flood of new recruits."

"That's the plan." Charles agreed. "Too many of our kind live in fear of what they are. The thought of a community... somewhere they can belong. Well, it clearly has helped Cyclops." He was careful to praise the answers the other man had given, to keep him from trouble. Essex nodded.

"We are going to transform the world. Shaw has the vision to make it happen, and I am playing my own small part in it, helping mutants to develop their abilities and ensuring our next generation are even stronger... dear little Nathaniel is a wonder of modern science."

Charles nodded, listening and trying to ignore the alarm bells that were sounding in his mind. Angela had been right when she'd said this place was dangerous, but she had not conveyed the full extent of it. The way Shaw spoke, it was clear he thought that actually taking over from humans would be possible.

That night, Charles ate with the others, but he was lost in his own thoughts. Long tables stretched out, the mutants eating the same watery porridge that Gambit had brought back the previous day, and a recorded speech from Shaw drowned out any attempt at conversation. He felt tired. He yawned slightly, almost jumping when he realised Gambit had taken a seat opposite him. Gambit winked, and he found himself smiling in response.

Gambit timed his eating so that they finished at the same time, slipping out of the canteen behind him.

"Gambit should show y’ his powers, mon frere," Gambit told him, leading him to their rooms, crouching to pick up a handful of gravel from the ground. "Some nights Gambit climb de’ roof with Cyclops, but Gambit guessin' y' not up f' dat', non?"

"No, probably best not to." Charles agreed, frowning a little at the revelation of who had been Gambit's last roommate.

"I met Cyclops earlier... he... had his son with him." Charles tried to pick his words carefully, not sure if he was able to trust Gambit, but also knowing the other man was currently the only man on his side. "He and the Doctor...I saw he was in black..."

"De Doctor an' Cyclops? Never, mon frere. Daddy's perfect lil' soldier boy? He got a stick s' far up his derriere dea' ain't no room f' anything else." Gambit grinned at him, crouching on the ramp so that he and Charles were around the same height. He tossed a piece of gravel in his hand a couple of times before throwing it up, where it popped like a little firework.

Charles applauded, and Gambit repeated the action with another few of the rocks, tiny pops echoing through the air.

"Gambit hear dat' last night y' was lookin' f' a way out. Tryin' t' leave. Dat'...dat' would not be a good idea, mon frere. Y’ could ge’ yerself hurt, an’ Gambit likes de' company..."

"Thank you." Charles swallowed anxiously. "I wasn't planning on leaving. I was just restless.

"Dat’’s good. Y’ ever wanna' talk abou' stuff, y’ask Gambit t’ take y’ outside, show off him power, den we can talk, oui?"

"Oui." Charles agreed. "The corner... they're monitoring us?"

"Naturalmente. De' King's belle femme, pretty Tessa, she knows everythin'. An' if she don' like y', den'...dat' spell trouble." He grinned. "She like Gambit, t’ough. Everyone like Gambit, he jus' one a dem' people...but de' King always lookin' f' those dat' he can make an example of. Be careful dat' is not you, mon frere."

"Are you happy here?"

"Where else could Gambit go wit' demon eyes like dis'? Dea' be worse places, an' Gambit...he owe de' Doctor a lot. Dere was… Gambit made his choice." The man shrugged, sending up another volley of charged gravel. "Wha' Gambit want t' know is dis'...dea' be those a' us with good powers, useful ones, an' den' de' ones with bad powers...powers dat' can harm others. Harm other mutants. Dere' was... a boy, dat’ could make mutant's powers stop. A woman who drain da' energy of others. What'chu t'ink should happen t' dem'"

"They should be helped." Charles said with conviction. "Same as any other mutant. We can find a way. Science... Science saved my life. There must be ways to help."

Gambit looked at him curiously, and then nodded. He reached out, and squeezed Charles's hand. "Gambit thanks you, mon frere. Y' be right, dat' what Gambit choose t' believe.”

"What does the King say?" Charles asked. Gambit shook his head.

"Better t’ not worry yourself wi’ dat’."

Chapter Text

Safely back in his room, Charles mentally ticked off another day. Five days now until help would be coming. He would be fine. He could survive five days. He had information at his fingertips. He had people on his side and he had hope... he had to have hope that it would all work out soon enough. He made his way over to the window, leaning against the windowsill to look out.

He watched - there was Magneto, his figure unmistakable as he prowled the compound. A few others, heading back to the dormitories. Cyclops standing there, calling out orders, no sign of his son. Charles was painfully aware of the presence of the recorder in his room, the knowledge that he might be being watched, and at the very least was being listened to. He hadn't asked Gambit about his charm. That, at least, was information he was permitted access to. He had to gather what he could, when everything was working against him.

He wheeled across to knock on Gambit's door, and the other man opened with a smile.

"Bonjoyr, Charlie, Gambit jus’ thinkin’ a you..." He grinned. "Want anotha’ firework display?"

"No... I was just looking in the files earlier, and it mentioned your abilities included... "Charm"? You never said that..."

"Dat' because...mon frere, y' are a telepath. Y' know what it like, some people...de' think they know all about ye' gift, dat' it make y' bad, dat' y' want nothin' more den' t' use it t' control dem'. Oui?"

"Yes." Charles knew that. He'd never been drawn to mutant separatism, because he knew even among mutants he would be unwelcome. But if he were actually intending to work for Shaw and recruit telepaths, that prejudice would be something that he would have relied upon.

"Der' a thing dat' Gambit can do. When he talk, so dat' people...dey' want t' do what Gambit tell dem'. He don't use it much, but it has saved his life more den' he can remember. But...Gambit tell people dis' an'...an' dey' think he will use it t' control dem', so he never tell a soul."

"I get it." Charles promised, shooting the other man a smile. "And I don't... I don't think you're bad, or anything, for whatever form your gift takes."

"Gambit does no’ need y’ pity, no’ for dat’." He grinned. "But, y’know de’ truth now. Go t’ sleep, mon frere."

"Goodnight, Gambit." Charles headed back to his room, feeling a little better now that he knew what was going on.

***

Sleep came easily that night, although he could feel hunger beginning to awake inside of him. He pushed it aside, focused on resting and trying to conserve his strength. He'd been right that there was a story here. He had a chance to help people, to save those in need, and that at least was a comfort.

He could prove he had worth. That he was still capable of investigating stories that others shied away from. He dreamed of being at home, of embracing his sister and her wife, and knowing he had made the world safer. Not through playing Shaw's game, but by resisting it. By offering an alternative to the lies the man peddled.

He was woken by the sound of Shaw's voice, beaming out promises of what the fledgling group would achieve. That the future was in their hands.

He groaned, wanting to burrow deeper under the pillow, wanting to distance himself from the man he despised, and his imposing bodyguard. He wanted to ignore the responsibilities he had chosen for himself, because he was exhausted and hungry.

He pulled on his clothes, clambered out of bed and settled into his wheelchair, pushing himself towards the door. He wondered how long he would have been able to hold out, if he hadn't known that aid was coming. Everything Shaw had created - the food, the isolation, the lack of sleep - was designed to wear down resistance, leave someone vulnerable to listening to whatever he had to say. Charles recognised that, and it was still working.

He knocked on Gambit's door, and it was a moment before the other man opened it, wearing only a pair of black boxers and a loose black dressing gown around his shoulders. He was blinking back sleep and stretching.

"Okay dere, Charlie?"

"Good, thank you." Charles smiled. "Just wanted to check you were alright."

"Gambit always fine." Gambit answered, turning away. "An' you have work t'do, dontchya?"

"Yeah." Charles wheeled down the ramp and across to Shaw's building. His lack of telepathy was itching under his skin, worse than ever now. He waited for a few moments before the door opened and Magneto walked out. He looked angry, lifting Charles into the air without waiting for his permission, but placing him down as tenderly as ever. Magneto's hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides, and he looked like he wanted to throw a punch.

Charles breathed through the terror that flared within him, old habits lingering even so many years later. He was safe now. He didn't need to be afraid. He shot Magneto a glare. "You should calm down, you'll melt something."

He wanted to lie, to say he wasn't scared of the man in front of him, even if the truth was that he was afraid. He wasn't going to let himself be bullied. But he thought of the connections he was making, and held his tongue.

The door finally opened, and Shaw waved him inside, Tessa standing a short distance away. Charles stared at her, unable to look away. She was still dressed in plain black, but what caught the eye was the fact she had been crying, and the teartracks had washed away her makeup. She reached up, wiping beneath her eyes, and he saw the twin scars running down her cheeks. Her eyes locked with his own, and he wondered if she wanted him to see.

Shaw glanced towards her and tutted. "Tessa, go and clean up your face."

She walked away, leaving the two of them alone. Charles looked up at Shaw, who was standing a little too close. "What happened?"

"Nothing you need worry about." Shaw shrugged. "You know how these women get." He gave Charles a shove in the direction of the computer. "I'd like you to start writing something up today. About our goals here, about mutant superiority and mutant security. About the options we provide..."

Charles nodded slowly. not feeling sure he wanted to do that when everything in his mind was screaming that this was a trap. It was strange - he thought he should be fine, but he didn't feel alright at all. Tessa slipped back into the room as he fumbled his way through the opening sentences, the scars once more concealed. He worried for her. He kept glancing her way.

"Tessa, fetch us drinks." Shaw commanded, before walking around and leaning in to peer at Charles's laptop screen, shaking his head. "That's not much. I know you can do better."

"I'm trying."

"I know you can do better Charles. Think of Gambit, his strange eyes... this is his home. This is little Nathan's home, Tessa's home, Magneto's home. This is your home. And we can be happy here. This is an opportunity to talk to the world about what we are building here."

"Do I put my name to it?"

"Mine." Shaw said firmly. "I want to speak to these people directly, carry my message across the world."

Charles felt a faint flicker of relief that at least he could maintain his cover. He paused, trying to type, aware of Shaw standing a little too close. He was tempted to shove his chair backwards and run over Shaw's foot, but fear stayed his hand. He kept trying to write, talking a little. "I need to see the farm etcetera, to really understand it."

"Of course, I will have Magneto give you a tour. Do tell me if he drops you at all, I will have to punish him." Shaw's words were accompanied by a broad smile. Magneto just glared straight ahead, angry. Charles couldn't help feeling furious at him, blaming the bodyguard for Tessa's tears. "You are writing slowly."

"I'm trying to craft the narrative. Make this sound truly desirable, because it is. It is a home for people in need, you understand."

"I do."

Shaw smiled at him. "You see, Charles, we're giving our people hope. There is nowhere outside these walls where those with physical mutations would be welcomed... did you know your little nephew is showing signs... his mothers didn't want to know, but I think it's important that you understand what is going on. How the shelter of what we are building here impacts on your own family."

Charles stared at him. "Irene's medical records are confidential."

"And a lot of mutant children are...disposed of. Better that I am informed. That I can offer the parents hope of a better life for their children." Shaw smiled. "And you do want your little nephew to live a good life, don't you?"

Charles nodded, his mouth dry. Irene's baby was the most important person in the world to him at that moment, and Shaw must have known it. It was a threat. He couldn't include coded messages in what he wrote for Shaw. He had to do what he was told, and later when it was all done he could explain the truth.

"Was... was that a threat?"

"Of course not, my boy, just reminding you of the importance of all of our kind feeling safe, being protected from the cruelties of the world." Shaw answered. "Somewhere like this would be good for a child with a mutation, don't you agree?"

"I do," Charles answered, because that felt expected. He continued to write, listening to Shaw drone on. Magneto returned and stood by the doorway, guarding, while Tessa leaned against a wall waiting to be called, and Charles wrote up his ideas. Part way through, seemingly content with what had been achieved, Shaw walked out. If Magneto hadn't remained, Charles would have relaxed. As it was, it felt like a trap.

He tried to ignore the man's gaze on him, or the sound of Tessa's breathing. She fetched him a glass of water and he mumbled thanks, keeping typing, knowing Shaw knew where his sister-in-law went for her scans.

For a short while, the room was quiet. He looked up, and was startled to find that Magneto had rested against Tessa, her arms around him.

He wondered if they were lovers, or if Tessa was even more trapped than he had thought. There was something about them that worried him. Tessa had tried to warn him before, had shown his scars, and now she was standing embracing Magneto in silence.

He didn't stare. When this was all over, he would find a way to ensure she got all of the help she could need. She deserved that for her help, her and Gambit both. Because it was quite clear that she was on his side, and if Shaw or Magneto found that out, well, the situation would get worse.

Tessa was brushing her fingers through Magneto’s hair, and there was a tenderness there that made Charles relax a little - even if Magneto didn’t know Tessa’s plans, it was clear they cared for each other. He leaned in to her embrace, reaching up to brush away a stray smear of makeup. Magneto looked relaxed at that moment, more at ease than he had ever seen him. Charles tried to not even look at the reflection in his computer screen - this moment wasn’t meant for him.

A movement at the wall in the corner of his eye caught Charles’s attention, and he saw the wall itself ripple slightly. He blinked, and a moment later a small child’s head emerged from the brickwork. They were wearing white, with dark hair swept back into the beginnings of a ponytail.

The child cleared their throat. “Papa?”

Magneto moved away from Tessa, turning towards the kid. “He’s not here right now Shinobi,” he crouched down, putting himself on the boy’s level. “You should get to class with the others… Tessa, can you stay and assist Charles?”

She nodded, and carefully Magneto picked up the little boy, lifting him up onto his hip and walking from the room.

Charles glanced after the two of them. The boy was Shaw’s son, clearly, but he didn’t look like Tessa.

He didn't want to ask. He kept working on the laptop, setting out a description of the place that didn't feel real.

Fields of crops ensure a bountiful harvest, as mutants work together to make the most of their gifts, and guide each other to success. Not held back by human expectations. Children dressed in white play and race around, free of concerns that would linger in the outside world. They are home, they are safe.

Tessa walked closer to him, leaning against his chair so she could read over his shoulder. "I hope you found the database easy to navigate."

"It's good." Charles answered quickly. "You've set it up so clearly... you're a very skilled woman. Were you working in database management before you came here?"

"I've been with the King for a while. Not as long as Magneto, but... he found me when I was lost. He offered me a home." She shrugged, reading through his article. "You've used British spelling there," she gestured, her finger brushing against the screen. He focused on where she had pointed. Not safe

He nodded slightly, his heart hammering in his chest. He'd known, but being told still terrified him. "Gambit speaks highly of you."

"That man is a flatterer and a flirt." She answered, but there was a faint smile on her lips. "Occasionally he has good ideas." She shifted her weight slightly, frowning. "You should keep writing, I'm sure the King will return soon."

She was right. It wasn't long before Shaw appeared, snapping his fingers at Tessa to fetch him a drink. "Where's Magneto?"

"He was taking Shinobi to his lessons," Tessa answered quickly, her head ducked, her body language far meeker now than it had been before.

"Ah. Go and fetch him, Tessa my dear. I need to talk to Charles, and I want Magneto here afterwards."

Tessa nodded, leaving Charles alone. Charles tried not to panic, to tell himself he could handle whatever was about to happen. He was afraid, but he wasn't helpless. He'd written what Shaw wanted. It was fine. It was all going to be fine, he didn't need to panic. The fear clawed up his throat.

Shaw walked over, dragging his chair back from the computer, and beckoning Charles to sit by him as he sat in his armchair.

"What is it?" he asked, his heart racing.

"Nothing bad, Charles. Nothing bad at all. Just that Essex told me that you'd been asking Gambit for a phone, and it occurred to me that you must miss your family dreadfully, especially with a little nephew on the way."

"A little. But they're not interested in joining this compound." Charles said quickly. "It's likely that Irene will... if you've seen her notes, you know complications are possible, she needs her doctor-"

"We have medics here, but no, I understand. I do hope that in time your family will join us, but they don't have to yet. They will come when they are ready. No, I simply thought you must miss them dearly, and it would be good for you to have the opportunity to talk to them." He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

Raven's number was already typed in, and Charles felt a wave of nausea sweep through him.

"Why don't you give them a call, let them know you're happy here." Shaw suggested. "They can join if you want..." He looked at Charles expectantly. Magneto walked in, followed by Tessa, and Charles was aware of how easily Magneto could tear his chair apart, could crush him, could hurt him. He cleared his throat and smiled. "I'll let them know."

He hit call, because he felt he could do nothing else.

