Chapter Text
Westchester County, New York
Sat listening to soft music play on the record player in the garden, Raven looked upon the stone memorial crafted in record time. Fingers through her blonde hair, she contemplated the two identities she held to. Her brother was going to hire crafters to do the memorial but Elouise's talent was not unlike the Reapers' Granite. The teenager had the ability to manipulate stone. She couldn't turn herself into rock like that man could, however, she had a talent for calling them to her defense or offense. She also had an artistic flair for creation and carved them a beautiful, sleek stone square on a stone platform.
She raised her head off of Azazel's shoulder, remaining leaned against him. Tracing the names of the fallen with her eyes, she sighed quietly. Angel, Monica, Sean. The Reapers wouldn't attack their current base again, but the threat was real. Shield was fast positioning to collect the publicity and infamy Magneto did not yet achieve. The Brotherhood of Mutants were a fledgling organization despite the years. Disorganization and uncertain aims slowed their rise to power.
Damien approached them with caution. He scratched at his scaly nose, body dripping wet. She suspected the man went for a dip in the pond. It was a relatively warm day, she'd give him that much. His reptilian part had needs, such as the mesh attire he wore so his unusual skin could breathe.
“Mystique, I was wondering...”
“What?”
She straightened on the bench set out for the short ceremony held. The kids were sniffling on a bench at the back. Angel was respected and Monica was loved. Once she arrived from Louisiana, the teenager looked after everyone. She was a natural caretaker. Her early teens were devoted to helping the police locate missing persons. It was how she came to the attention of the Brotherhood, the fight for mutant existence to be acknowledged and mutant rights to develop from there. For Monica, a perfect score at hide and seek clued her into an increasing ability to find people when she thought of them.
It was easier not to reminisce about Angel Salvadore. Banshee either. They were dead. She couldn't change that. They didn't deserve what happened to them. Mystique could think that much.
Sarah and Tom did what they could to soothe the youngest of them by being there and speaking occasional comforting phrases. Aki hovered, anxiety all over his face and fidgeting stance. Would it be crazy to suggest they combine their groups? Not just for the current situation but in a permanent manner.
“Do you think Janos will leave?”
Her eyes drifted to a spot under the tree nearest the memorial where Janos had been standing for the past hour. He was always so quiet and now he was withdrawn, preferring solitary time since the ceremony. He didn't have to look sad to see he was hurting.
“I don't know. Not now. He wants to stop the Reapers for killing some of us.”
“What the professor said. We have to prepare to defend ourselves. I thought he was against fighting and about peace. That's what Magneto told us.”
“Professor Xavier believes in protecting everyone, mutants and humans,” Hank shared, walking up the aisle behind them. “He formed the X-Men for that reason. Sometimes it means fighting.”
“Never killing,” Alex declared, joining them from his own bench off to the side. “We can't be like them and kill. We can't.”
His face was red and wet. He'd been crying. He and Sean were really close. Mystique didn't cry. She was strong and skilled. Casualties happened and it was no one's fault. Raven wasn't quite so convinced.
“Alex.” Hank's expression was stern.
“We can't be like them,” he repeated, and gave the other man a look. “I mean it okay.”
Oh. Now she heard what Hank did. Alex was saying the words to try to believe them. He wanted to hit back, to get even. Hank seemed to accept his friend's assurance, adjusting his glasses and looking at Raven.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. How about you?”
Her brother gave a good speech during the ceremony. Many kind things about the three recently deceased members of their different organizations. Concern as well. Concern for an organization which appeared to have government backing or at the very least, government aid.
“I'm... I will be. We will be.”
She studied him in his non-blue form. There was an attraction. She was busy in Charles's world when they met and he showed feelings for her. Raven was becoming Mystique then, growing colder and determined to make her own life. She smiled at him. He was still cute, still a genius, still the same guy trying to improve the world whatever way he could.
Damien grinned, looking between her and Hank. “Did you guys used to date or something?”
A change of subject was in order. “Charles wants us to live in a world that accepts mutants living among humans.”
