X-men: World of Gray

Chapter 13

Chapter 13…

Morning. Stepping into the island base, Erik spotted Charles at the dining room table and instantly furrowed his brow. The other man had his head on the table's surface, a washcloth cradling the left side of his face.

Erik passed through the fencing. As he reached his friend, he pulled back the damp cloth. From Charles' left temple down to his jaw line, there was a streak of pink mixed with small, half centimeter scrapes.

"What the hell happened here?" Erik asked.

Greeting Erik with a glare, Charles said, "Your diamond friend paid me a visit last night."

Trying to hide his surprise, Erik examined the injury. It was slightly inflamed and some scrapes had clearly bled a little, but it wasn't much worse than a bad rug burn. He grabbed the washcloth from Charles' care, walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. The icebox was too high for Charles to reach; Erik started packing ice cubes onto the cloth.

"So she smacked you?" he asked.

"She was trying to convince me to use Cerebro, and didn't particularly like it when I refused her advances." Charles angled his gaze downwards. "I might have also—indirectly—called her a whore." Despite his injury, a smile toyed with his lips.

With that, Erik snorted a breath of laughter and returned to the table. "Oh, that's smart, Charles." He pressed the washcloth to his friend's face. Charles groaned, cupping his hands over the cloth. Sitting, Erik continued, "Yes, a woman who's capable of transforming into a complete crystalline entity…and you call her a prostitute."

"Well, I realize that in hindsight." Charles dropped the washcloth from his cheek. He released a small laugh. "Really, Erik—how much longer are we going to be doing this?"

"I don't know, Charles. How much longer are you going to be doing this?"

"Don't give me that nonsense. You know damn well why I can't help you."

Erik sighed. "I actually didn't come here to argue with you today."

"That would be original."

"I think I've come up with a solution to our little problem here."

At those words, Charles raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? And what is that, Erik?"

Producing a piece of paper from his jacket's pocket, Erik handed it to Charles. Charles studied it, curiosity etched on his face. "Are these what I think they are?"

Erik nodded. "A dozen coordinates for mutants across the west coast. They're the ones Emma obtained during her short interactions with Cerebro."

"It was my understanding she couldn't use the machine."

"It causes her pain, Charles. Personally, I don't think its her telepathy that's the issue here. I think it's her own apprehension."

"Give her a sedative, then."

Erik smirked. "Yes, because that's exactly what we need. A mentally compromised telepath linking her mind with the entire planet."

Charles pursed his lips; he lifted the paper. "You said you have a solution. What is it?"

"I have no desire to bring children here to fight for our cause," Erik continued. "But you—you can help the younger generation far better than I could. I know you've already considered that. I saw the boxes at your house."

Charles gave him a once-over, but said nothing.

"Most mutants are children," Erik went on. "Finding adults is more difficult, it seems."