"Hello?" Raven's voice answered almost instantly. "Raven speaking, who is this-"

"Charles." Charles interrupted her. "It's me. I just wanted to let you know that everything is going well here, I'm getting a lot of writing done..." He knew he could have said something. But Shaw knew where she was. Knew about the baby. He couldn't stop picturing Cyclops's child, couldn't help worrying what would become of his little nephew if the 'Doctor' got his hands on him. "I'm really settling in."

"That's good." Raven answered, and she sounded a little confused.

"I'm not sure when I can next be in contact," Charles told her, because he couldn't put her and Irene in harm's way. "But I miss and love all three of you."

"We love you too," Raven agreed. "Irene said she still had faith, that she knew things would be hard, that she was sure you could pull through. She wanted me to let you know that."

"Thank you. Both of you. I'm sure I'll talk to you soon, I just wanted to let you know that everything is fine right now."

"Thanks Charles. Feeling a bit better?"

Charles considered her question. In a way, things weren't better. Things weren't okay. He was trapped, he wasn't sure if she'd still go ahead with the check in, and his family were in danger for the first time in his reporting career. On the other hand, he felt hope. He felt ready for what was next. "Yes. A lot better, thank you."

"Okay... I'd better go, Irene wants me to make her some tea. Take care."

"You too. All of you." Charles answered, flinching as she hung up and left him alone. Shaw smiled at him broadly.

"There we go. I'm sure you'll be able to concentrate on your work much better now that you know that she's alright..." He considered. "And Magneto, I want you to keep an extra close eye on our special guest. If he has any problems, do what you can to solve them." He strode back over to the computer, looking through what had been written. "A good start. Magneto, show him around."

"Thank you." Charles choked out, even if he didn't want to, because he didn't want to provoke the other man. His wheelchair lifted slightly off the floor as Magneto stepped forwards.

"I can show you around if that's alright?"

"Wonderful."

"There's my boy," Shaw smirked. "Have fun. And don't hurry back, I need to have a word with Tessa about her record keeping."

Magneto frowned a little, but turned and walked away, hovering Charles behind him.

Charles wasn't entirely sure how he felt about hovering along in midair, rather than being able to control his movements. Still, he awkwardly folded his arms across his lap, as Magneto floated him out towards the fields, where numerous people in grey were hard at work. He smiled at Magneto, trying to appear non-threatening, someone that you could trust to talk to about all the problems you were facing.

Magneto looked at him coldly, and Charles sighed.

"How old is Shinobi?" Charles asked. "You seemed to be good with him."

"He's six," Magneto answered. "And he's a wonderful young boy... I've known him since he was born, and he's already so skilled with his ability."

Charles frowned a little, not liking the idea that one so young would be evaluated in how they were with their powers. Young mutants needed time to learn how to control themselves, but Magneto spoke as though it was to be expected. "Is Tessa his mother?"

"No." Magneto shook his head.

"Could I meet his mother?"

"She died." Magneto answered, gazing straight ahead, something close to pain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Charles could tell he was pressing too hard, that he risked losing any trust or closeness he had managed to build up. He backtracked quickly.

"Don't..." Magneto shook his head and shrugged. "These things happen." He said it so bluntly. As though death was just something he accepted. Charles turned to the fields. "The mutants here are happy?"

"The King gives us a better life." Magneto answered by rote. "And protects us from those who would harm us. So many of those here have suffered before."

"Cyclops mentioned his parents..." Charles told him, giving him space to talk. There was a pause, and then Magneto nodded.

"The Doctor has taken an interest in Cyclops from a young age. He believes he will father the child that will be the salvation of mutantkind, immensely powerful. But that isn't what we are meant to... I thought you needed to see the farm."

Charles nodded. "Do you find mutants stay here? Have many left?"

"No." Magneto closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them the smile on his lips looked fragile. "This is a good place for our kind. The only home we need. No one here needs to leave."

"What about their families?"

"Their families are here." Magneto spoke more firmly. "You need to write an article saying what the King wants shared. You need to stop questioning so much, or you... you might regret it."

There were probably those who would think that sounded like a threat. If he hadn't seen the tenderness with which Magento embraced Tessa and Shinobi, he might still have seen it as such, but now it felt like a warning.

"He knew about my nephew." Charles whispered.

"Your nephew isn't here." Magneto smiled, and there was honesty there. Charles had feared the bodyguard a few short hours ago. Now, looking at him, he felt something approaching hope. "You don't need to worry about him."

"Thank you." Charles watched as a mutant walked past. Like Charles, he was wearing a suppression bracelet, but he had a physical mutation, his face distorted by a large curved beak. "Why is he cut off from his powers?"

"Some of the fliers here choose to wear suppression bracelets." Magneto answered. Charles knew that was a lie. Flight was the most natural instinct for those who could access it - he had never met any flier who wished to be kept away from that ability. He didn't challenge what had been said. He didn't want to provoke an argument with the other man, not so early on. Not while he was relying on him to get back to the room he shared with Gambit.

He cleared his throat. "Have you worked for the King long?"

Magneto nodded. "He took me in. Taught me to master my power. I have been with him ever since, helping him build... build what our community needs. Somewhere mutants will be free."

Charles again cursed his lack of telepathy, because he felt that there was something missing, something he didn't understand, but he didn't know how to get the answers without it. He hoped Gambit would be more forthcoming with the answers he needed, would help him to understand what on earth Magneto wasn't saying.

"It sounds too good to be true," Charles tried, leaving space for Magneto to say something.

"The King is shaping the world to meet our needs," Magneto answered. "And he intends to do far more. To make sure we are treated with respect, not hatred."

There was something in how Magneto spoke that made Charles feel like he had missed what was actually being said. He thought of Angela's warning, the concerns she had about what came next. Shaw was hungry for power. "Cyclops's baby seems to have come into his powers early."

"The Doctor helped." Magneto answered, and Charles quirked an eyebrow. Experimentation on babies was dangerous. But he didn't dare ask more.

"I've seen enough. Can I look at how the children are educated? I am sure that would be a key concern for some who wish to join us."

Magneto nodded, lifting him a little higher and then leading him to another building, where the children were seated on benches, watching the teacher write on the board. Almost all of the children had physical mutations, and a mix of ages sat shoulder to shoulder, all dressed in flawless white, writing in their books. From the wall, an image of Shaw gazed down.

"You can see the school is clean and well supplied." Magneto told him. "So we are comfortable for families."

Charles looked along the row until he spotted Shinobi, writing quickly in his book. The boy glanced up, seeing Magneto and smiling. Magneto smiled back.

Charles didn't acknowledge that, until the teacher strode forwards, slapping their hand down on Shinobi's book and leaning in to whisper to him. The boy bowed his head and carried on writing.

"Is he okay?"

"He's easily distracted," Magneto said softly. "But he works hard at school. He knows he needs to get the best grades..." Charles thought of his own childhood. The pressure to get things right. He stayed quiet. He didn't want to get any of the children into trouble. He nodded.

"He's still clearly a bright boy." Charles reassured, and was rewarded by a broad smile from Magneto. Charles felt a warm flutter in his chest. Prior to the accident, Magento's appearance would have been desirable, and he was surprised to discover that he was still finding him attractive. He pushed those thoughts away. It wasn't appropriate. Just because Magneto wasn't the villain he'd originally pictured, it didn't mean he could trust him. "Thank you. I think I've seen enough."

They returned to Shaw's office, and Charles lost himself in trying to write the report, painfully aware that his sister wasn't coming for him, that he was alone, and that this place was dangerous. After dinner, he found himself exhausted. He was hungry and tired, and he wanted to call his sister and tell her he needed to be rescued. There was a knock on the door, and he turned to see Gambit leaning against the wall.

"Charlie?" Gambit asked, walking over towards him. "Is dere anyt'ing dat Gambit can do for you? You look unhappy, mon frere..." He reached out, rubbing his fingers over Charles's shoulders. Charles squirmed away.

"Leave me alone."

"As you wish." Gambit snorted, returning to his own room. Charles changed into his pyjamas and then climbed into bed, closing his eyes.

He drifted off, uncomfortable and sore but needing the rest.

He was woken by the sound of an alarm. He struggled to sitting, pulling his chair over and transferring across, before getting to the window.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he saw a figure, outlined against one of the nearby buildings. They made a dash towards the gates. He bit his lip, searching for Magneto to stop them. They were close to freedom.

A second figure barrelled out from the darkness, holding what appeared to be knives that glinted in the moonlight. He paused, sniffing the air, and then turned towards the gate. Charles could see another two figures, further back. One was the Doctor, and the other was Cyclops. Cyclops was racing towards the figure, but the Doctor called out and he fell still.

The man holding knives was moving closer, and the escapee was scrambling up the fence. The man with the knives didn't let him go. He leapt onto the figure by the gate, and they gave out a cry. It wasn't the first time Charles had heard that noise, the desperate gasp of someone who had just been injured too badly to survive. He remembered hearing it when he'd been working in warzones, when the man who was showing him around was taken out by a sniper. This was worse. He fumbled his way towards the door.

Maybe he could help. Either way, he had to get out. He had to help them, had to make sure that they didn't die on their own, that they were aware their death would be investigated.

He got to the corridor outside when Gambit stepped from the shadows.

"Go back t’ y’ room Charlie."

"Someone was hurt-" Charles protested.

Was nothin', mon frere, only a drill. Don' worry...dem' who ask too many questions, dey' don't...it best not t' ask. Go t' bed. Dea' nothin' y' can do t'night, Charlie."

"But I saw-"

"Charlie, go to bed." Gambit glanced towards the corner again, where maybe there was a camera or microphone, or maybe they just were playing with Charles, making him think there were when he couldn't check. "Please. Mon ami. Fo’ Gambit." He tensed a little, tilting his head, and then concentrated, his eyes taking on a strange glow. "Go back t’ your room, mon frere."

Charles did as he was told, climbing back into bed, a chill settling in his mind. Charles heard the door to their rooms open, and Gambit stepped forwards.

"It okay. Gambit tell ‘em dat was only a drill, and he believe Gambit totally. He no danger." There was a soft laugh, and the door closed behind them.

Charles sat in his wheelchair, trapped in his room.

Someone had died. Someone had been killed and he had seen it, and he didn't know how he could get to help.

Someone had died.

Charles had encountered death in his work before. But not like this. He felt very afraid, and very, very alone. He didn't sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Gambit returned to his room after a couple of hours had passed. Charles lay still, his eyes closed, afraid that the other man would enter his room. He felt helpless. He couldn't even hide - moving would make too much noise. His best chance was to lay on the bed and feign sleep.

He heard his bedroom door open, and he longed for his telepathy. After a few moments, it closed again. He held still, wondering if Gambit was in there. If anyone else was. If Shaw was above him, ready to kill him. Or that man with the knives. Or Magneto, watching in silence.

He fought to keep his breath steady, his chest rising and falling, as the moments stretched on. He tried to listen. He could hear the distant sound of footsteps - heard a floorboard creak, couldn't place if it was near him or further away. He kept trying to hold still, to relax, to look like he was deep in sleep.

He tried to roll slightly, shifting in his sleep, his unresponsive legs hindering him. He managed to move so his face would be in shadow, cracking his eyelids open, peering between the lashes.

The room was empty.

He kept lying still, hearing his own heartbeat echoing, unnaturally loud without the presence of other minds to drown it out.

He wasn't sure if he was going to die. Someone had, earlier that night, because they'd tried to leave. And he wanted to leave. He couldn't face an eternity trapped here - but he didn't want to die. He really didn't want to die.

He wanted to meet his nephew.

He smiled a little, despite everything. Before he'd heard of this place, he had thought that his life had no purpose. Realising that he wanted to live, that he wanted to hang on to his life as fiercely as he could - that showed things had changed. He'd made progress. He'd found reasons to carry on.

The loudspeaker crackled to life as the sun began to lighten the sky

"All of us know that what we have built here is a paradise for our kind. A home, a sanctuary." Shaw's voice began to drone on. "But there are those who would seek to destroy it. Humans who think that we do not deserve the happiness we have built, who see our strength and fear us for it. Last night, we interrupted an attempt to destroy this safety, to shatter the home we have created. Every one of us here is above humans. Every one of us is more than them. For lifetimes, you have cowered in fear from them, but now I offer you hope. I offer every one of you the chance to ascend to our rightful place, above those who would destroy us, imprison us, torture us. We are building our future together, and it is a future for mutants, built on our powers. We will not forget that. We will not allow betrayal. We will be victorious."

Charles shuddered, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He was exhausted. And the thought of another day typing out Shaw's ideals sickened him. He had the story. He'd seen enough that if he could convince others of what was going on here, it would get closed down. Only he lacked proof. Lacked evidence. Until he could gather that, he was going to be limited. Worse, he had no way of leaving.

Perhaps it would be different if he could discover Erik, could find support. Without anyone on his side, he was outmatched. The simple frustrating truth was, he couldn't do what he had been able to in the past. His injury meant he couldn't search for bugs, much less climb out through a gap in the fence. And he'd seen last night what happened to those that tried to get out.

He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to face the reality of the world after what he had seen.

There was a knock on his door, Gambit's voice ringing out. "Charlie boy, dere' some breakfast fo' you."

He didn't bother saying thanks, or telling Gambit to go away. He was tired, and worse than being tired he was afraid. Shaw frightened him.

He stayed in bed. Another knock came, a male voice. "It's Magneto," Magneto called out. "You're late."

"I don't feel well."

"We have healers." Magneto answered. "And you need to come in. I'm coming to get you."

This time, his door opened and he heard footsteps heading straight towards him. He hid a yawn, and Magneto looked down at him with something close to sympathy shining in his eyes.

"You don't look well. But the King wants to see you."

"I'm tired."

"Charles..." Magneto reached out, squeezing Charles's shoulder. "You want to come to work today."

Charles almost jerked away, remembering at the last moment it was a poor idea given his limited strength and the skill Magneto had with his ability. Instead, he looked up at him. "Tell me. Have you ever heard of a mutant called Erik here."

There was an undeniable flicker of recognition in Magneto's eyes, but a moment later it had faded, replaced by the man's cold expression.

"No. I haven't. And you can't ask that, Charles. That's the kind of question that gets people hurt." Magneto turned away slightly as Charles struggled into sitting up in bed. "Give me your word that you won't ever ask that again."

"Why?"

"Because I can get you your answers. But you are late to work. Hurry now." With that, Magneto walked away, leaving Charles to fumble into his grey clothes. He made his way into his wheelchair, and down the ramp, only to spot Cyclops walking around, a look of concern on his face.

"Cyclops?"

"Charles..." Cyclops walked over, a nervous smile on his face. His whole body language was tense, closed off and stiff.

Charles put his most patient smile on, the one that never failed to shake loose the information he needed, and looked up at Cyclops. "Is everything alright?"

Cyclops nodded stiffly.

"How is Nathaniel?"

"Nate-Nathaniel-" Cyclops caught himself. "Seems to be in some distress, he's in pain and I've had an awful headache all morning..." Even though his eyes were hidden, Charles got the feeling that Cyclops looked close to tears.

"He's possibly teething?" Charles suggested, wanting to soothe him - he knew that being a new parent could be stressful.

"Perhaps," Cyclops agreed.

"Where is he?" Charles asked. "I don't have my powers right now, but I've always had a knack with babies. If you want I can take a look."

Cyclops shook his head, seeming to scrunch down into his own shoulders, curling up a little where he stood. "I think you're late for work."

"Perhaps," Charles nodded, reaching out and gently shaking Cyclops' hand, feeling the way his fingers were trembling. The poor youth looked on the edge of falling apart, and even without his ability Charles could feel the waves of concern coming from him. He turned his chair in the direction of Shaw's office. "I can look Nathaniel over later if you'd like, and we can talk about whatever is concerning you."

Cyclops paused, then nodded, an abrupt movement as though he could barely believe what he was doing. A moment later, he was smiling. Not a real smile, the kind that retail workers wore two days before Black Friday. The smile of someone who knew that they were expected to smile. "Let's get you to the office." He escorted Charles the few steps to Shaw's office, walking quickly. Charles looked up as he reached the building, to see that the King and Doctor were deep in conversation inside. Magneto lifted him up with a flick of his fingers after Charles nodded, and he found himself manoeuvred inside and over to the desk.