Her Brotherhood subordinate obeyed, understanding his place. He adopted a serious, formal look. Alex saw, considered, and smirked. Raven wished Azazel wasn't seated beside her.
“Oh we can leave the professor for Magneto to deal with. Let's discuss McCoy and Darkholme. What would those babies look like?”
She flushed, thinking about babies. Azazel proposed having a child some years past. They couldn't decide whether it was something they wanted, or truly, whether it was something she wanted. Raven developed an attraction to men similar to her once she found other mutants. She loved Azazel, or thought she did, but how much or in what manner was complicated. She thought she loved Charles like that when she was young and realized it was idolization. He saved her, made her belong, made her loved and safe. Her adoptive brother wasn't perfect and the flaws drove them apart.
“Well, definitely blue,” Alex ventured. “But would there be fur?”
“Myst.”
“Yes?” She stared at Azazel as a method to escape the joking.
“I will take the young ones to the church. The Brotherhood there will stay and protect them.”
Emma suggested the church might be compromised too. There was no evidence it was and there was no reason to assume it wasn't. Mystique squeezed his arm and nodded. Azazel stood and turned, motioning to the teenagers sitting behind them two rows away.
“Come. We return now.” He looked at Damien. “Demon, will you go with the others?”
“They're not staying to fight? Or defend? Or whatever the plan is?”
“They said goodbye to their allies. It's time to go.”
He thought on it a moment and said, “Yeah. Monica would want me to look after them now that she's not here. I gotta do it for her.”
The group of five met in the middle and vanished in a cloud of red. Aki was peering over at them. He'd moved closer to continue his hovering and must have listened to some of their conversation.
Nodding like he was understanding, he uttered, “Like bear?”
Her mind didn't connect his meaning right away. Hank gathered his meaning first and snorted, covering his mouth and adjusting to look in another direction. Alex laughed plenty loud, whacking Hank's shoulder with the back of his hand.
“Bear? Aw, a tiny blue teddy bear. We'll call him Haven. Isn't that a sweet name? 'Cause it's like Hank and Raven put together.”
Her lower jaw twitched, lips separating in an unimpressed scowl. Aki walked to stand with them.
“Baby bear? You have?”
Sarah jumped up. “No, Aki. No bear. There's no bear. Kuma wa inai.”
He spoke rapid Japanese, certain of himself. Sarah nodded along and then paused, lifting her gaze to Hank and her. Aki kept on talking, she was beginning to suspect explaining, and a giggle slipped out of the woman's mouth. She looked quickly at Raven, apologetic. Right.
She fixed a death glare on Alex for starting all of this funny business at her expense. “Thanks, Alex. Just what I needed today.”
Frowning when she didn't hear the music anymore, she saw Tom fiddling with the record player. The absence of music let her hear a radio on low volume and abandoned on the bench Shaw occupied earlier. Raven wasn't sure where he'd gotten to. She wondered if they should be keeping better track of the man.
“Reporting in again on the incident in Cuba. We are in the dark on details but we'll tell you what we know as we learn it.”
The radio grabbed her attention from a particular word. Cuba? She glanced at Charles arriving and stood to go to the radio, listening to the news. He certainly shouldn't be reminded of that day on the beach.
“Those responsible for the outbreak of violence are unknown. A lone individual has been sighted at a military base near a beach, attacking soldiers who attempt to enter the building. Only military personnel are allowed close and the location has a level of classification prohibiting information. Now folks, some of you may remember, more than ten years ago in 1962, the world held its breath-”
Raven switched off the radio. Cuba was a bad memory she wished they could redo. There was no redoing the past and no sense lingering on thoughts of it. Easy to remind there was little use in regret. Hard to follow through. Everyone had regrets no matter what they claimed. The trick was not letting it drag a person down to the point it crippled.
Magneto was following after Charles, still wearing his helmet and cape attire. Oh Charles must be hating that. Repulsed would be a better description of the look on her brother's face before he spun to face the taller man at the start of the aisle to the memorial. He was clearly resuming an argument between them.
