X-men: World of Gray

Chapter 22

Chapter 22…

On the Cassandra, the other mutants swarmed around the broken pieces of Cerebro as soon as Magneto and the others returned from the base. Angel and Riptide teleported to the mainland to start hunting down supplies they'd need. They were all sick of the entire situation. They were angry. And one thing Erik knew for certain, you didn't want to upset a group of beings capable of creating whirlwinds or spitting fire from their mouths.

Charles didn't even realize what danger he'd put himself in.

That night, Erik found himself in front of the base's steel door again. Within his magnetic grasp, the door unlocked and crept open. He stepped inside. Debris was still piled up beside the walls. Erik walked to the stairs, and with each step, his legs felt too tired to trudge on to the next one.

Charles sat beside his bed. His right arm laid on top of the mattress, the long chain connected to it dangling down to his wheelchair. He didn't bother turning as Erik approached. His fingers played with one of the bed sheets that he'd obviously slid down from the ceiling sometime that day, the fabric wrinkled from all the knots.

Stopping just a foot away, Erik peered down at his friend. "You need to get ready for bed now."

Charles gripped one of the sheets. "Come to tuck me in, did you?"

"Don't get cute with me. Just do as I've asked."

"How long do I have?"

Erik blinked. He considered Charles' words and then closed his eyes. "You destroyed most of the main control boards, but everything else is still salvageable. We should have Cerebro reconstructed in about a week."

"And what then, Erik? After you reconstruct it, what do you intend to do then?"

Erik sighed.

"Will you force me onto that machine? Torture me until I concede?"

Erik frowned. "I don't wish any of that on you."

"But it will come to that, yes? If I refuse…" Charles trailed off. He licked his lips, blinking his eyes as if a realization had just struck him.

With that, Erik leaned forward, resting his hands on Charles' armrests. Across Erik's brow, the sweat was beading. In his chest, his heart raced. He knew Charles was right; Erik had no other option left. Charles wouldn't give in—he simply wouldn't. The reasons no longer mattered.

"Yes," Erik spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "If things continue this way, it will most likely come to that."

Laying his hands in his lap, Charles lifted his chin. Something glinted in his eyes. It was barely detectable; someone who didn't know him well might not have detected it. Erik recognized it instantly. Not because he'd ever seen the look on Charles' face. It was because Erik had seen it reflected on his own.

A deep, quiet anger. Hinting at the edges of Charles' gaze.

The room seemed to cool.

And then Charles declared, "Your Nazi brothers would be so proud of you, Erik."

Erik froze in place. Charles' words shot through him, each one feeling like a spear into his chest. As if on its own, Erik's power focused. Above them, the lights started to shake. In the kitchen, the metal hinges and knobs began to rattle like something was trapped inside the cabinets and wanted desperately to get out.

Charles didn't react. He kept his glare to Erik, that cold, dark anger making his blue eyes appear almost demonic.

Erik dropped his gaze. The lights stopped shaking; the cabinets were silenced. Slowly, he stood upright again. Using his power, he unfastened Charles' handcuff from his wrist, and then said quietly, "Get ready for bed. It's getting late and I need to get back."