Tessa smiled at him shyly, although she looked tired. There was a tension in the room that was unmistakable, even deprived of telepathy, and Charles wanted to scream. Instead, he sat at his keyboard and began to type. Tessa fetched him a cup of tea, and Charles made sure to thank her.

This place was awful. That didn't mean he needed to make it worse, not for people who had no control over what was going on.

He tried to craft lies about the paradise that was there, painfully sure that his life was in danger - and possibly the life of his family. Charles wouldn't have come if he'd known that doing so put Raven and Irene in danger. He hadn't realised. He'd heard Angela's warnings and assumed she was exaggerating, or overwhelmed by fear, that he would have been capable of taking whatever was thrown at him. He was out of his depth.

But he had to get through. It wasn't just his family that was counting on him - it was the people here as well, and if Angela had been right, all of humankind.

"Charles," Shaw asked, cutting through his thoughts. "I have a question for you. Which ability do you think is of most use?"

"Personally, telepathy." Charles answered. "Actually, I've been finding it hard without mine, can I-" he held up his wrist, and Shaw shook his head.

"Soon. but not yet. We don't want you to be of any danger to us, or to yourself. You will have your powers back. Just not yet."

“Teleportation then?”

“The only teleporter we have is… deformed enough that he cannot pass unnoticed. I personally can see the use of a metamorph - someone who could go anywhere, be anyone. The perfect spy.” Shaw smiled at him as he spoke. “I believe your sister has such a power set?”

“She does, but she’d be impossible to use. You’d lose track of her.”

“It’s a good thing then that her powers aren’t the only ones that are useful. We are fighting a war Charles, against an enemy that outnumbers us, that would see us destroyed. And at the moment, we are fighting from a position of disadvantage. If we play our hand too soon, we risk losing everything. They will take our children away from us, the same as they have done to so many groups they despise. But Charles… Imagine if we had the ability to know what their plans were before they did.”

“That sounds like telepathy.”

“Telepathy limits us. It’s powerful, but uncontrollable. Leaders don’t need rebels, they need oracles.” He smiled, and Charles felt nausea rise up in his throat. “Those who can see what the future will bring, who can predict our enemy, who can control them. Who can empower us, help us rise to our rightful place. Now, Charles, you wouldn’t happen to know where an oracle is, would you?”

Charles knew that Shaw knew his answer. And he could see the logic of his words. Shaw knew Irene’s gift, and this was a test, to see if he could give her up. Charles knew that playing along was the one thing that might get him his telepathy back, that might free him from being trapped. He looked up and shrugged. “My sister-in-law.” The words tasted of betrayal on his tongue, and he could see the pain in Tessa’s eyes, the way she gripped Magneto’s hand.

Shaw chuckled to himself, reaching out and ruffling Charles’s hair. “Good boy, Charles.”

Charles wanted to glare at him, but made himself sit in silence. The man smirked. “Carry on with your writing, and I’ll let you see her.”

“She won’t agree to come,” Charles said quickly. “Her pregnancy is considered high risk, she needs doctors-”

“We have doctors.” Shaw answered calmly. “Carry on with your work Charles. Magneto, make sure he stays at his desk.”

Magneto nodded, moving closer.

Shaw rolled his eyes. “Idiot. Make. Sure.”

Metal grew out from the desk, circling over the chair, twining itself around the wheel spokes. Charles tried to push away, trapped, panicked. Shaw smiled at him. “Don’t worry Charles. Just a little precaution.”

“I… I need a bathroom break.” Charles said frantically, trying to think of any excuse. “The stuff is in my room, I can’t…”

“Fine. Magneto, take him back to his room, he’s not fit for work today. Tessa, get Cyclops to guard him until this evening and then we can arrange a change of guard.”

“I can do it, my King.” Magneto offered, his gaze fixed on Charles. Charles longed for his telepathy. He couldn’t work out if the look in the other man’s eyes was pity, or something else.

“I need your assistance now. But this evening, you can take the shift.” With that, Shaw nodded, and Charles found his chair lifted from the ground, floating along at Magneto’s side before being deposited in his room. He heard the door click shut.

He knew that a camera might be watching. So he made his way to the bathroom, fitted the catheter with trembling hands, trying not to think about whether or not even this was being observed. He wanted to go home. He was terrified that his family was being hurt. For the first time in his career, he wished he wasn't a journalist. That he hadn't felt compelled to take this job, that he had just done something safe.

He knew these mutants needed help, but he couldn't be certain any more that he was strong enough to give it.

He finished, packing away his supplies and washing his hands carefully, making sure he was fully dressed before he wheeled back into his bedroom, heading to his desk. He wasn't sure what he hoped to achieve, but he started to scribble down all the information he could, painfully aware of the fact that his record meant nothing if he couldn't get it out. Maybe he could get it to a flyer, bribe them with money if they would just get the note out.

He felt helpless.

He sat at the desk, staring at the page of notes. His hand had trembled so badly they were almost unreadable, and he was nearly crying.

A knock on the door made him startle.

"Mister Xavier?" Came a voice he recognised as Cyclops's. "I've been sent to guard you. Can I come in please?"

The incongruity of it almost made him laugh, but Charles knew he was being watched either way. He tucked his notebook under his unfeeling thigh, and moved over to the door. "You can come in Cyclops."

"Thank you." The door opened, and Cyclops walked inside. He was carrying a plate of actual food, and Charles could feel his mouth watering. Cyclops walked over and awkwardly handed him the plate. "Magneto wanted you to have this."

"Thank you." Charles answered automatically, his mind on the threat to his sister and her wife.

Cyclops smiled. "This used to be my room, you know? Nate- Nathaniel was... we made him here." The boy blushed a little. "You said you'd help me with him?"

"I'd love to help you and your son," Charles reassured, trying not to overthink the rest of Cyclops's confession. "Cyclops, do you know if Shaw means to... he said about bringing my sister in law here. She's pregnant, do you-"

"She'll be safe here." Cyclops answered calmly. "I've seen the mother and baby rooms. They're very safe, there's no glass and the furniture's all secure and fixed in place, there are no sharp edges." His forehead wrinkled a little, clearly trying to remember the details. "And the staff check on them regularly, at least once every fifteen minutes. And there's good food there, she'll be very safe."

Charles nodded, trying to fake a smile, because if he allowed himself to consider things for more than a second or two he was going to throw up. And he didn't particularly want to throw up on the first decent food he'd seen in days. The worst of it was that Cyclops was so earnest about everything that he had absolutely no doubt that the young man was trying to help.

Charles had to make himself believe there was a way out, and for that he needed his strength. He tried to make himself eat. "You said something was wrong with Nathaniel?"

"He's been giving me a headache," Cyclops answered. "I think he's worried, but he might... he might have been teething... I just..." The young man wrapped his arms around himself. "I miss him."

"You miss him?" Charles asked carefully.

"He's got to be with his mother or with the Doctor right now," Cyclops fidgeted awkwardly. "And she can feed him but... I..." He looked down, and cleared his throat. "I love him so much."

"I know you do," Charles replied, trying to shift into work mode, to treat this like an interview. "You are trying your best for him?"

"Always. And for his mother..." Cyclops smiled shyly. "I... I really like her. She's beautiful, of course, and powerful. But more than that she's... she's perfect. She's so kind, and funny, and..." his voice dropped to little more than a whisper, more an awkward teenager than a guard. "And when I'm with her, I feel happy. So happy. It's like... it's like our little family is... is the only thing in the world." He swallowed. "But the Doctor says she's a bad influence on me."

"Can you tell me about her?"

"Her name is Jean. She tells me she has telepathy and telekinesis, and her hair looks like fire... she's just... she's lovely. But I'm not meant to see her at the moment." Cyclops kept his arms around himself - it could have looked like he was crossing his arms, only Charles thought it more likely he was cuddling himself for comfort. "I see Nathaniel most evenings. The Doctor wants to be keeping an eye on him, he says I overindulge him, but..." the smile that lingered on the youth's face was full of love. "He's my son. He's Jean's child... the Doctor tells me that Nathaniel is perfect. And I agree. I just want to be a good parent."

"I am sure you are doing all you can." Charles answered. "Did you and Jean know each other long?"

"The Doctor introduced us. He wanted... He wanted Nathaniel to be created in a laboratory, so that he could monitor everything, but...it didn't feel good. But Jean said we could spend time together, and eventually the Doctor agreed. And she... she's so good to me." He swallowed, biting his lip, and his next words were even quieter. "I didn't want to hurt her, but... we spent time together, and she agreed..." He looked up at Charles, and even with his eyes covered Charles got the feeling that he resembled a damp puppy. "I really care about her."

"I can tell that," Charles agreed, and his heart ached for the other man, because it was obvious just how hard he was trying to do well, whilst also blindingly clear that the feelings he held might not be requited - that the woman who had given birth to his child might have done so against her will. And Cyclops didn't know that. Charles knew he needed to keep him on side. "And care... care is important for parenting."

"I want to do it right," Cyclops agreed. "The Doctor wants us to have more children but... I look at Nathaniel, and I feel so happy, I can't imagine what it would be like to love another person so much..." He smiled nervously. "Logan... Logan says I'm an overly romantic fool, but..."

"Who is Logan?"

"I'm meant to call him Project X." Cyclops sat on the bed, swinging his legs, and Charles had the momentary bizarre sensation of being at a slumber party. "He's one of Essex's experiments. But he helps Jean, and he..." Cyclops took a deep breath. "I've said he's Nathaniel's godfather, but that's not allowed."

"I see," Charles felt sorry for Cyclops, and how clearly out of his depth he was with all that was going on. "Well, I'm glad you have friends. Have you been with Essex long?"

"He rescued us when I was seven and my brother was four," Cyclops answered. "We've been with him since. He decided that my genetics would be useful..." He just stated it the same way he'd talk about a father being proud of your sporting achievements or the like. "But... you should eat. And I... I might go and wait outside."

Charles recognised the fidgeting of someone who felt that they'd talked too much. He nodded, making himself smile.

"That sounds good. Well, you know where I am if you need anything."

"Likewise." Cyclops scurried from the room, and Charles took a few moments to catch his breath. He couldn't let Irene and Raven come here. He couldn't leave his room. Those two facts echoed around his mind, without his telepathy to drown them out. He jotted down the information he could. It didn't distract him.

His family needed him, and he could do nothing for them. The sun sunk low in the sky, and there was another knock on the door. He barely wanted to lift his head, but he managed, wondering if Cyclops had brought Nathaniel to him. "Hello?"

"It's Magneto." The bodyguard called out. "I believe we need to talk." There was a pause, until reluctantly Charles called out, and the door swung open.

Magneto stood there, dressed in black as always. He walked inside, and clicked his fingers to lock the door, frowning a little and then nodding. "Tessa's looped the camera."

Charles frowned, trying to understand.

Magneto paused. "It's about time you got some answers about Erik."

Chapter Text

Charles stared at Magneto, stood in his small room, dressed in the same black he always wore, and now offering him the answers he desperately needed. "Alright." He was prepared for lies. Logic dictated that Magneto was here under Shaw's wishes - and yet he had a gut instinct that that wasn't the case - that Magneto had come here against the rules and for a purpose.

"Curl up on the bed, back to the window." Magneto instructed. "Feign sleep, she's making it look like you're asleep because that's easier."

Charles moved over to the bed and frowned once he was in position. Lying in his bed hid him, but Magneto could still be spotted. "You can join me if you'd like."

He expected Magneto to sit down beside the bed, sheltered from view. What came as a surprise was Magneto walking over to him and slotting in under the blankets beside him, turning so his back was pressed to Charles's front. He was shivering a little, and Charles made no effort to move away or pull him closer. He wanted to embrace him, but he didn't want to frighten him. Because he was sure at that moment, Magneto was afraid.

Charles had reported before on abuses of power, military units committing acts of violence because no one was stopping them. He had been the one that whistleblowers had trusted with the truth, and he felt the weight of that trust. It was the same here - Magneto had come to him, and everything in his demeanour said that he was terrified about what he was about to do, but he was doing it because it was right.

"Whenever you're ready," Charles said softly, and the room fell silent, the only noise their breaths. Magneto seemed to tense, to clench his jaw before he tilted his head up slightly, squaring his shoulders.

"Where did you get the name Erik? We know he wasn't a friend of yours."

"I was told by someone who thought that what was happening here needed to be reported on." Charles admitted. If Shaw had asked he would have refused to say anything, and even now he wasn't going to expose his sources. But he hoped it would be enough to earn Magneto's trust.

Slowly, Magneto nodded. "Did she... is she okay?"

"She is." Charles confirmed, and another shudder ran through Magneto. Charles suspected this one was sheer relief. There was another pause, but Charles didn't push. This was the most delicate part of the entire process - Magneto had come here because he wanted to talk. He'd opened up the conversation. But it was clear he had a lot of loyalty to Shaw, and at that moment the two instincts were warring inside of him. Magneto shuffled back a little, his slender body against Charles's own, and he took a deep breath.

"Thank you. I didn't think she would actually do it."

"She was very concerned about what was happening here. About Erik. She said he saved her," Charles tried to coax out the information. Magneto took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Remy said you're on our side..."

"Remy?" Charles asked curiously.

"Gambit." Magneto swallowed, and Charles thought of the moment he had seen him curled against Tessa, how he had seemed to relax around her.

"Alright."

"My... my name is Magneto. That's what the King named me, what... who I am, who I will be in this world he speaks of. It is my purpose, my destiny." Magneto's voice sounded very sad, almost lost. "And I believe in what the King teaches us. In security for mutants. A world where children don't have to live in fear because they find that they are different."

Charles nodded, making an encouraging sound to prompt more from him. He could feel the tension in Magneto's shoulders, the way he was putting everything he had into those words.

"I was young when Shaw found me. He said he was like me, that we were the future..."

Charles let the story come as felt natural, able to tell that it couldn't be rushed, that Magneto was using all his strength to tell the story.

"My name is Magneto. That's the only name I am allowed. But before... before I found my gift, my name was Erik Lehnsherr."

Charles thought of the intricate metal netting which had fixed Angela's wing, and considered the finesse with which Magneto could act. It was proof, even if the tension in his body and the way he was curled in on himself hadn't been convincing enough.

"Hello, Erik," Charles spoke gently, feeling the man beside him give a full body shudder, and then pressing back closer, desperately seeking affection. Charles wrapped his arms around him, rubbing Erik's arm. There was a pause, and he let Erik gather his thoughts.

"I don't... I don't know what to say." Erik admitted, sounding afraid. It was clear that Cyclops believed in what Shaw and Essex were doing, but Erik was lost.

"You've been here a long time?"

"Before the Children of the Atom was founded. Shaw... took me in. And I've been with him since."

"But you don't agree with what he's doing?"

"I agree with some. Mutants need somewhere safe. So many of our kind face persecution, and that isn't right. But... but mutants need somewhere safe. And that's... that's not here." Another shudder ran through his body, and Charles's heart ached for the sheer bravery of the man in his arms.

"You don't think they're safe here?" Charles prompted, and Erik shook his head. There was a pause before he spoke.

"What do you think of Cyclops?"

"He seems... to believe in what is going on here." Charles said, picking his words carefully.

"Tessa says he's... well. He's fooling himself, to try and keep himself sane. Essex got him and his brother when they were children, and he knows... he knows that if he steps a foot wrong, it'll be his brother who suffers, or now maybe his son. And he can't... he can't face that. He can't bear the thought that he's trapped at the whim of a man who could very easily lash out at any moment. So he tells himself he's safe, that the Doctor is a good man. That any punishment that happens is because he made a mistake, because that way he can cling on to some kind of control, no matter how weak it is... He repeats to himself the lies that Essex tells him until he believes them, because that's the only thing he can do to keep himself in control, to make sure that he isn't afraid."

"And you're sure they're lies?"

"Cyclops believes that humans killed his parents. I saw what happened. They died in a car accident, and the Doctor was there to collect the children. Their parents both died instantly in the crash, and the children were uninjured, aside from... Cyclops hit his head a little." There was a pause, and Charles could feel the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. He gave Erik's shoulders a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him, and Erik pressed back closer against him.

"You're saying Essex was there at the car crash?"

"He was." Erik nodded, and Charles felt a chill run down his spine. If that was the case, that meant that it had to have been preplanned. He felt something click into place in his mind, the truth of what Erik was telling him. Erik wasn't a huge amount older than Cyclops. If Cyclops had been seven, Erik would only have been in his early teens.