“You always do this. Preying on the emotions of the vulnerable is wrong. Janos wants revenge. I know. But sending him to collect the Brotherhood members for a fight would be a mistake.”
“The battle is upon our doorstep, Charles. I will not wait until there are more losses to act.”
Shaw was lurking behind a tree. Emma stood next to him, her classic smirk in place. They were enjoying the discord. She sat on the bench, unnoticed so far. Her brother's back was to her but she could imagine the puppy face on him if Magneto flickering to rageful Erik wasn't her invention.
“When we parted ways, I felt abandoned too. I wanted us on the same side. I thought we wanted the same thing.”
“We do not.”
“Charles.”
Pure frustration. Her brother became enraptured in his own mind often. A negative to being a telepath of his capability. The focus inward helped him maintain mental blocks for sanity and protection from outside minds. It also blinded him when it mattered sometimes.
“I've been fighting for our kind. What have you been doing? You've done nothing!”
“You were right, Erik. I was wrong. This isn't working. You will do what you want. It's best we go our separate ways.”
No! Their alliance couldn't end already. It couldn't.
“That is not what I want.”
“Yes, it is. Because it allows you to keep fighting your corrupt cause.”
“Corrupt?”
“You think we're at war!”
“We are!”
“With who? The humans? Most of them don't know we exist, and the ones who do haven't done anything to hurt us.”
“Don't be naive. Who do you think those men in the suits were in New Hampshire? Or here just days ago?”
Hank drew closer and stared toward the ground while lifting his hand a bit. “Do you think it was the CIA?”
“We can't ask her.”
Fingers pushed the glasses up his nose. “Why not?”
“Moira-” Charles halted and began again. “Agent MacTaggert can't help us.”
He shook his head. “Why?”
“She can't. She doesn't remember. I..made her forget Cuba and everything before concerning mutants. It was safer.”
Magneto was back in full. “For whom?”
Shaw whistled. Mutual scowls for the tentative ally of theirs. He didn't respond otherwise.
Charles ran a hand through his hair and straightened. “I will do things now but I'll never do the things you do. Murder and terror. It isn't a world people are willing to live in forever. We are aligned presently and when this is over, when we prevent the horrible war that comes in the future, we go our own ways again.”
Two days since the attack on the mansion. They mourned the dead first. Hank, Alex, and the others told them what happened afterward. Emma and Magneto did the same for what happened at the college in exchange. Tom and Aki had some bruises which the former practiced his power to heal. Raven was curious how serious an injury he could heal one day. Charles improved, she improved, Erik...
The Brotherhood leader was rigid. “It doesn't matter how we achieve our end so long as we do.”
“Of course it does! Of course it matters how! There will come a time when we cannot hide the things we've done anymore. There are consequences to every choice. There is a right way and a wrong way. If we don't achieve our end the right way, we may have the world we thought we wanted, but we won't be able to live in it. None of the people who have done certain wrongs belong in that world we seek.”
Mystique recalled the mission she planned to complete alone. Now it seemed out of reach. Charles had that positive effect on people. He got them to believe in themselves and try harder. She hadn't killed anyone yet. Maybe that wouldn't be who she was.
“Erik, there are people who heal and there are people who break. I can't stand you're choosing to be the latter.”
Turning away, disgruntled, Magneto faced him head on once more. He appeared to think of something.
“You've convinced yourself I'm going to leave you.”
Charles replied quickly, “You did leave me.”
“I won't this time and you know it.”
The reply came slower but no less certain. “You read minds now?”
She frowned, trying to see her brother's mood. He'd angled away from them. There was nowhere to look without someone standing or sitting around looking at him. Charles realized this and made an unhappy face.
“Why me?” He sounded insecure instead of certain. “Why do my choices matter so much? I'm nothing special.”
Was he overwhelmed? He didn't seem all right. Raven preferred his current disposition as opposed to the one they discovered on a visit not that long in the past. It felt long in the past though. Strange how that occurred in memory sometimes.
“You are everything special!” Erik quieted. “You care deeply for mutants.”
“I can't change the world.”
He was doubting himself then.
“You can. You changed my world. You change everyone around you for the better. I wish you could see that.”
“It isn't true. You think too much of me. My failures-”
“Include me?”
Mystique stood up, eyes shifting from one to the other. “That isn't what I was going to say.”
“Doesn't make it any less true in your mind though, does it?”
“I need time alone. This isn't about you and I. I want to think of them... Just sit...”
“Very well, but keep in mind as well, Charles. You are far too important for me to let you walk away when this is over.”
She waved her arms. “Okay. Let's give the professor space.”
He wanted time to sit at the memorial. She could make that happen. Charles was walking down the aisle to the front benches. Everyone began moving off. Raven considered she was kind of hungry. She'd grab Hank and they could eat in the kitchen.
“Let's go. Give him some privacy.”
“Telepath.”
“Shaw, what do you want?” she questioned, not bothering to look and irritated she'd been ignored.
“Professor? What's wrong?” asked Sarah.
Raven swung to look and watched her brother's eyes roll back in his head until the whites showed. He collapsed and would have hit the ground if Aki hadn't caught most of his weight. It brought him to his knees with an alarmed shout. Alex was there to hoist the rest of his body and together they set him to lie on a bench. He was unconscious. What just happened?
“Charles!”
He peered over his shoulder thinking his sister called for him. No one was there. Alone, he stared at the stone monument in front. It was a beauty but it shouldn't exist. The family graveyard was beyond the trees behind the memorial.
Charles got to his feet and allowed them to take him to where three recent graves had been dug and filled. His mother was buried here. Adjusting his stare to her stone marker, he squinted, frowning. There were unfamiliar stones past hers. He wandered over and froze, jaw dropping as he read the engraved names on each marker.
Erik Lehnsherr, Raven Darkholme, Hank McCoy, Alex Summers, Sarah Winters, Tom Granger... Everyone. Every one of his remaining students... Everyone he loved was dead and buried here. No. This wasn't real.
Was he dreaming? He tried to wake up. But how did one wake from a dream? They couldn't. A person didn't realize he was dreaming when he was, did he?
This wasn't right. He wondered if it was X again. His darker self had finesse and unmatched strength. This felt..different. Looking at his surroundings with new awareness, he noticed everything was mostly in shadows and tinted red.
Why? What was this?
There was someone standing in the shadows of a large tree to his right. It was a literal shadowy figure of a person. They lacked distinguishable shape to identify anything more than it was humanoid. A blink and he or she was gone. He sat on the bench, confused and wondering whether his vision was the issue.
Fog crept in. The shadows seemed to grow and animate like there was sentience to them. He shivered, the air suddenly frigid. Was he hallucinating?
Searching for Hank, he quickly gave up. The fog was too thick, the shadows too dark. What was that red layering everything? It felt like a film over his eyes and he rubbed them to wipe it away ineffectually.
Charles stood abruptly, gaping at the woman curled in the bathtub. Puke was on her chin, her arm and shoulder. She was blue. Cold. So cold. Her hair was perfect though. He never understood why she climbed into the tub.
Wine bottles were scattered on the floor, a bottle a fourth filled perched precariously on the siding of the tub. His mother wore one of the expensive sweaters she liked, white pants still really white, almost new. No shoes, only socks. Bracelets and necklaces worth enough to buy a house. The policeman said that to another officer.
He was seeing things. That's all this was. He was seeing things.
The fog came in, suffocating. Charles felt the overwhelming need to get away from it. There was nowhere to go. There must be somewhere to go.
His mother disappeared. The bathroom and even the memorial area disappeared. Someone had to be doing this. He concentrated, seeking any other presence. He found the glimmer of a second mind in the fog.
The shadowy figure with no definition was back. He tried to enter his mind to investigate and stopped, looking around in bewilderment. The fog was gone, the dark exchanged for bright afternoon sunlight on a beach. He kicked at the sand, the ground feeling a little too firm beneath his shoes. The sand didn't budge. It wasn't real.