"You were there."

"I was."

"Why?"

Erik shook his head, and then took a deep breath. "There needed to be a car accident. Essex was sure that Cyclops would be perfect for his tests. That's why I was there."

"To cause the accident?"

"To force the car off the road and ensure both parents died. Cyclops hitting his head was a mistake, one I paid for. He was... so young. And he tells himself even now that this is a good home for his brother, and his child... He does care for Nate. I know he does. He tries to keep him safe." Erik paused for a moment. "Whatever happens, we shouldn't get him into trouble."

"I'll do what I can." Charles promised, and he felt the relaxation that ran through Erik's body at that.

"It's dangerous, considering acting against Shaw. He won't hesitate to make an example of anyone he sees as a traitor. People disappear. Shaw isn't careful, not with those he plays with, and not with those he's angry at. That's why I had to get Angel out."

"You did well," Charles promised him.

Erik seemed to melt into his touch at those words, and Charles wondered how often he had been praised, how little reassurance he had received. Charles knew his priority had to be protecting his family, but seeing Magneto like this, seeing who he really was - he couldn't just close his eyes and walk away.

"Tessa helped." Erik smiled. "She's brilliant, she really is."

"Have the two of you been together long?" Charles asked, only for Erik to bite back a laugh.

"Tessa... oh, no, she has no interest in that. We're friends. She helps with things, that's all. She's remarkable. Smart. A lot smarter than me."

"A lot smarter than me as well, from what I can tell." Charles agreed, sighing a little. It was hard - if he'd had his telepathy they could have carried on the conversation in secret, but without it he was having to rely on Tessa's skill to keep them safe. "But you have access to a lot of information, Shaw trusts you."

"Shaw finds me useful." Erik's voice was a little strained. "He doesn't trust me. He just knows I am powerless to act against him." There was so much defeat there. Charles embraced him for a moment, taking a slow breath.

"He's wrong, Erik. You're doing this. You aren't powerless."

A shiver ran through Erik, his breath a little uneven, but he nodded slowly.

"It would be hard for Shaw to get rid of you. And without your telepathy he thinks you can be controlled. That you are just a pawn in his game."

Charles nodded slowly, listening to Erik reassure himself, able to tell he was working out for himself what the next steps would be. Erik seemed to settle after a few moments, his breathing no longer so shaky.

"What do you need to know?" Erik asked.

"I saw someone get killed. People disappear here, but I don't know-"

"Logan, that's Project X, the Doctor's pet animal... he's sent to gather up escapees. Tear them apart. Given a drug that makes him rage." Erik swallowed. "Others... Shaw just isn't always careful. That's why... Angel's bones are delicate, they have to be so that she can fly. I knew she'd end up getting hurt, and I hoped... I don't know. She was kind. She smiled at me, and I didn't..." Erik shook his head, and Charles shushed him softly.

Erik took a few deep breaths. Charles rubbed a soothing hand along Erik's arm. He frowned, repeating the gesture. There was some kind of damage beneath the skin, a malformation in the bone. Charles frowned.

"Erik?" He cleared his throat. "What happened?"

For a moment, Erik was silent, and then he shook his head, his voice painfully broken when he did speak. "Shaw isn't always careful with his toys, Charles. I told you that. And that's what we all are to him."

"Let me help." Charles asked. He wasn't going to stay neutral, or out of trouble, not if Erik needed him. He'd got involved, he wasn't just an observer any more.

"I should go." Erik mumbled, tensing in his arms. "He'll notice I'm missing..." Erik attempted to pull away, and Charles reluctantly released his grip after a moment.

"You're meant to be guarding me." Charles pointed out, aware that Erik was frightened, that he needed to be with someone who cared about him. Erik nodded abruptly, still tense, but abandoned his efforts to move from the bed.

"I'm not alone. Remy is keeping an eye on you, and he's fast. He'll keep you out of trouble. Cyclops will report back to the Doctor anything he can, but he won't harm you."

"Cyclops told me a lot of things earlier."

"He doesn't know he's being watched. He genuinely believes he is free... That he has a good life here. He's not the kind to want to harm anyone, but he believes... he believes in what he's told. And Tessa's working on a plan."

"I don't... I want Irene and Raven safe." Charles insisted. He wasn't just a reporter, he was tangled up in all of the mess and pain that was bound to follow, and he knew the cost of that. But he couldn't let his family suffer.

"We'll try. Shaw hasn't found them yet, but he'll keep looking. He has Tessa analysing the databases. So far he's had no success but I can't say that's permanent..."

"Tessa's on our side."

"Tessa's smart. Smart enough that she's always five steps ahead of the rest of us, and sometimes that means she looks an awful lot like a traitor. She does calculations. I can tell her not to let any harm come to them, but if she decides it's worth it..."

Charles nodded slowly. There was no comfort in those words. "But she's on our side?"

"She is. She hates Shaw. And she hates what he makes her do... what he wants. He speaks of killing everyone who isn't a mutant."

Charles squeezed him gently, and Erik took a deep breath. "Non-mutants aren't allowed on the compound."

Charles considered, and nodded. He hadn't seen any humans since he arrived, had hardly seen anyone. But a policy like that wasn't unusual for mutant superiority-cults. "I'm not surprised."

Erik shook his head. "You don't understand. No non-mutants are allowed on the compound."

Charles swallowed, thinking of the children dressed in white, little Shinobi staring out from a wall. He was young to have manifested powers. A lot of them were. Physical mutations were sometimes present from birth, but most others took some time to kick in. "I see. And what happens?"

"Tessa jump-starts those she can. He lets them wait until they can walk before forcing the matter, Cyclops's Nathaniel truly is a marvel. But any infant with latent abilities, she's able to unlock them. Those who don't... they go to the Doctor, for research. He analyses the parents, decides if he wants to try again..." Erik shivered. "I remember before... I remember my mother telling me stories, of men like the Doctor. My family came to America to get away, and I... I ended up straight back with one of those monsters."

"You're fighting back." Charles reassured him. "You're fighting."

"I don't know if it will be enough." Erik whispered. Charles knew that he'd crossed a line. This wasn't just journalism any longer. He was fighting for the lives of his family, of himself, and of Erik and Tessa and Cyclops. He reached across, taking one of Erik's hands in his own.

"It will be."

Charles had always been one to focus on the facts. But he got the feeling that wasn't what was needed there.

"Magneto, de' King be looking for yous." Gambit's voice cut through the emotion that lay heavy between them, and Erik wrenched himself away from Charles's embrace.

"Tessa says that if the situation seems hopeless, you're probably not looking at all the data." Erik murmured, and as he said it he straightened up, holding himself more firmly, like a fighter. Charles could see him constructing his shields over the fragile individual that remained, who had been there all along. "I'll see you soon, Charles."

"Goodbye, Erik." Charles answered, and Erik strode out, looking for all the world like Magneto, Shaw's ever-loyal bodyguard. Devoid of his telepathy, Charles could easily have been convinced.

Chapter Text

Charles kept replaying that conversation over in his head as he lay awake. He knew he should have tried to sleep, that he desperately needed the chance to rest. But he couldn't face it. Not when his family was out there, when he felt helpless, when they needed him.

He wheeled around the room, trying to clear his head, work out a plan of attack. Being deprived of his telepathy felt like trying to complete the tasks blindfolded. He had never realised before quite how much he relied on it. Without it, things were far more difficult.

Worse still, he found his thoughts drifting back to Erik. To everything Erik had told him. He believed it, and that meant that they were in serious danger, and so was everyone else.

Being trapped in his room, deprived of his telepathy, Charles felt sick.

At breakfast there was a knock on the door, and Cyclops appeared, smiling. "I brought you some food."

"Thank you, Cyclops." Charles answered, taking the portion of watery porridge that Cyclops held out. It was hardly appetising, but he needed the food. "Are you guarding me today?"

"I'm guarding you this morning, and then Magneto is here later." Cyclops said with a smile.

"Did you see Nate last night?"

"I did. His mother seemed... she's sad." Cyclops frowned a little, and Charles tried to understand - the boy was trying to make sense of something that was completely lost on him. Cyclops knew something was wrong, but he didn't have the capacity to acknowledge it, and so remained trapped in the strange limbo he found himself in.

"You said she's a telepath?"

"She tells me she's got telepathy and telekinesis, just like our boy." Cyclops answered, a proud smile on his face. Charles felt a sudden wave of sickness roll through him.

"You've not seen it?"

"She isn't allowed her powers at the moment." Cyclops explained. "She kept trying to escape. But it's alright, she'll get them back soon."

"I see..."

Cyclops frowned, pain showing in his expression, before he calmed down a little, taking a slow deep breath. "I want to keep her out of trouble."

"I know you do," Charles reassured. "And you do a good job of it, I'm certain of that."

"Thank you. I just wish the Doctor..." Cyclops began, then shook his head. "She's amazing."

"She sounds it. I'd like to meet her one day."

"I'll check with the King. Hopefully, as soon as you're out of being in trouble..." Cyclops considered, and Charles nodded. He could see the truth of what Erik had told him. Cyclops really did care about his partner, but they were trapped in a terrible situation.

"That would be good. Do you know why I am in trouble?"

"You didn't obey," Cyclops answered, surprisingly calm. There was no hint in his expression of reluctance or guilt. "But it's okay. You can do better next time."

"Yes." Charles agreed, simply to fill the awful silence.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Cyclops asked, and after a moment Charles nodded.

"Some water?"

Cyclops nodded, hurrying off, and Charles took the few peaceful seconds he had been provided with to try and calm himself down. He wasn't defeated. Raven and Irene were smart. Raven could pass unnoticed anywhere, and Irene knew what was going to happen. That meant they'd be alright. He'd always been protective of Raven, but right now he needed to prioritise himself.

Eventually, Cyclops returned with water, and he drank. He attempted small talk, and quickly learned just how cut off Cyclops was from the outside world. He couldn't answer questions about his favourite sports team or restaurant, and had never read any books other than those that 'the Doctor' selected for him. The only non-mutant text he had read was the Art of War, but he spoke eagerly about Sun Tzu's grasp of strategy. Charles's heart ached for the young man, who was clearly very intelligent, and very cut off from the world.

He wanted to encourage Cyclops to ask questions. To learn the truth. But at the same time he was aware that doing that might be signing the boy's death warrant, guaranteeing he would end up in trouble. It wasn't worth dooming him. Not if the others had already got a plan in motion.

Eventually, lunch arrived. Cyclops excused himself with a final wave, and Magneto stepped into the room, carrying a tray of food. The first thing Charles noticed was how good the food there was. Better than he'd seen since his first meal. He only just held himself back from licking his lips. He felt ravenous.

Magneto placed the food down on the cabinet beside the bed, making sure it was within his reach, and Erik stepped back with a smile.

"Good food?" Charles asked, his eyes darting towards the camera. Erik nodded, and walked over to by the wall. After a few moments, a red light appeared on the ceiling, and Erik relaxed.

"Tessa's looping the film for us for a little while. We have time to talk."

"Thank you." Charles nodded, his gaze drawn to the plate of food there, as he slowly registered how ravenously hungry he was. Erik gave him a nod.

"Eat. I wanted you to have it."

"Oh?"

"My lunch." Erik answered, shrugging a little. "I know Shaw hasn't been feeding you enough."

"He hasn't been feeding any of us enough... he wants us hungry." Charles answered, tearing into the food with a desperation he hadn't felt since childhood.

"He wants you unable to think. That's what Tessa says. Reduced nutritional input... it affects how you think. And I want you to be able to concentrate." Even as Erik said that, Charles caught a better look at how terrible Erik looked. His hair was neatly brushed, but he needed a shave, and his eyes had large bags underneath them. He was pale, and he was exhausted.

"Sleep deprivation does the same thing," Charles supplied. Erik shrugged a little.

"I never sleep well when I'm guarding him."

"You can sleep in my bed if you want."

"But-"

Charles looked at him. Erik looked close to collapse, if you took a moment to glimpse beneath the perfect exterior he projected. The fact he was letting Charles see how much he needed a rest just showed how tired he was. "Sleep, Erik."

"I'm meant to be guarding you." Erik answered petulantly, and Charles felt a wave of fondness to the man he was catching glimpses of.

"I'm in a wheelchair and you control metal. Modify the wheels or something, make sure I can't go anywhere." Charles didn't exactly feel comfortable with being trapped, but he was willing to accept it if it meant Erik would rest. After a moment, Erik nodded, and Charles transferred into the chair, before Erik flattened the bottom of the wheels, lowering him slightly and meaning he was trapped in place. Erik laid down on top of the blanket, stiff and uncertain.

Charles's heart ached for him, but he knew that what Erik needed most of all at that moment was the chance to sleep. They could talk once Erik got some rest.

Erik closed his eyes, his body remaining awkwardly positioned. He was so tense that Charles was sure he wouldn't be getting any rest, and it was that which drove him closer, to reach out and brush his fingers through Erik's hair, the way he had seen Tessa do before. There was a pause of a few moments, before relaxation shivered through Erik's body, and he calmed down.

Charles shushed him quietly, trying to allow him to rest, while staying close enough that he could be there if needed. It didn't take long for Erik's body to go a little limper, his breathing evening out.

Charles's fingers ached to reach out and smooth through Erik's hair, to in some small way ease the tension that seemed to be ever-present in the other man's frame. But he was worried that by doing that he might overstep, might cross some unspoken boundary in the relationship they were building. It felt invasive. But Erik frowned a little in his sleep, and Charles longed to have his telepathy back, to soothe away some of that pain.

He tried to distract himself. He glanced at the white-robed children outside. Many of them were young, and had visible mutations. He wondered if some had been abandoned, how many were the results of the Doctor's experiments.

He found his mind drifting back to first year undergraduate, when he had been caught up in studying biology, before he realised his gift meant he had a calling for truth. He remembered Punnett squares, and his own thoughts about how they might apply to mutant abilities. For the strongest physical mutations, those that were dominant - mutations like his sister's unusual skin, or Angela's wings, with two mutant parents... you could safely expect only one in every four children to be born human. For other mutations, those that were harder to pass on to the next generation - it could be easily one in four that was a mutant. Or even fewer.

He watched the children dressed in white, and thought of siblings they had which had disappeared. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but he made himself face up to the reality of where he'd found himself. He wouldn't survive if he ignored such a simple fact.

He was in hell, and he didn't know how he could get out.

On the bed, Erik whimpered, and Charles reached out, tucking the blanket around him. He longed to soothe him, but didn't dare. And he knew that Erik was desperately in need of sleep. The sheer fact he was attempting to sleep here was proof of that.

He saw a dark-haired child peel away from the main group, slipping towards the building. He was contemplating whether to wake Erik when Shinobi's head peered through the wall, face drawn with a serious expression that didn't belong on a boy of his age.

"Is Magneto alright?" Shinobi asked, and Charles bit back a laugh. It wouldn't be fair to Shinobi to show emotion there, even if he was fairly certain that Erik hadn't been alright for years.

"He's fine. He's just tired."

"He helped me." Shinobi said softly. "I can't... I can't understand what we should learn. And Papa says... I have to get the best results."

"Magneto taught you?" Charles asked softly, trying to encourage the boy, and push back his own memories of paternal expectation, the knowledge you would never be good enough. He breathed through the pain.

Shinobi looked at him blankly, then shook his head. "Tessa teaches me. Magneto made sure Papa wasn't too angry with me."

"That's good," Charles answered, careful not to let any emotion show through, not to allow his concern to spike.

"I... should get back." Shinobi said softly, backing back out before Charles could reply. Charles tried not to worry, for all that he saw his younger self in Shinobi. Worrying about the boy would benefit no-one, and anyway Erik was already doing that.

Looking out at the children concerned him, but there was little in his own room he could think of to do. He wished he had some way of contacting his sister.

He was a journalist. He was witnessing something here, and even if it wasn't the story he had hoped, even if he had become helplessly entangled within it - he could still write it. So that was what he did. He took out his notebook, and started to sketch out what he had seen.

He wanted to get out of the compound. He knew Tessa and Erik were his best chance, but they were having to work alone - there was no support he could offer them all the time he was trapped within his room. That meant he had to get out of the building, get back to work, and see what he could do to be useful.

It would mean working with Shaw. But he could do that.