Frowning, he sought the mind. X would be clever and strong enough to create convincing sand to trick his brain. This mutant was weaker and had a different ability. Charles wondered if the red tinting was a choice or lack of skill. He was beginning to suspect choice.
His world was spinning. He fell to his knees and worried he might hurl. It's not real. Get out. Wake up. Whatever he had to do to escape. Concentrating, sweat dampened his skin.
The world quit revolving and his stomach started to settle. Panting, he stared at the fake sand under his hands. The first sound he remembered hearing surrounded him. Whispers. They were becoming deafening and it hurt his ears. He begged in his head for the whispering to stop.
A gunshot. Piercing pain in his back. He screamed. Erik. He lost everything that day. The use of his legs, his sister, his dear friend.
His legs had given out. He was lying on his side, tears streaming down his face. It hurt getting shot, having the bullet ripped out by a hand guiding metal. He meant well. Erik didn't mean to-
No. He wasn't paralyzed anymore. Charles stared at his legs, relieved he could feel them. A touch to be sure he wasn't making it up. Not a phantom feeling.
Charles climbed to his feet, scanning the edges of the water and beach. He was searching for the shadow figure but in his search he noted the fog did remain. It moved toward him. Reaching out for the mind, he realized they were in a mind. His mind.
He would have to act physically to act mentally in this case. The mutant's power was rough, untrained. He or she had significant talent but overt force in the use of a mutant ability tended to make it weaker. Knowing precisely what someone wanted to achieve, visualizing and believing it was possible, was a far better technique. It wasn't quite as simple as happy memories versus memories of pain and rage.
Whoever was responsible for his current predicament threw bad memories at him. It succeeded in stringing him along in this..place in his head. His telepathy could get him out of this. The other mutant knew it and was fighting to rob him of his stability and cognizance.
“Who are you?” he called out.
The fog rushed him and he blinked, opening his eyes to altered surroundings. Lightning flashed, jagged lines in the sky outside the large window. Thunder boomed and then rumbled. Pouring rain. He knew this night. He hated this night. He was afraid of this night. Murder and he was just a boy. As a man what he might do...
Charles suspected who was showing him things he feared. Concentrating, he sought the shadow and this time a man appeared. Short, brown hair, light eyes, a cocky smirk. The look of his attacker was a snapshot courtesy of the lightning flash. While the thunder boomed, he shook his head.
“You don't have to do this.” He identified the member of the Reapers. Jeremy Tallick, also known as Nightmare.
“What do you know about it?”
The man wasn't expecting an answer. Charles didn't usually do what others demanded. He had principles.
“Shield asked you to wait for an opening to attack me following the assault on my home, and you took it. You infected my mind. To keep me here, you have to stay connected and that puts you nearby. You can't possibly last long.”
“I don't have to.” The lightning revealed a broad grin. “The mind can only take so much. I'll find what's your biggest nightmare and the terror will do the rest.”
“My friends will find you.”
“They're too busy worrying about you. By the time they know what's happening, you'll be dead.”
“You were a computer programmer. You're an intelligent man. If you hope for a different life, why don't you end all of this and come to me?”
He spread out his arms wide. “This is my domain.”
Standing outside on the vast property near his mansion, he gazed up at a literal dragon bearing down on him from the sky. It breathed fire. Lovely. Charles shut his eyes and opened them. No sign of the dragon.
“You can't fool me! I know it's not real! None of this is real!”
“I'm real.”
He gasped, Nightmare right beside him. His grin split his face, black substance oozing out of his eyes and mouth. Hands fisted his shirt, tugging him close. The left hand shifted to his throat and tightened.
Panicking, he gripped the man's wrist with both hands to pull him off. He couldn't breathe. In here he was unusually strong. Charles was stronger. He focused and wrenched the hand free of his neck. He pushed him and Nightmare stumbled back.
The whispers returned. Grimacing, he rubbed his temples with his palms. He couldn't locate where the numerous voices were coming from. It was as if they were all around him or bouncing around impossibly. Struggling to block them out to gain peace, he was alone again.
He was no longer where he was, now standing in the town near his estate. Charles ran away when the mob of people began chasing him. It was instinct and seemed so real. They weren't normal people. They were dead. The undead. Zombies.
Racing inside a bar, he shoved the heavy door closed. He stacked chairs against the door to keep them out. Charles laughed short and deprecating. None of this was real. How many times did he need to remember it?
This really was reminiscent of a dream, disorganized, disorienting, confusing. One moment everything made sense and the next, nothing did. But something important was out of reach, out of sight.
A mummy grabbed onto him from behind with a set of sharp teeth. He didn't recall mummies having those. It roared and he struggled against the movie monster while it leaned in to bite his throat. A mix of mummy and vampire was what he was fighting here.
Voice straining, he uttered, “Really?!”
NOT – REAL!
He woke in his bed in a dark room. Sitting upright, he thought for a second it was happening. Only a second. Charles rolled out of bed and to his feet, running for the door.
“Jeremy! Listen to me!” He yanked open the door and walked quickly through the hall. “Monsters don't frighten me! Let's talk!”
His power allowed him to find and see the man standing at the center of the hall maybe nine yards farther down. Nightmare tugged on his red t-shirt, slipping his fingers in his jean pockets.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what, Jeremy?”
“Treat your enemies nice. It's stupid.”
“Everyone is worth consideration and care. They also deserve second chances. People change..if they want to.”
The whispers were heard on all sides, multiple voices, coming and going, softer and then louder. They were intrusive and eerie. Everywhere and nowhere. Why did this continue to happen? Was it to scare him?
Jeremy appeared to think it over, tilting his head from left to right. “It's too hard to hold you here without knowing what your biggest nightmare is.”
He thought about the few times he had to confront that very real fear. Ignoring such unpleasant memories, he saw the fog roll in fast, shadows creeping above him. This time when he blinked, he opened his eyes and was lying in his bed in a well-lit room. Numerous people were around him including Erik, Raven, and Tom.
“Professor!”
“Charles!”
“Finally!” Raven dropped her hand down on his left shoulder a bit too hard. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Charles opened his mouth to reply and the doubt leaked in. What if he wasn't awake?
“Nightmare,” he uttered, thinking on the things he saw.
He reached to touch Raven's hand. She was solid. Felt real. He sought the fog and shadows. Nothing. Using his telepathy he searched for Jeremy Tallick's mind. Finding it almost immediately in the next room, it was his only thought before he fell through his bed and landed on his feet in a pitch black space.
They were back in his mind. “Jeremy! Please listen!”
“When I'm done with you, I'm gonna get my vest back.”
“You said you couldn't defeat me in a battle of minds. You can stop. Let's talk.”
“Other people scare me more than you and yours, and I like doing this. It's fun.”
Whispers, quieter now. The whispers were his friends, the people surrounding him when he woke. Or didn't wake. He wasn't asleep. The bombardment of sights in his mind that weren't real were putting him in a sort of paralysis.
“You cannot win.”
He waved at him in mocking fashion. Like he was saying goodbye. “I figured it out.”
Frustrated he wasn't being listened to, he tried to see where Nightmare was in the blackness. “Figured what out?”
The man appeared, arms spread wide, beaming. “Your nightmare.”
Charles suddenly found himself surrounded by people, so many people. Their hands reached for him, voices crying out in fear and pain. Their agony flooded his mind which was wide open. He was receiving too many thoughts and feelings. His head was going to explode from the splitting headache threatening to break him apart. No no no no no no-
He screamed helpless anguish.
“It's like a waking coma.”
“You said he was delirious, out of it, Tom.”
Sat on the end of the bed by Charles's feet, he nodded. “Yes.”
Alex groaned. “Is he in a coma or not?”
“No.”
“No meaning he isn't in a coma? Or no meaning he's not not in a coma.”
“Wait. I'm confused,” Sarah said, turning away from the window and walking to the bed.