As Erik slept on, Charles made up his mind about what he could do next, the steps he could do to try and make sure that everything worked out, that they were safe. Getting back to Shaw's good side wouldn't be easy. But the man was a narcissist. That would help.

Plan in mind, Charles felt a spark of hope. He was frightened, aware there was a vast amount that could go wrong. But he had to believe in himself. He could be Sebastian Shaw's secretary, and it would offer him a prime position from which he could witness whatever was coming next, and take it down.

That thought drove him on as he worked on his records, careful to phrase them all positively, as though he approved of everything that was happening. He even drafted a letter to his sister, advising her and her wife and their unborn son to come and visit. He had to trust that if it were to be sent, a combination of Irene's gift and the fact he had said the baby was a boy when it wasn’t known would suffice to stop them coming. Any more obvious warning risked being intercepted, and that was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

Erik woke after a few hours, and he looked a little refreshed. He waved his hand, restoring Charles's chair to full functionality, and Charles felt a slight brush of relief despite himself.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked Erik.

Erik nodded, stretching, running through a series of exercises seemingly on instinct. Charles looked away, not sure what to make of how the other man was acting. Erik definitely seemed refreshed, but there was still something about the entire situation that struck him as out of place.

He thought about telling Erik his plan. But he didn't want to worry Erik, not when it was clear the other man already had so many things to worry about. Adding to it now felt cruel.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked, finishing his exercises and sitting down smartly on the edge of Charles's desk. "You look... disturbed."

"I'm fine, Erik. I'm just... thinking." Charles answered. "You said you were worried about what Shaw might have planned. Do you know when he intends to act?"

Erik shook his head. "He doesn't tell me that kind of thing, Charles. That's not what I am for." Erik said it so softly, so matter of factly, that Charles felt his heart twist. It was the way someone would state a truth, a belief they held at their very core.

Charles was aware of how much could go wrong. That if he made a misstep here, he could end up dead or as one of the doctor's experiments. And if that happened, no one was going to come and save the others. He wondered if Tessa really did have a plan, or if she was simply saying she did in an attempt to keep Erik safe.

It was best not to get Erik involved in what he was planning, Charles thought. He instead tried to distract him, to engage him in conversation and offer some small sanctuary from the life he had outside of this room. Every detail he gained about Erik's life concerned him more, but he tried to hide that worry, to act unbothered. Unlike Cyclops, Erik knew what he was saying was wrong, but he had no answer to give but the truth. Charles had interviewed a lot of people in his time, but none of them had the same helpless inner fire that shone from Erik's eyes. Charles felt almost like he could drown in it.

It was a relief when Cyclops came to relieve Erik, and Charles was faced with putting the next stage of his plan into action.

He smiled at Cyclops, careful to keep his body language open. Cyclops grinned back, expression painfully bright.

"Are you okay, Charles?"

"I'm fine, thank you Cyclops. Are you? Did you see Nathaniel today?"

"I will be able to later." Cyclops answered. "And I might get to see Jean. The Doctor... the Doctor is talking about creating another child, but it's not... Jean says it's too early." He frowned, and Charles could see the pain there. "And Logan agrees. Nathaniel's not old enough for a little brother or sister yet... but... I've asked the Doctor if Jean and I could... could spend some time together. So that when it is a good time to try again, she's not scared." He closed his eyes. "She was scared at first, until she realised that I didn't want to harm her. And sometimes she... she wraps her arms around me, and she kisses me, and it..." He blushed softly. "It is just us in the world. Have you ever felt like that, Charles?"

"When I was younger." Charles answered truthfully, remembering heady infatuations at his boarding school. "And you feel Nathaniel is safe here?"

"The Doctor says there's nowhere safer in the world for him, or for Jean..." Cyclops bit his lip. "I heard Magneto and Tessa talking. They said that the humans broke your spine?"

"Yes." Charles realised this was as good an opening as any for the conversation he needed to have. "I know you have heard about my nephew. I worry about him. If he's going to be born looking different..."

"He'd be happy here!" Cyclops said quickly. "There are lots of children here with physical mutations. Nathaniel's eyes glow when he uses his gift, and there are all kinds of different mutations. And the Doctor will help find out how he can grow healthily." Cyclops nodded to himself. "There's nowhere else in the world that a mutant baby would be this safe."

Charles felt a twinge of guilt at the knowledge he was going to be taking advantage of Cyclops's naivety. He told himself it was necessary. If Nathaniel was going to have a good life, they needed to get out of here. "Do you think you could talk to the Doctor and the King for me?Tell them I... tell them I've changed my mind. That... that I can see the purpose of a mutant society. I don't want my nephew to grow up ashamed of what he is. I've written a letter and everything, telling them to come here."

Cyclops nodded quickly. "That's good. And you'll be good, won't you? You'll do what you're told to?"

"I will." Charles answered, and Cyclops seemed to relax.

"That's good. Then they won't have any reason to hurt him. He'll be very safe here." Cyclops paused, looking at Charles. "You won't try to escape if I go and talk to them, will you? I don't... I wouldn't want to get Nathaniel in trouble."

"I promise you, I won't get you or Nathaniel in trouble if I can help it." That was the truth. It was just that his views of when it might be necessary were different from Cyclops's. But Cyclops nodded along trustingly, slipping away.

All that was left was to wait. He focused on mental exercises he had done as a child, imagining brick walls around all of his secrets, creating a castle to keep out potential attackers. He might have been without his telepathy, but he had to assume he was still able to resist mind-reading. If he wasn't, then there was no hope for any of them.

No one came that night. There was no replacement guard, and no sign of relief. Even Gambit didn't come knocking, although Charles heard him shower in his own room before leaving again. Reluctantly, he went to bed, hoping in the morning he would get the answer he needed. Having no answer felt like failure, his mind conjuring ideas of all that could go wrong.

He had to have faith in himself, and in Tessa and Erik. Even if his plan failed, it didn't mean theirs would.

He woke up at the sound of the door to his bedroom opening. Shaw marched in, walking over to him immediately and staring down at him.

"You know, when you sleep, you look almost perfect..." Shaw reached out, pulling back the covers, examining Charles's legs. He lifted one of them, holding his foot at the ankle, and Charles tried to remain calm, aware of the strength the other man possessed. Shaw squeezed, and Charles saw his ankle turn pale, braced himself - it wouldn't hurt if it was broken, but it would still be a medical emergency. Then Shaw let his foot fall lifelessly back onto the mattress. "It's truly a tragedy, what the humans did to you."

"A tragedy implies it was unavoidable." Charles answered, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows. "What happened to me was intentional. And I've spoken to Cyclops, and to Shinobi. This place... it isn't perfect. But if my nephew is going to clearly be a mutant... if my nephew is going to live every day being judged for how he was born, then I want him to be safe."

Charles braced himself for questioning. He could see Erik in the doorway, a clear look of confusion on his face. Shaw looked him over. Whatever he was looking for, he found it.

"I want you back at your desk in twenty minutes."

"Thank you." Charles managed to smile, even if the expression tasted wrong. Erik gave him one confused glance, then followed Shaw from the room, leaving Charles to struggle through his routine.

When he got back to his desk, Tessa was waiting by Shaw's side. She smiled at him coldly, as Shaw rested one hand at her hip, his thumb brushing over the skin there. It was Tessa who spoke, her gaze directed at the floor. "The internet access on your computer is restricted now, and will return to me any suspicious activity."

"Thank you." Charles turned to Shaw. "Cyclops helped me to see the error of my ways. He speaks very highly of his partner. Would I be permitted to meet her?"

"Not right now." Shaw shook his head. "I believe she's helping Essex with some testing, and she's busy with little Nathaniel. For today, I simply want you to transcribe some of my speeches. Tessa has prepared the audio files, haven't you dearest?"

Tessa nodded silently.

"You've made a good choice today," Shaw told him. "You've chosen the right side. The side of the victors. Because war is coming, and the end result is inevitable."

"I see that now," Charles conceded, and Shaw laughed to himself.

"Not a total fool. I knew you were cleverer than you acted." He shook his head. "There are any number of spoils to the victors, Charles. You're making the right decision. Do look through our files, and tell me if anyone... well, if there's anyone you suspect you might be compatible with."

Charles tried to hide the sickness he felt. "I'll get these speeches transcribed first."

"Such a hardworking man. Tessa, make sure he's given better food as long as he's working for us."

"Yes, my King," Tessa answered, following Shaw over to a comfortable leather armchair. Shaw sat down, using a small laptop, and Tessa stood close at hand, within reach.

Charles tried to just focus on the transcripts. He had to try and convince Shaw he was on his side. Hopefully, he could do that without doing anything he wouldn't be able to live with. Transcribing the speeches at least gave him a fuller idea of the man he was dealing with.

Hours stretched on. Shaw and Tessa left, and Charles was alone with the computer. He didn't dare check for any way of emailing out, not yet. Instead, he read through the transcripts, corrected them, and skimmed files that were easily available about the mutants.

Much like Cyclops's file, there was a link on Gambit's page that was redacted information. A single word, 'Rogue'. Charles wondered if that was the name, or an explanation of where they had gone. He decided that he would ask Gambit that the first chance he got, in the hope it would be of use.

Evening came, and Tessa brought him a meal. It was good food. He ate hungrily, before he headed back to his room, pausing outside Gambit's door and knocking.

When Gambit opened the door, in his dressing gown once more, Charles gazed up at him.

"We need to talk about Rogue."

The expression on Gambit's face confirmed he knew who Charles was talking about. A second later, the door slammed shut.

Chapter Text

Charles sat for a moment in front of the closed door, his heart racing. The name Rogue clearly did mean something to Gambit. It meant a lot, if the sheer emotion in the other man's expression was to be believed. But he couldn't push his way in and demand answers.

He made his way to his room.

He was taking steps in the right direction. He tried to hold onto that information, even though it was hard to remember - his mind screaming at him that any mistake he made could cost Irene and Raven everything.

At least when he'd been in active warzones, his family had never been in danger.

He settled by his desk, trying to plan out his next steps. He needed answers, and desperately needed his telepathy, but neither of those was forthcoming. He made himself get into bed, adjusting the blanket, and attempting to check his legs for any sign of bedsores. There were a few red patches that might be cause for concern, but compared to his potential death it was hard to focus on that.

He tried to sleep. He didn't sleep well, but it was easier than it had been the previous night - he felt he was in control of what was happening now, acting rather than just reacting. He was drifting off, imagining holding a baby nephew covered in feathers, or green scales, or yellow diamonds, when he jerked awake.

It took a moment to place the noise that had awoken him. Something - someone - was knocking at his window. He pulled himself to sitting, scooting backwards to try and see. He could see a male figure - looking closer, he could see it was Gambit. He got into his chair, and hurried outside, shivering a little at the cold of the night.

Gambit was leaning against the outside of the house, throwing a pebble up into the air and then catching it again, charging it up so that it glowed with energy.

"Is... is everything alright?" Charles asked, remembering the death he'd seen. Gambit stalked closer, and Charles shrunk back a little in his chair. Gambit stalked off into the darkness, wordless, and after a moment Charles followed, almost hypnotised.

When they were far from the other buildings, Gambit looked at him.
“Mon frere, y' want t' ask about Rogue? Gambit tell you, Charlie, but first, tell Gambit 'dis; have y' heard a' de' Koschei?”

"The...what?"

“De' Immortal. Koschei, from de' fairy stories. De' Koschei can neva' be killed, because a' de' heart, de' soul a de' Koschei...do no' reside in dey' chest. Dey' be elsewhere. Hidden, precious…Rogue...mon coeur et sa coeur, toujours. She be...da' best n' brightest t'ing dat' ever happened t' Gambit. Ma chere.”

Charles nodded, waiting for Gambit to say more. When he didn't, Charles shrugged. "She's a mutant?"

"Oui, mon frere. An' she belong t' de' Doc...he interested in her powers, an' he knows dat' havin' her mean all Doc got t' say is jump, an' Gambit only care how high." Gambit shrugged, throwing the pebble he had been holding high up into the air. It exploded at the very peak of the curve, raining glittering dust down around them. "Havin’ Rogue means de' Doc... he have Gambit too."

"I'm sorry." Charles said honestly. Gambit shrugged a little, gazing out into the darkness around them.

"She's worth everything." Gambit answered after a moment had passed. "Ma chere...de' Doc told 'er he could fix 'er. He say many pretty words so he get what he want. An' den'...he use up anything dat' is of no use t' him no more."

Charles reached out, squeezing Gambit's elbow. "It's going to be alright."

"Pretty words, mon frere." Gambit sighed. "Charlie, you should get some rest. Be thankin' you though. 's good t' talk about her."

"Have you seen her recently?"

"No' for a week or more. Gambit not de' Doc's favourite. His prize experiment sees his girl all de’ time, an' she don't even like him dat’ much. But, Gambit knows his chere is well. Gambit would feel...Gambit would know, you get dat', Charlie? If something happened...if Rogue were hurt. Gambit would know." He closed his strange eyes, taking a deep breath. Charles wished he could tell him everything was fine, that he would see her soon, but Gambit was right - for now it was just pretty words.

"Thank you for telling me. I... I'll go to bed. Are you coming?"

"Gambit should see if de' Doc needs anythin'." Gambit answered. "But mon frere, if y' were t' see her...tell her all de' pretty lies dat' will take away de' hurt. Dats' all you can do."

"I'll try." Charles promised, heading back towards their room. Gambit peeled away, heading over towards Essex's rooms.

He hadn't returned by the time Charles fell asleep.

***

Shaw's words woke him the next morning, streaming through the buildings, and Charles forced himself out of bed. He was playing a risky game now. He had to. Tessa had already set up the computer for him, left a plate of food beside the computer, and he wheeled over to his desk, trying to get the speeches typed up.

He was no longer trapped in his room. That was a start. He hadn't worked out his next steps, but perhaps Tessa could help him there. Getting into a trusted position was a start.

He fought not to tense as he heard Shaw's footsteps behind him, not looking around, keeping his fingers on the keys. He pretended he hadn't noticed. It was easier that way.

Shaw pulled his wheelchair back from the desk, and Charles's fingers tightened on the armrests slightly, as he made himself smile. He tried not to look beyond, at the way that Tessa had her arms around Erik, the two of them stealing a moment together while they could. There was a tenderness and sorrow to it that made Charles's heart ache.

"My King?"

"You're doing well with the transcription, Charles. Did you give any thought to... companionship?"

"No one has caught my eye yet." Charles said, sickened a little, remembering friends of his father's and thoughts he wasn't meant to overhear. "I've been busy working."

"You deserve to relax. I've seen the way you look at my Tessa..."

"I wouldn't want to impose." Charles fumbled through the line, wishing he had his telepathy to guide them.

"It's no imposition. She's a beautiful young woman, loyal. I'm sure she wouldn't object, would you Tessa?"

"No, my King." Tessa answered, her gaze venom and smile soft. "Whatever you wish."

"Marvellous girl." Shaw chuckled to himself. "I'm a generous man, Charles, and this is a good place for those of us who are worth being here." He considered, resting his hand on Charles's shoulder. "Take tomorrow off. Tessa can help you to relax."

"That isn't necessary." Charles muttered, uncomfortable. His skin felt itchy with revulsion.

"Nonsense, boy. She'll be good for you. After your... accident, I'm sure you've hardly had women falling over themselves to offer their services." He snorted, and his grip tightened painfully. "Just get those scripts finished by this evening."

"She isn't..." Charles hesitated, glancing at Erik, and the grip tightened further, making Charles cry out in pain. He thought of Erik's broken bones, the warnings he had had about his own risk of injury.

"Magneto is mine, do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Charles gasped out. Shaw kept his grip for a moment longer, then stepped away, clicking at Magneto to follow him.

Tessa walked up to him when they were alone. "You're out of your depth, and you're putting us all in danger," she hissed into his ear.

Charles nodded, putting his hands on the keys, ignoring the lingering burn in his shoulder and trying to act natural. "I'm sorry."

"I know how to give a good show to the cameras." She answered, her slender fingers rubbing away the lingering pain. "Assuming you don't want-"

"I don't." He promised her. "I never meant-"

"Get on with your typing." She whispered. "And try to look less concerned that I'll strangle you. I won't unless you give me reason to." After a few moments, she left the room as well, and he tried to concentrate on the screen in front of him.