Shaw grasped the straps of the vest he wore, stood in the corner of the room, quiet as can be. In his time, drawing attention when it was desired and otherwise observing in the background provided a lot of information. Like now, he could see the telepath's friends were too close to him and would be useless. Janos, Azazel, and Emma were the ones at work.
The other telepath was by the door, brow creased, busy scanning minds. Her eyes would go to someone when she was browsing their thoughts. An hour ago when this all started, she told him Xavier's defenses were up and she could not enter his mind because of it. A mind under attack. Perhaps an individual powerful enough to perform a long range attack on behalf of Marcus Smith. Azazel teleported place to place, anywhere Smith or Xavier had been in recent days. His old friend would bring his enemy into the sky and let him drop if he could get his hands on him.
Janos searched the perimeter and grounds in case the attacker was closer than they thought. He said he'd search the mansion itself from the ground floor up, room by room. Ten minutes ago, Emma informed Janos was on their floor at the top and was searching each room. Could be a waste of time. At least his former allies implemented their ideas.
“He's not asleep, not really.” Tom pointed to Raven seated at the telepath's elbow. She leaned over and carefully raised an eyelid with her fingers to show a flitting eyeball. “His brain is active, occupied. He has no awareness of things outside as far as I can tell.”
Erik was leaning over Xavier on the other side and clutched his arm. “His eye stopped moving.”
Aki ruffled his hair with both hands in distress, appearing like he might cry. “Warui.”
“Is it?” Sarah questioned, worried. “Is it bad?”
Alarmed, Raven looked to Hank and then Tom for answers. They were shrugging, clueless. Shaw hummed and wagged his finger at them.
“Emma, would you be a dear and contact Azazel? Charles Xavier will need a doctor.”
It didn't take more than five seconds for the family to turn on him.
“What does that mean?” Raven demanded, removing herself from the bed to stomp toward him. “Do you know what's wrong with him?”
Aki and Sarah joined her. “What do you know? Tell us.”
“Nanika shite kudasai,” the Japanese boy said at him as if he could understand.
“I can help,” the scientist claimed, adjusting the promise. “Probably.”
“Azazel believes Shield's trying different strategies to get to Charles,” said Raven. “What if one of his Reapers is here causing this?”
On the bed, the telepath began thrashing and screaming. In his present state, he projected the emotions he was feeling. Judging by the various frightened, shocked, and cowering reactions, the telepath projected raw terror most.
Shaw was immune to the incidental assault on everyone in the room thanks to the special vest. He thought he heard Xavier mumble, “I can't breathe.”
It came to him. “He's an empath, isn't he?”
Nobody was in a position to respond. He surveyed the room, Emma reduced to a babbling, whimpering mess on the floor. Shaw's eyes darted to the man somehow still on his feet while the rest dropped to their knees or fell over when the projection burst out of the telepath.
“You!”
He looked at him and said through clenched teeth, “Alex Summers.”
“Does he feel the feelings, what other people are experiencing, like it could have happened to him?”
Summers offered a puzzled stare. “I guess.”
Azazel finally appeared.
“Azazel, do me a favor and take Xavier far from here.”
“As you will,” he replied, and scooped the telepath into his arms.
Not even questioning him. He approved. Respect and trust between them remained.
“What are you doing?” demanded Raven, reaching for her brother.
Without looking, he hoisted the man in his arms higher on his shoulder and extended an arm to touch her. The three of them vanished in a cloud of red. Instantly the projected suffering ceased and Erik Lehnsherr traded confusion and pain for anger.
“Why did you send him away?!”
Shaw was the picture of calm and that angered Erik more.
“Tell me, you ba-!”
“He's not just a telepath.”
Erik slowed his stride to him and halted. “Explain.”
“He's also an empath. When the brain endures too much mental strain, the body can fail in response. His heart was about to give out. I saved his life. You should be grateful.”
“How could you know that?” the scientist requested, curiosity aroused.
Smug, Shaw smiled and found a chair to sit in comfortably. Time for a story.
“Well now, let's see. In the thirties there was this girl who could conjure the most astonishing illusions...”