***

Charles went to his room that night feeling sick. It wasn't that he didn't trust Tessa, more that he kept playing Shaw's words over in his head. The way he acted like he was free to give Tessa to whoever he wished, and how in contrast he was so painfully possessive of Erik.

Gambit wasn't in his room, and Charles didn't know where Cyclops slept - after all, he'd taken the young man's previous bedroom. He completed his evening routine, climbing under the blankets.

There was a knock at the door. He cleared his throat. "Come in?"

Tessa opened the door, stepping into the room, and flicking on the light. Unlike her standard black uniform, similar to the clothes the others wore if a darker shade, she was wearing a silky black dressing gown. She shrugged it off, revealing black lingerie.

Charles's mouth felt dry. He didn't want her there, didn't want her to feel she had to do this. Didn't want her to touch him. She walked over to the bed, pressing her finger against his lips. "The audio's on for now, it'll cut out shortly." Her voice was little more than a whisper.

Charles nodded, and she straddled him. He closed his eyes, grateful that he couldn't feel her body against his own. It felt like another line he had drawn being crossed. Her fingers brushed his cheek, guiding him to look up at him. "Try to let yourself relax." She whispered, leaning down so that their mouths were within an inch of each other. "It's alright. I'm going to go and turn out the light soon, then we can talk."

Feeling somewhat nauseous, Charles nodded.

Tessa got up and turned off the light, lying down further down the bed, level with his hips. "Hand on my hair," she murmured. He obeyed, fingers tangling in it slightly, then releasing the strands at the sharp glare she shot him in response. After a few minutes of him laying still in the darkness, she moved up his body, tucking herself against him, her slender body resting with her head on his chest. He could feel she was shivering. He tried to run a soothing hand down her back, and the shivers grew worse.

"Just... keep your hands still," she ordered, pulling the blanket up over their tangled legs. He did as she asked, keeping his hands in place, and feeling her body trembling.

"This isn't the first time?" he whispered.

"Erik and I can give a good show for the cameras, if that's what Shaw wants." Tessa answered. Charles thought of the scars he'd glimpsed on her face. Shaw was violent, but not like that. Someone else then, someone Shaw had handed her over to, had left those marks.

"What can I do?" Charles asked.

"What you're doing with Erik. He... listens to you. He believes in some of what is said, and you can challenge that. You can change his view."

"I want to get out of here."

"You shouldn't have come here in the first place." Her voice was calm, cold. There was anger there, but it was locked away behind careful words. "You're ruining everything."

"I want to help end this."

"How do you see it ending, Charles?" Tessa laughed, her slender body shaking still. "You walk out of here the hero, followed by mutants who are glad to be... who see you as their saviour?" She took a deep breath. "We've had enough of saviours."

"There has to be something I can do. Even if it’s... even if it’s just giving you a chance to rest."

"I don't need your pity." Tessa glared at him. "I know what I am doing. I have a plan. And I don't need you." She sighed softly. "Erik does."

Charles waited for her to continue, his heart racing. It wasn't right for him to demand answers, not when he was realising how much he had complicated everything that was going on.

"He doesn't like seeing other mutants hurt. He saw what happened to Havok when Cyclops..." She shook her head. "What he did didn't matter. Erik believed. Until four years ago, he saw that kid get hurt, and he realised it was wrong. He's a fighter. And we can't... we need a telepath. And Erik needs someone he can trust."

"He's got you."

"He doesn't trust me." Tessa shook her head. "He shouldn't trust me."

Charles found himself once again sitting in silence, not sure what answer he could give her, how he could reassure her. He wanted to ask how she'd ended up there, when her own doubts had started, but he could tell those questions wouldn't be wanted.

"Essex has been asking to borrow Erik for more experiments, so we'll have to move soon." She explained. "He's got a whole level in his labs that block Erik's gift from getting in or out, otherwise we might... be able to destroy it from outside. And Cyclops's son... Erik isn't willing to risk his safety. Essex would kill Nathaniel if he had to. He could always make another. So we need to act carefully."

"My sister in law can tell the future. If she gets here, she'll work with us," Charles offered.

"She's got a baby. You've seen Cyclops. They have no hesitation to take someone you care about away, make sure you play along."

"They took someone of yours?"

"There was no one to take." Tessa answered. "And Erik? They had someone of his. But she was human. And Shaw doesn't like to share. You saw that."

"Tessa, I-" Charles started, even though he didn't know what he wanted to say. That he was sorry. That he would help. That she deserved better. The words hung in the air between them, and she shook her head.

"I'm going to sleep." She informed him, closing her eyes. Her body seemed to relax, moving between awake and asleep within the space of a heartbeat. Charles couldn't join her.

He kept replaying the conversation, wondering how he could get them through this. Tessa's plan relied on him helping Erik. He could do that, at least.

Eventually the sky lightened, and Tessa woke up, putting on another show for the cameras, unbuttoning his shirt with delicate fingers. As she did, she leaned to whisper in his ear. "Talk to Erik. Persuade him we need to end this. There are some spots he knows that are out of view of the cameras. Talk to him."

"I will." Charles agreed, moving his head back, trying to play his part without adding to her discomfort. Eventually, she moved away as the daily speech began, fetching herself a glass of water from the bathroom, leaving Charles laying there uncomfortable and with his nightshirt pushed aside, feeling exposed.

That feeling only grew as the door swung open, Shaw's eyes raking over him. He felt like a pinned butterfly. Tessa re-emerged from the bathroom, walking straight to Shaw's side, holding still and calm as his hand slipped around her waist, his fingers caressing the curve of her hip.

"I'm sorry Charles, I need to borrow dear Tessa. We've been getting some strange readings from a few sensors..."

"It's alright," Charles whispered, pulling up the sheet in an attempt to cover himself as Tessa pulled on her dressing gown. She caught his eye, and he remembered what she had told him needed to happen. "I actually was wondering if I could take a better look at the fields, but uh... my chair-"

"Magneto can escort you." Shaw offered, walking out. Tessa followed him, and Charles tried to feel calm. That was good. That was what they had hoped for. But he still felt a huge swell of anxiety, as he came to realise exactly the kind of man he was dealing with, and the true extent of what was at stake.

He rebuttoned his shirt, feeling a bit sick, and went to the bathroom. He ended up undressing again so that he could shower, wanting to feel clean, to stop thinking of what had happened. To not think about the kind of man Shaw was. The kind of man he thought Charles was.

He knew Tessa had suffered, for all she wouldn't talk about it. And he had become just another method of her suffering, one more pain in her experience. He hated himself for it. He wanted to lash out, to fight the world, but he couldn't. He had to stay in control. He knew the part he had to play in the plan now. Talk to Erik, help him to believe there was a world outside the cult that was worth living in. Help him find a purpose.

Charles could do that. Charles knew he had to do that, for the sake of all of them. Not least for Erik, who needed a life that wasn't this awful hell, needed a world outside of Shaw.

He finished his shower, dressed once more, and made his way back to his desk. His telepathy would help. That meant he'd get it back soon - maybe he needed to work on persuading Shaw that he was loyal. The previous night's events would hopefully help with that.

He wanted to at least make notes of his thoughts. He was a journalist, his work relied on him recording his process. But he couldn't do that here - he needed to keep his ideas unrecorded.

A knock on the window frame startled him, but he glanced up to find Erik standing outside, a shy smile on his face.

He made his way down the ramp.

"Did you sleep well?" Erik asked, and Charles nodded. It seemed unlikely Tessa could have got a message to him in the time between her departure and Erik's arrival, not if Shaw had required her assistance.

"Wonderfully," Charles swallowed. "I wanted to take a look at the fields, and Miss Tessa suggested you knew a couple of good spots?"

"I do." Erik answered, floating Charles's chair with a wave of his hand. Charles wondered how he ever could have thought Erik was uncaring or cold, when Erik always took such care with him. Charles tried to think of small talk, but there was no topic that occurred to him that didn't feel surreal. They made the journey in silence.

"Here," Magneto said eventually, pausing in the shadow of a large barn. In the fields ahead, Charles could see the workers busy monitoring the plants. But they were somewhere quiet, that wasn't overlooked. Charles allowed himself to relax a little. They were safe for now.

Erik paused, awkward now they were alone, and Charles reached out to squeeze his hand.

"It's going to be alright," Charles promised. He didn't know that to be true, but he had to hope, had to believe that they would achieve something.

Erik nodded slowly. "Would you like to sit on the grass with me?"

"That sounds good," Charles agreed, securing his brake and lowering himself to the ground. Erik sat beside him, and Charles slung an easy arm around Erik's shoulders. Erik seemed to melt into the touch, and Charles felt a stab of hurt at the knowledge of just how desperate Erik was for some tenderness. He leaned against Erik, and Erik returned the gesture.

"Even... if it is alright," Erik started, picking at his words, some small metal balls slipping from his pocket to hover in mid-air. "Humans outside will hate us."

"Not all of them." Charles reassured. "I worked at a human-led newspaper, and I made some good friends there. And there are places for mutants that aren't... aren't like this. Shaw tells people he's giving them perfection, but he's not..."

"I want these people safe. All of them." Erik said firmly, and Charles couldn't help wondering who Erik could have been if his life hadn't turned into a nightmare. There was something about him that suggested a leader, or a teacher. He was passionate, and did what he felt was right. And he'd had to teach himself morality, with the worst possible role model. "We're safer here than we are outside."

"That isn't true. It's not... it's not perfect outside, but it isn't like this. There's freedom."

"Shaw teaches us that we're better... that we're not...we're not worthless." Erik muttered, echoing the words he had been taught.

"We aren't worthless." Charles agreed, reaching out to brush an inquisitive ladybird from Erik's hair. "But we aren't superior either. There are... some of the ideas here, they're based in need, but he's twisted them."

"I've got nowhere to go other than here," Erik mumbled, and Charles could see now that he was poking at what Shaw had used to indoctrinate him, to see what would shake loose. Some of it would stay. Some of it would be the scaffolding for Erik to start afresh. But some of it was rotten, and that would go crashing down.

"You... anyone here who needs it can stay with me for a while. I'm hoping most people have homes, but if not... I have money. I want to make sure we're okay, I can hire therapists, help people get jobs... we can find another path." Charles reached for Erik's hand, their fingers slotting together as though they were made just for each other. "You aren't alone Erik. Not any more."

Erik nodded, squeezing Charles's hands, and closing his eyes. Erik took a deep breath - and then the world around them seemed to come alive, the entirety of it sharpening, the way sun returned after rain. The suffocating layer that had been drowning Charles, chipping him away bit by bit, had lifted. In front of him, he could feel Erik's mind, burning beautifully, full of hope and love and fear. Erik felt just as intensely as Charles had expected.

Charles blinked back tears. "You-"

"I cracked it." Erik whispered, glancing around fearfully. "You... you won't be able to do much yet. But you can get basic emotions and things... Tessa said it was dangerous to do more than that yet."

"Thank you." Charles whispered back, leaning in and wrapping his arms around Erik. "Thank you so much."

Erik's hands rubbed his shoulders, and he felt Erik's thoughts tinge with curiosity, wondering if they could be overheard.

"A little," Charles supplied. "If I concentrate. Without the bracelet it’s easier but I mostly stay out of everyone else's mind. I can feel emotions, and... I can normally tell if someone is lying, even if I'm not looking."

Erik swallowed, fidgeting a little where he stood. "You can tell if I'm lying?"

"I can, but I won't... I'll try not to look."

"I want you to." Erik tried to square his shoulders. "Tessa... she said things are going to happen soon. And that before they do... that I should talk to you. Because... I've not kissed someone before, just because I want to. And I'd like to... I'd like to kiss you. And... Tessa said you wouldn't be angry, or tell Shaw, even if you didn't feel the same way."

"She was right. I would never put you in danger," Charles reassured, because that was the most important thing. He cared for Erik. More than that, he'd seen glimpses of the torment the other man lived in. If he could find comfort here, if he wanted this, Charles didn't want to refuse him. He got the feeling Erik very rarely got to make choices. He was choosing this.

They were choosing this.

He smiled, leaning in and closing the gap between them, brushing his lips against Erik's own. Charles tensed, feeling Erik's own spark of terror, half expecting to find themselves faced with armed guards or Shaw's sneering smile.

But there was nothing but them and sunlight, and he leaned in again, deepening the kiss a little. He could feel Erik's smile as he ducked away after a moment, an adorable hesitancy in his eyes. "Thank you," Erik mumbled.

Charles brushed a strand of hair out of Erik's eyes. "You're welcome. I liked that. But we don't... we don't have to do it again, if you'd rather not."

"I would want to." Erik said determinedly, glancing around. "But... maybe after."

"After." Charles agreed, even though he knew that if they did get out, they would both have a lot more to deal with than whatever it was that was threatening to blossom between them. Erik was going to have to learn to start again, and Charles was going to have to deal with the aftermath of this place.

Even with the short time he'd been involved, that felt overwhelming.

For Erik though, he was sure he could manage it.

Charles smiled at him. "After, we'll have all the time we need." With that, Charles settled against Erik's side, taking a few more moments of peace now that they had found a chance at them.

***

Having his telepathy back, even muted, was a huge relief to Charles, and in the day since it had returned to him everything felt easier. It was also somewhat of a burden, making being near Essex or Shaw an even more unpleasant sensation than previously.

Tessa had informed Shaw that Charles's initial background lay in biology, and that was enough to mean he was sitting in on a discussion between Essex and Shaw, while Erik lurked by the door, and Tessa alternated between fetching refreshments and tapping away at spreadsheets and screens on the computer.

Tessa was an unusual one. Charles was certainly not trying to pry with his telepathy - any obvious use could get its return noticed, and he knew Tessa had said about the need for a telepath. Getting discovered could cost the plan, and land Erik into trouble. But even without prying, Charles could normally feel some kind of emotion exuded by a person, be it happiness or sorrow. Shaw gave off a sickening sense of self-satisfaction, that made Charles's skin itch.

Essex had a curiosity that Charles had felt before in scientist friends he had known, but there was a ruthlessness to it that horrified him. Charles knew he could never let this man get his hands on any of Charles's family. Erik gave off a sense of anger and pride that simmered beneath the surface level of fury. And Tessa emitted nothing. There were no thoughts leaving her, no stray wisps of emotion. She could just as easily have been a computer.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a sharp bark of laughter from Shaw.

"What do you think, Charles? Are there experiments he has to carry out on Magneto, or is he just being demanding because he doesn't like it when I won't give him what he wants?"

Charles frowned, trying to work out an answer he could give without causing offence. "Magneto shows surprising finesse, and could actually be useful for making tools?" Charles suggested, trying to work out how to balance the tension between them. It was a delicate dance. He thought of how Cyclops seemed to be able to close himself off from the tension surrounding him. He felt more than a little jealous of the other man's skill.

He risked a glance at Erik, and saw discomfort writ large across his face. He longed to make his way to him, to lean up and embrace him, but it wasn't the time.

Essex shrugged a little. "I just think there's a lot more that we could learn from him. I don't need him long, a week maybe, it'd be worth it. And I'm sure that we can come to some arrangement that's mutually beneficial."

"Oh." A woman's gasp broke the silence, and they all turned towards Tessa at her spot by the computer.

"Is everything alright?" Charles asked, frowning at the sheer surprise that was matched with no psychic output.

"My King? I was just... skimming the camera feeds, and...well, you need to see this." She turned the screen to face them, showing a zoomed in photograph of the time he and Erik had spent kissing in the grass.

Chapter Text

For a moment, total silence fell over the room. The first thing to break it was a sudden spike of terror from Erik, sharper and more painful than anything Charles had felt outside of a warzone. In that moment, he realised that Erik had had no more idea of this than he had.

Mixed in with that fear was a deep sense of betrayal, of loss and confusion and uncertainty - how could this happen? Had Charles set him up?

Charles cleared his throat, wanting to say something, trying to block the other emotions - cold rage from Shaw, amusement from Essex, and that strange absence from Tessa that chilled him.

Shaw turned and approached him, raising his hand and striking Charles, forcing his head to the side. He panted, horribly aware of just how vulnerable he was, and how unable he was to fight back. He tried to reach for Shaw's mind, to stop him, to stop the pain, but whatever Erik had done to his bracelet wasn't enough. He was helpless, and he was terrified.

"You do share him around then," Essex chuckled. "Look, I'll take him off your hands for a few days. Put him in his place, do those tests I wanted. You can always borrow the thief if you want."

Shaw gazed at Essex, rage distorting his features. Charles's face was burning. He could feel a trickle of blood running down his chin. "He's mine."

"I won't touch him like that." Essex shrugged. "You stay with him in this mood, he's not going to survive. Remember what happened to Shinobi's mother?"

"Leave her." Shaw snapped, advancing on Charles again, and Charles wondered if this was how he died. He reached for Erik's mind, frantic, sinking into it, finding it familiar even if they hadn't been entwined for long before. I'm sorry.

I am too. I'm sorry. I won't forget you. Erik sounded so defeated at that moment.

"I'll take him back to his room, sire." Tessa spoke softly. "A quick death is too good for him." She walked over, grabbing the handles of Charles's wheelchair. He frantically tried to grasp her mind, to bring her under his control, but he couldn't get a grip. It was like trying to control a robot.

"Let go-" He struggled, only to flinch as she dug sharp nails into his shoulder, before resuming pushing him away. He tried to struggle free, considering throwing himself from the chair.

"You sit still." She instructed him, calm as anything. "If you fall into the mud, I can't lift you, so I'm leaving you there."

Charles tried to grip onto Erik's mind. To hold onto him. They needed each other, he couldn't let her tear them apart. He had no idea what Essex would be doing, but he couldn't stop it. He'd fallen for Tessa's lies. He'd believed everything and now- now he'd failed.

Part of him was able to accept his own death. But he couldn't accept Erik being hurt, couldn't accept what that would mean to the others. He'd thought they'd had a plan. That the three of them were working on a way out. Realising he was wrong was its own kind of horror.

His mind was screaming, and he felt helpless. She opened the door, pushing him inside, and he reached for his wheel rims, wanting to have that control at least. She nodded, allowing it.

He jerked away, turning to face her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving your life. Shaw would have killed you in that anger."

"You set us up." Charles stared at her. "I... I don't... I don't understand. I thought Erik was your friend. How..." He couldn't comprehend it, couldn't comprehend what Erik had been sentenced to.

She turned towards the door. "I have to go and calm Shaw."

"Tessa, come back, how could-" He went to chase her, and the door closed.

He tried to reach out for Erik's mind. It was always bright, and fear only made it brighter, but he could barely sense it. The bracelet around his arm was still holding it back. He tried to slam it against a wall, but there was nothing. He was trapped. Unable to get out, unable to send an alarm. And Erik was going to get hurt. Charles himself would die.

He realised with a sudden twinge of pain that he would never meet his nephew. That hurt more than the thought of dying. He knew Erik hadn't wanted this.

That stung as well. For Erik, that kiss had been a way of reclaiming freedom, of choosing. He'd been acting for himself, working out what he wanted. And Tessa had used that to set him up.

He thought back to what had happened. Shaw had seemed surprised as well - this wasn't even Tessa acting with him. He wondered if she was jockeying for position, trying to become Shaw's favourite, but the way Tessa acted towards him it was clear she despised the man - unless it had all been a lie from the first.

If so, she was the best actor he'd ever met, but she'd said she'd known how to put on a show for the cameras.

He shuddered, thinking of the times he and Erik had spoken, trusting Tessa to loop the cameras, keep their secrets. Had she been gathering it all up, ready to hand to Shaw? Had she been using him from their first meeting?

She'd given him hope he could be useful. And used it to manipulate him.

It wasn't the betrayal she had inflicted on him that hurt the worst. It was the knowledge that Erik cared about her, and trusted her, and she had used that. She had left him to his fate, to be used as some kind of labrat...

Sickness swept through Charles. He was right back to his hospital bed, immediately after his injury, knowing he was helpless, powerless. Only this time it wasn't just Charles that would suffer for it.

He shuddered. He made his way over to the window so he wasn't alone, keeping his mind open, scanning for Erik's thoughts, trying to grasp onto them.

He needed Erik to be alright. He could tell Shaw this was all his fault, could lie and plead and take the blame, if it meant Erik would be alright.

It got dark. No one came, and Erik's thoughts seemed to grow fainter still - little more than wisps that floated in the air, fast enough that he couldn't be sure if what he was feeling was real or just his mind trying to protect him from the truth of it.

He'd wanted to get her out. It had been his plan to free Tessa as well, for them all to escape. And she'd acted her part so well.

Even Raven wasn't as talented an actor as Tessa was. He wondered if it had all been some test of Erik's loyalty, one that he had failed spectacularly, or if there had been some other motivation behind it, something driving her on.

He wanted to ask her why. To get an answer. But he wasn't going to get that chance.

The first hints of light were brightening the sky when he heard a noise, and looked up to see Shinobi slipping through the door. The boy glanced up beneath his dark hair. "Excuse me, have you seen Magneto?"

"Not today."

"Oh." The boy seemed to deflate. "He didn't read to me last night and I can't find him this morning."

"I'm sure he'll turn up." Charles lied, and the boy slipped away again. Charles's body ached from a night sat in his chair, lacking the motivation to move. He was too lost.

He heard footsteps approaching after the morning announcement, and it was Shaw who walked into his room, flanked by Tessa and Cyclops. Cyclops looked deeply uncomfortable to be there, shifting his weight a little. Tessa looked as cold and empty as ever.

Shaw stepped forwards. "Charles. I've shown you nothing but generosity since you arrived here. And you betrayed me. I don't know what you hope to gain, but I tell you now, the Children of the Atom are mine. Erik is mine."

"I know. It... it was all me." Charles could hear his voice cracking a little from a combination of a lack of sleep and fear. "I seduced him, it wasn't... it wasn't his fault."

"He should know better." Shaw answered. "Magneto is a son to me, and I will not hesitate to destroy him if it becomes necessary."

Charles kept trying to find some gap in Shaw's mental armour. He'd been taught to shield, and that and Charles's weakness kept him out.

Cyclops was a different matter, his concerns for Magneto and Charles painfully loud. The young man was scared of what was going to happen, wondering if he could have done something to prevent it, afraid of what Essex would do next.

It hurt Charles to know that if he died, he wouldn't ever see Cyclops free. He'd never see Erik free. Erik would be left in a worse position than when they had met, still playing Magneto, but now without his one friend.

"I'm sorry." Charles whispered, thinking of Erik.

"It's too late for that, boy." Shaw shook his head. "Magneto is mine. Magneto has always been mine."

"I know. I won't... I won't ever interfere... I won't even speak to him again." Charles pleaded, knowing he was begging for his life. He could accept that. If he succeeded, then maybe he would be able to keep up telepathic conversation, stop Erik from being totally alone.

"You know I am good at what I do, Shaw. Please, just... just let me..." Charles's voice faltered slightly. "I don't want to die."

"My dear boy," Shaw shook his head. "I have a degree of affection for you. But I'm afraid you can't be allowed to live. If I let you live, people might think that they can take liberties with Magneto. No. You will die, and it will be public."

Charles shuddered, and Shaw grinned wider. "I think I shall have Magneto play the role of your executioner."

There was fear and disgust emanating from Cyclops, and Tessa said nothing, but she seemed to be smirking to herself.

Charles realised he had only a few days left to live. Essex had said he wanted Erik for a week.

That was all.

Charles stayed in his chair, feeling helpless, as Shaw swept from the room, gloating. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the other man, but he felt weak. Sick. Useless and powerless. It wasn't his own fate that worried him so much.

It was the impact it might have on Erik.

He had never wanted to do this to him. Tessa trailed after her master, and Cyclops stayed behind, eyeing Charles suspiciously. It stung, and Charles barely held back a bitter laugh that after everything, Cyclops being upset with him was causing him hurt.

"What's wrong?"

"You... You got Magneto into trouble." Cyclops said softly, looking at the floor. "He doesn't deserve that."

"No." Charles admitted. "He doesn't." If it wasn't for how overwhelmed he felt about his own fate, he might have noticed that Cyclops was questioning things. But he didn't have the energy for those thoughts now.

"He always... he always helped me." Cyclops mumbled. "Me and A...Me and Havok."

"I know. He's a good man." Charles swallowed back his pain. "You'll look after him."

"If I'm allowed." Cyclops agreed, his head tilted down and shoulders slumped slightly. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you."

"Tessa... Tessa told me to pass on a message." Cyclops said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. Charles didn't let himself consider his anger and upset, nodding.

"Okay, tell me what you need to?"

"She... she said that I should tell you to think of it like chess. Where what matters is the most powerful piece."

Charles's head shot up, his blood suddenly cold.

"You're sure she said powerful?"

"Yes. I guess that's the King... that what happens to the rest of us doesn't matter, because he's more important..." Cyclops shrugged, and Charles would have argued, but he couldn't. Not when his mind was racing.

Not as everything fell into place.

It was risky. So risky. There was a good chance they'd all end up dead - all other than Tessa anyway. But there weren't many chances. This one... It smarted that she hadn't let him in on what was happening, that she had set up everything towards this goal. But if she could pull it off...

Charles's throat was painfully dry.'

If that was the plan, Charles had to adapt, had to work out what he could do to help.

There was one idea he had. It wasn't much, but if he did it it would release another piece onto the board... He was still furious with Tessa, but it made sense. He hated that. "Cyclops... I have a favour to ask you."

"I can't get you out."

"It's not that." Charles closed his eyes. "Shaw's going to have me killed. So I won't... I won't ever meet my nephew. I just... I wondered if it would be possible for me to look after Nathaniel, just for a night. I'll... I'll keep him safe, I promise, I just..." He rubbed at his face, feeling sick. If he was right - he had to make sure that the child was safe. And if Nathaniel was out of the way, then Cyclops wouldn't need to hold back.

Cyclops chewed on his lip, looking far younger than the soldier he was forced to be.

"You won't hurt him?"

"Never. I'll keep him safe, and that way you and Jean can spend time together." Charles offered, knowing how smitten the young man was, how he would hardly refuse more time with her.

"Thank you." Cyclops nodded. "It'll... it'd be good... he won't be any trouble, I promise."

"I'm sure." Charles agreed. "I can look after him this evening maybe? Give you and Jean some time..."

"That would be kind." Cyclops walked over, and embraced Charles stiffly. "I'll miss you, you know?"

"I know." Charles gazed into the visor across the man's eyes. Cyclops deserved better than the life he had. "I should get into bed, will you help?"

Cyclops helped him into bed, and he tried to get some sleep. It wasn't easy. He knew he needed the rest, but he kept thinking of what could go wrong. If this didn't work, he'd never see his nephew, and Irene might find herself in the same position he was in.

His mind kept filling with awful ways that he could die. He tried not to consider them.

Gambit brought a bowl of porridge for dinner, but didn't say anything, glaring at Cyclops as he placed it down then walked away. Cyclops too had fallen silent, and Charles ate.

"If he's any trouble at all, tell whoever is guarding you, and they'll get me. He's a good kid though, he won't be any bother..." Cyclops mumbled, mostly to himself, before leaving.

He returned with that sweet infant. Charles gazed at the white streak in his hair, as little Nathaniel stared up at the world, grabbing up at him.

Cyclops hesitated before handing Nathaniel over. "You'll... you'll be careful? If there's any problems-"

"I'll be fine." Charles promised, reaching out for the child. Cyclops placed him down, looking uncertain.

"I wasn't really... but I understand. If I had never been allowed to see Nathaniel, I couldn't have... I'd have hated it."

"Thank you..." Charles smiled a little. "Go and see Jean, we'll be okay here..." He bounced the child, glancing around his room. If things started to get dangerous, the safest place for the child would be in the bathtub with something on top of it. A mattress would be ideal, but there was no way he could move that. Charles had been caught up in enough shootouts that he knew how to evaluate a space for protection.

He transferred to the wheelchair, placing the baby on his lap, and going to the bathroom, managing to pull the plastic covering over the side of the bath free. It would provide some protection at least. He meant to guard the child with his life.

Hopefully it won't come to that. A woman's voice spoke in his mind. Her telepathy rushed through him like fire, burning away any doubt or anger and finding the core of him, the fact he wanted to keep Nathaniel safe, that he wanted to free them all. It was the strongest presence he had ever felt. For a moment it felt as though the room was consumed with flames, and he gasped, struggling to breathe under the strongest telepathic assault he had known. A second later, it receded, leaving him panting.

The queen was in play.

Chapter Text

Charles was in silent awe at the telepathy that he was faced with. I can't get out to help, Charles explained. But I'll keep Nate safe.

Thank you. That thought answered, blinding bright. Brilliant and fierce and determined, and he felt breathless, shaken by the intensity of it. But he pushed forwards his determination to help, to get them out of there, and his determination to keep her son safe.

Her mind receded, and he could breathe a little easier. Keep them safe. She instructed, and then she was gone and Charles's mind was aching, but he was certain of one thing - this could actually work. Somehow they might actually manage to pull it off, and get everyone out alive. That was scarce believable, but at the same time he was almost overwhelmed by the truth of it. There was a chance that they were going to get out.

He heard someone opening his door, and tenderly placed Nate down into the bath, turning his chair around to face whatever threat. It took a moment to register Cyclops's mind, now that he was no longer blinded by his own grief. Cyclops's thoughts were organised, sharp, regimented. But they were also confused. He looked to Charles, seeking guidance.

"I felt Jean." He looked lost, frightened. He simply didn't understand what was going on.

"I know." Charles soothed him. "She's strong."

"I don't know how to help her." Cyclops whispered. Charles frowned. He didn't know - there was so much that was about to happen, Jean and Erik about to tear the place down, and Cyclops's power had no place in it - it was too wild, too dangerous. And yet, he wanted to help.

There was one obvious instruction to give.

"Go and protect the children." Charles told him. "I've got Nate, he's safe here. Help the rest."

It took only a second for Cyclops to respond, nodding and then racing from the room. Charles stared down at Nate, lying in the bathtub. The infant reached up for him, and Charles carefully lifted him, before clumsily manoeuvring into the bathtub beside him, tucking Nate between him and the side of the bath, so that he could give the child further protection. He placed the plastic covering that had been on the side of the bath over the top of the bath, hoping it would hold up if the roof were to collapse. He had hidden in bathtubs and the like before, knew it was a relatively safe place to be. That didn't stop his mouth feeling dry with fear, aware of just how helpless they would be if anyone was to attack them. He could see Nate's little eyes glowing in the dark, the little boy staring up at him curiously, clearly wondering why they were hiding.

Cyclops had said his infant son was a telepath. Charles tried to think comforting thoughts, to hide his worry behind shields, so that if Nate was reading from him he wouldn't worry. Nate gurgled softly, but gave no hint of crying, which was a relief.

Nate closed his eyes, the small boy curling up to sleep, and Charles concentrated, reaching out with his mind now that he didn't need to worry about his thoughts being overheard. He wanted to work out what was going on, and how he could help.

A lot of people didn't know what was happening yet. But he could feel spikes of concern in a few places, some panic. He searched for Erik's mind, desperately needing to soothe him. It was in such pain it was almost crying out, and Charles longed to comfort him but didn't know how. Erik?

Charles? He was hit by a wave of relief strong enough to leave him breathless, that burned through all his ignorance and delay. Erik's mind accepted his hungrily, the fear mixing with hope. I thought you'd been killed. Erik's mind was racing, garbling out words, and after being cut off from his telepathy Charles struggled a little to grasp individual thoughts in the sea of hungry pain so much pain Charles dead no alive hurt.

I'm alright. We're going to be okay. Charles promised, because he needed Erik to know that, needed Erik to realise that he wasn't on his own. It was important, necessary, for that, whatever was to come next.

I've got to go. Erik thought to him, fear making his thoughts race faster. I'm sorry Charles. Beneath those words, Charles could feel his conviction to rid the world of a monster, whatever the cost. Charles knew he could probably hold him back, if he tried, but there was no point. What Erik was planning to do needed to be done. Rather than reprimanding him, Charles tried to send out a sense of encouragement. You're not alone. Even as he said it, he decided he'd back away if Erik asked him to. If anything, Erk's thoughts seemed to cling to his own tighter.

For all his strength, the sheer power that Erik commanded, he was still a frightened boy. He was still afraid of Shaw, and he knew what needed to be done but he was scared of doing it.

Charles reached out to him, projecting the sense of standing beside him, holding his hand. Erik seemed to take some comfort in that. He could feel that Nate was growing restless, probably picking up the tension around them. I know we can be free, Erik. Charles thought, and Erik sent back a wave of emotion. Fear, yes, but also hope, and something dangerously close to love.

Charles wished he could be there. He could catch glimpses through Erik's thoughts, but Erik was too caught up in what was happening, too afraid, to really listen. Charles wanted to fix it all, make them safe. But that wasn't his role.

He scanned other minds, even as he held onto Erik's. He could feel the steady fire of Jean's thoughts, and elsewhere the concern of Cyclops as he was surrounded by the thoughts of a gaggle of brilliant mutant children. He could feel Gambit's fear - deeper than most, but twisted through with a strong enough hope that Charles could have drowned in it. There was concern, and fear, and confusion, and belief.

He found Shaw's mind. It was a disgusting, slimy thing that he wanted to get away from. It was filled with ideas of how he viewed Magneto, how he viewed Tessa, how he viewed them all. They were all just tools to him, to be used and then discarded to get the results he wanted.

Even now, Shaw was confident in what he was, in what he could do. He thought his people worshipped him, that he'd raised them higher. No woman who had forgotten her place was going to get the better of him. To these people he was a god.

That thought held until he saw that it wasn't the woman that had slipped her chains that was escaping. It was his Magneto, his weapon. But now the blade of that weapon was aimed towards him.

Charles pulled back from Shaw's mind, from the thoughts of everyone other than Erik. He stayed with him, sending a sense of comfort, as though he was standing beside him. The nightmare that haunted Erik, that had birthed Magneto, was there in front of him, and Charles needed to help.

This was the man who had taken a child and shaped a weapon, who had tried to create a monster out of the strands of an innocent's life. Elsewhere, Charles knew things had happened. He knew that Essex's mind was gone, snuffed out like a flame by Jean's power. He knew that there were scuffles, and that their side was winning. That most here wanted out, even if they were afraid. That most wanted to live.

But Charles couldn't give those things his thoughts. He had to be with Erik, even if he couldn't stay beside him. Erik's thoughts were afraid. He was trying to provide some small comfort, because Erik deserved that at least. He deserved not to be frightened. To not face this alone. This was a moment he knew Erik had dreamed of and feared. Charles's telepathy was still recovering, and at the same time, he could feel that he was helping, was certain he was where he needed to be.

Shaw smirked. Charles saw it through Erik's eyes, felt the way his blood chilled, how he wanted to be sick with his fear of it. "You don't mean this, my boy. Come to me. We can make this all better..." Shaw held out his hand.

Erik's fingers were trembling as he reached towards him. Shaw's smirk grew wider. "I knew you didn't want any of this... it's all fine, my boy. We can leave. We can start again, and this time we'll have none of this foolishness. Just unlocking your powers..." Shaw crooned, and Erik moved closer still, letting Shaw enfold him in an embrace. He was shaking. Charles wanted to scream, and then he saw.

He felt the moment Shaw stopped, the moment he froze between one breath and the next. He could tell that it wouldn't last, that he wasn't strong enough. But Erik had a blade against the back of his hands. It slipped between his fingers.

Charles left Erik's mind, throwing himself instead into the mire that was Shaw's, tangling in those thoughts. It was repulsive, what was laid bare to him. But he could feel Jean's mind beside his own, the two of them fighting for control. And then he felt the pain - blinding, not sure if it was his own or Shaw's, his mouth torn open in a yell, and he jolted away, opening his eyes to see the glowing gaze of Nathaniel in the darkness.

His mind ached, feeling bruised and battered from enduring that assault, and he was shaking. His telepathy hurt. It was agonising, forcing himself to do another search for Erik's mind, biting down whimpers.

He found it. There was pain and fear and disgust and hatred, and a sense of disbelief that was almost blinding. He was helpless and confused and he didn't - none of it - he hurt.

Charles reached out with tattered thoughts, letting his broken edges sooth Erik's own. We made it, he promised, pushing through the fear and sorrow, letting Erik hold on. He knew Erik needed him at that moment. He hurt too much to contemplate escaping his improvised shelter, and he didn't trust that it was safe outside, not yet.

Instead, he focused on the child in his arms, and the fact he could still feel Erik's mind, even now that Shaw's had disappeared. The monster was gone, the two heads destroyed. Some of the foot soldiers hadn't realised yet, that the fight they were taking part in already had come to an end. But they would.

He shushed Nathan, wrapping his bruised telepathy around himself, wanting to keep them undiscovered. He heard footsteps approaching, but his head ached too much to even begin to understand who was there, he just knew that he wasn't alone. He tried to hold still.

Nathan wriggled more aggressively in his arms, reaching up and gurgling enthusiastically, and bright light shone down on him as the lid of their shelter was removed.

Someone tried to take Nathaniel from him and he shook his head, groaning as he tried to protect the boy.

"You've done enough," a woman's voice told him. The voice from his mind, the voice of the powerful telepath. He managed to open his eyes a little, and saw the woman gazing down at him, her red hair seeming to glow. "Thank you for looking after my son."

She reached down, taking the infant from him, folding him into her arms with practiced care, and gazing down at the child with adoration. After a moment, her attention shifted to Charles. "You kept him safe."

"Once I realised what was happening. I thought I should get him to safety, and keep Cyclops out of trouble. He's with the children, I thought protecting them could help him."

"Thank you." She frowned a little, and he could feel her mind running against his own - not taking, but simply seeing, exposed before her. After a moment, she seemed satisfied. "I can help you into your chair?" she offered, but he pushed himself up to sitting, awkwardly lifting himself back over the side of the bath. It wasn't a simple movement, but he was getting better at it. He ached, fear still racing through him, but Jean looked almost like a renaissance painting, wearing red with her white-robed child tucked close to her. Once he was seated, she nodded. "You should come with us. Erik needs you."

He nodded, following her from the room, blinking a little at the sudden brightness which only seemed to grow as he stepped outside. There was quite the crowd gathering - he recognised the beaked man from before, and a few others. Cyclops stood to one side, Shinobi clutched to his side, and other children clustered close. They all looked unsure. Gambit was crouched down, entertaining the children by charging up pebbles and making tiny fireworks.

Even Tessa looked a little less than certain, leaning against a nearby building at a distance from the others, her black uniform standing out in a sea of grey and white. Charles turned and made his way over to her, allowing Jean to continue to Scott.

"I'm not going to apologise." Tessa told him. "I did what was necessary."

"You had to get Erik past that barrier." Charles understood. He hated it. But he understood. "And you wanted to check he could break through the power restrictor. That's why you had him practice on me."

"He needed the chance to learn." She agreed.

"I'm not going to thank you for tricking us." Charles began, then shook his head. "But thank you, Tessa. For getting us out of there." He offered her his hand.

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Call me Sage, and I'll accept your thanks."

"Thank you, Sage." Charles agreed. Tessa- Sage - remained a blank spot to his telepathy, an unnerving emptiness devoid of meaning. But he understood a little more now. He didn't like her, not after she'd tricked him. But he respected her, and he was pretty sure that they could work with that.

She looked past him, and he turned to follow her gaze. There were people leaving the laboratory building. First came a boy of about sixteen, supporting the weight of a young woman with a vivid white streak in her hair, who was wrapped in a blanket. She looked like she could barely stand. Like Jean, both were in red.

Gambit gasped, jumping to his feet and running to them, scooping the woman up into his arms, keeping her safely in the blanket. The two of them rested their foreheads together and even at a distance Charles could feel the affection pouring off them. It took a couple of moments for the boy to work out where he belonged, but he walked straight to Cyclops.

Cyclops stood stiffly, glancing around, tension and fear visible. Then he saw whatever hint it was he was looking for, and he wrapped his arms around the boy. The boy returned the embrace.

A few others emerged. Not many. And then last of all came another pair of men. One was short and squat, supporting the other, who was in black.

Charles's mind ached after everything, but seeing Erik was enough for him to reach out telepathically, to grasp for him, their thoughts tangling together in desperate need to anchor themselves. Erik had hidden his injuries before, but seeing them they were obvious. Charles rushed forwards on his chair.

"Bout time," the other man muttered, handing him over, and Erik stumbled before half-collapsing on top of Charles. Charles wrapped his arms around him, and after a moment Erik clung to him, shaking with desperate emotion, his body convulsing with barely hidden sobs. Charles rubbed his back, trying not to see the marks littering Erik's body. He was safe now.

Erik gripped his hand tighter, and Charles allowed it, hoping it was helpful. Then Erik squeezed his free hand into a ball, and some of the laboratories seemed to collapse in on themselves, folding up impossibly.

"No more." Erik mumbled, and Charles rubbed his back, shushing him gently. Erik's grip grew tighter, as he took a few deep breaths.

Charles realised almost everyone was looking at him and Erik. They'd lost their hero, the man who had offered them a sanctuary. And now they were looking to Erik for guidance. For knowledge of what came next.

Erik trembled and Charles gently guided him to sitting up a little bit straighter.

Charles knew how to spin a story, how to sway hearts and minds, how to get the right end result. He didn't know if Erik had the same skill, but everything he had seen of Magneto implied he didn't.

Charles tried to count. Probably three-quarters of the group were here. That left one in four who either hadn't made it, had lost the big fight, or had already escaped.

These were the survivors, who'd managed to make it through everything that had happened here. They'd made it through hell, and they could go home. Charles couldn't help wondering how many of them had lost someone - either today, or before. Because it was clear that this land was stained with blood. He wanted to leave.

He gazed out across the crowd. A few of the children had split from the main group, heading to parents. Several of the other laboratory survivors were clinging to their partners. Gambit still hadn't let go of the woman who had curled in against him, pressing kisses into her hair. Cyclops and the youth were holding onto each other.

These people didn't know what came next. He glanced at Sage, wondering what her plan was, and she simply shrugged in reply.

Erik tried to stand up, but he simply couldn't. Instead, Charles wheeled forwards a little, so that Erik was closer to the rest. He cleared his throat, and people turned towards them, curious. They were lost. And Erik was just as lost as the rest of them.

"He's dead." Erik told them. "Shaw is dead." He swallowed, forcing himself to hold his head up high as he spoke. "He's dead and he is gone, and so are... so are his ideas. He doesn't... he doesn't get to use us any more." Erik took another deep breath, flinching when he put a little weight on his right arm. He stared out the assembled crowd of mutants.

Charles gazed at Shinobi, who looked afraid, but almost hopeful. He remembered how he had felt when he had found out his own father had died, when he wasn't much older than the boy. He had felt alone. But Shinobi wasn't alone, it was clear.

"He lost. He'd lied to us. They hurt us. We all... we lost people." Erik bit his lip, taking another couple of slow breaths. "We're going to leave here. You can... go back. To family, or start a new... a new life. Without him deciding." Erik looked around. "We get to decide for ourselves how we want to live our lives."

Sage stepped forwards, away from the building, and cleared her throat. "I have already organised for some vehicles to come and pick us up. Shaw's accounts were almost empty. However, we can fund rides home to anyone who needs it." She walked a short distance from the main crowd. "Anyone who needs to get home, come here."

There was a burst of smoke from the crowd, and one pair had already disappeared. Others drifted over towards Sage, clutching at hands and sticking together in small groups. There was a sense of relief. Laughter, and hope.

A few didn't move. A large group of the children, Cyclops, Jean, Gambit and his companion, and a handful of other adults. Charles looked at them. "It's over," he told them. "You can go home now. You can rebuild your lives, or-"

Gambit shook his head, stepping closer, his strange eyes seeming to glow with emotion. "Gambit know you have a mansion, mon frere, but not all of us have anywhere t' go."

Charles thought about it. Cyclops and his brother - that must have been the teenager who was still standing close to him - had been with Essex for over a decade. Shinobi had just become an orphan. Sage had said before that she had no one. He was sure that similar tragedies lay behind everyone standing there.

"You have somewhere to go," Charles told them, determined. "You are welcome to come with me." He thought, quickly warming to the idea. "I have space, I can hire therapists, and we can help you rebuild your lives. You know I am a journalist. We can write out your stories, if you want to share them, and help..." He shrugged, staring at the handful of children standing around Cyclops, afraid and helpless. "We can work out who we are together. Cyclops, what's your name?"

"He's called Scott." Jean answered softly, cradling Nate.

"I'm not allowed-" Scott argued, before glancing towards Jean. "Yes. It's Scott."

"Well, it's good to meet you Scott. You can come and live with me for now, if you want. It's not a long term solution. But it'll be a start. I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But we're not alone."

He felt Jean's mind invade his own, searching out his motivation, trying to see if he posed a threat. He didn't fight it. He could tell she needed the reassurance. After a moment, her presence receded and she nodded, turning to the others. "He doesn't mean harm." There was silence for a moment, and then she spoke again. "I'm going with him."

There were murmurs from the rest. Erik's hand found Charles's, and squeezed a little tighter.

***

The next few hours passed in a blur. Sage ensured that everyone who was going elsewhere was provided for, that they had tickets home, that they hadn't been abandoned. And then, once the last of those had been loaded into taxis, she turned her attention to Charles and the stragglers that remained.

"You're sure you want to take responsibility for us?" she asked, and Charles nodded.

"It's not... I'm not trying to control you. But we need a fresh start, and I have space."

"I have back ups of what remains of the data, and can write out records of everything that happened here if given access to a computer." Sage informed him. "I will be doing that as a priority when we get back."

"Why?"

"There are some bodies that weren't disposed of properly. The families deserve answers." Sage told him coldly, before she stepped away.

"We're going to be safe now," Charles murmured under his breath as he watched her go. Erik had been quiet, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but he nodded in agreement, allowing Charles to rub his back.

"Charles?" Erik mumbled. "Another car's coming."

It took a moment for Charles to register what he was seeing - the familiar shape of his sister's car approaching. He felt a sob swell up in his throat - he wasn't alone, not any more. Erik straightened up a little, hobbling to his feet, and the man from before walked over to support him.

The car parked, and Raven stepped out, her skin blue and beautiful. She raced to Charles, clinging to him, and he returned her embrace, shushing her softly.

"You idiot!" She hissed at him. "You could have gotten killed, Irene's hardly slept a wink."

"How's the baby?"

"She thinks he'll be another couple of days." Raven answered. "She was sure he was waiting for you."

"How much did she know?"

"Enough to be afraid, and to be sure this was what had to happen." Raven shook her head. "We can talk about that later, she said you'd be ready to come home now..." She practically grabbed at his chair, and he shot her a glare.

"I can move myself, Raven."

"But... come on, we need to go home."

"We do. All of us." Charles swallowed, plastering a smile on his face. "Didn't Irene tell you? We've got some guests."

"I... see." Raven looked at all of them, and shook her head. "We're going to talk about this when we're home."

"I know." Charles agreed. "I'm going to need to find doctors, therapists... we're going to help these people..." He wheeled towards Erik. "Raven, there's a few people that I want you to meet."

***

In the end, they got some taxis for the rest, but he and Erik sat in the back of Raven's car, Shinobi in the passenger seat. The little boy had his face against the window, gazing in wonder at the world outside. Charles wondered if he'd been in a car before. Erik meanwhile had his eyes closed, curled up a little by Charles's side. If he'd been less tense, he could have passed as asleep. Charles squeezed his hand, and a moment later, felt Erik squeeze back.

The convoy of vehicles eventually got to his mansion, and the cluster of survivors sprawled out onto the grass, gazing up at the building in awe. Scott moved to take a step towards Jean, and was stopped when his wrist was grabbed by the man that had carried Erik, the man who was apparently "Logan", Essex's pet assassin.

The other taxis left. Sage stood awkwardly to one side. Gambit, who had offered 'Remy' as his real name, was leaning against his girl - Rogue, or Anna Marie. Logan had his arms around Scott, while a short distance away Jean was cradling Nate. There was a group of other mutants, mostly children. Raven had made her excuses, returning to her pregnant wife, and now Charles stood with the people he needed to protect.

Erik was still visibly in pain, but refused to show weakness, keeping his head held high, and hobbling, resting his weight against Charles's chair. Charles wanted him to rest, but knew Erik wouldn't listen, not until his concerns had been assuaged.

Charles took a deep breath, making himself smile at them all. "Let me give you the tour."

It had begun badly. It had begun with fear and pain and loneliness.

But the truth was, what mattered was how it ended.