Chapter 23…
Five days came and went, and with each one, Charles felt as if he was becoming a part of the walls surrounding him. Erik arrived in the mornings to unchain Charles from his bed frame and allowed him to get ready for the day before chaining him back to his wheelchair when he left. The same routine occurred at night. Nonetheless, neither man spoke more than two words to one another during their time together.
They knew what was coming. At that moment, Erik's brotherhood was reconstructing the machine. They would be finished within a few days, and then Erik would do what he believed was necessary to bring more mutants to his cause.
The man had become the weapon Charles had feared he'd be.
It was late morning when the door behind Cerebro opened for the second time that day. Sitting in the living room, Charles turned his attention to Erik as the man entered, and knew instantly that things weren't right.
From the dark room, Erik lifted his hand and the door closed behind him.
"We need to start installing Cerebro's main processors," the other man explained, his face hidden in the dark room. "It'll take a couple hours."
The statement sounded so simple, but as Erik lumbered up the steps into the living area, Charles knew things would not be that easy. Not with his telepathy; Erik wouldn't risk it.
"We considered moving you to the yacht," Erik said as he came to the coffee table, "but then we'd have to teleport everyone back and forth, and with your abilities…this is much simpler, my friend."
From the back of his cape, Erik withdrew his right hand. In it, a syringe.
"It's a mild sedative," Erik explained. "It'll merely put you to sleep for awhile."
When he first woke in the base, Charles' reaction might have been shock or even fear. As he sat chained to his wheelchair, he realized swiftly that what he felt was…nothing.
"Go to the bathroom," Erik said and then the handcuff around Charles' wrist unlocked by itself.
Without protest, Charles followed Erik's orders. A few minutes later, he reemerged and rolled himself to his bed. He transferred to the mattress, straightened his legs with his hands, and then lay back, resting his head on the pillow.
Reaching his bedside, Erik knelt down.
"It's just for a few hours," he said.
Charles didn't reply. Maybe there was no more shock to be had. Or maybe…he just didn't care anymore.
Erik rolled up Charles' left sleeve, and then there was a sting. The drug burned his veins; Charles didn't react. Erik slid the needle out and set the syringe on the end table by the bed. He slipped the cold metal of the handcuff to Charles' left wrist as if it was a force of habit now.
Within a minute, the world began collapsing. The dangling lights above Charles blurred together until it was just one, soft light. Then, the light vanished. As he lied on his bed, Charles' eyes closed into nothingness.
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The dream returned. Gray fog swayed back and forth as if part of a wave. Other minds played there, blended with the gray; Charles couldn't see them but he felt them. He was a part of them. Countless lives with hopes and ambitions. And there—in that place—he didn't need his body.
"So, this is him, huh?"
The voice filtered through like it was whisper from miles away that Charles still managed to hear. The gray faded. Something warm and rough clamped down on his jaw.
"Real intimidating, Erik," the voice continued, a faint Spanish accent seeping into the words. "I can see now what all this drama has been about."
Charles' head was jerked to the left. Then, the vise on his face was yanked away.
"Don't touch him," Erik hissed, his voice much louder than the other man's.
Eyes still shut, Charles began to hear more. More voices—more people. There was chatter and the sound of people working. Footfalls stomped on the stone floor several feet away.
Charles tried to open his eyelids, but they seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.
"Erik," Emma called from the other side of the room. "He's coming out of it."
Gripping the bed sheet laying on top of him, Charles released a groan; the drugs were finally starting to release him.
"How much time until we're finished installing this thing?" Erik asked.
Further away, Azazel replied, "At least ten minutes."
More voices, and then Erik said, "Can you monitor him while we finish up here?"
"You need to make it fast," Emma replied.
Then, a heavy set of boots tramped away. From Cerebro, Charles heard as tools clinked and clanked against metal. Little bits of reality continued to creep through; he finally opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, the image before him tilting left and right like the world just couldn't balance itself. Before him a figure towered with her white suit and big blonde hair.
In the distance, other figures were shuffling around. There was a man dressed in a violet suit; a figure of red and black stood beside him. A girl with ebony hair and a short skirt worked beside Cerebro's platform. Erik, his helmet glinting from the lights above, stood by the main console—
One last image caught Charles, and as it did, he lifted his head from his pillow.
A figure of blue. Standing beside Erik, its curvy silhouette turned away from him.
A chill jostled up Charles' back; with it, his vision finally found some focus.
"Raven?" he called, his voice almost unrecognizable even to him.
From Cerebro, a set of amber eyes flashed his way. The girl tensed as if trying to figure out what to do.
"Raven…?" Charles called again.
At that, the blue-skinned girl nodded to Erik and then headed up the stairs. As she reached Charles' bedside, she immediately leaned over him, her expression almost motherly.
"Hey," she whispered and swept a hand through his hair. "How are you feeling?"
The words sounded so pleasant, for an instant Charles was taken back. Just earlier that year at Oxford, wrapping his arms around his sister one random evening as they walked home. Her sweet, young face had smiled at him then—a soft peach. He had smiled back.
Staring up at the girl before him, however, no smile curved his lips. As the other mutants continued reconstructing Cerebro, a dark revelation punched him like a fist to his stomach.
"You knew I was here?" Charles asked. "All this time?"
Immediately, Raven looked away as if trying to hide the guilt in her eyes.
Charles frowned at her. "Answer me."
"It's not as simple as that," she explained. "Things just got complicated."
"How could you do this? You knew what he's been doing—what he's planning and…" Charles trailed off. The world began tilting again.
Raven lowered her head to his chest. Her hands cradled his face, her fingers caressing his skin as if that alone could make everything right again. He didn't react.
After a minute, the girl lifted her head. "Just…" She took in a breath. "Just do what he's asking, Charles. Please. Then, you can go home."
Inside, his heart felt like it was rotting. Gazing up at Raven—his sister—Charles realized the truth.
"I don't know you anymore," he said.
The girl's mouth dropped, her voice silenced.
"Where's my Raven?" Charles continued. "That sweet girl…who would never do anything like this."
Raven's eyes brimmed with tears. For a heartbeat, Charles could see the hurt on her face—the telling signs that she understood the betrayal she'd committed against him. But before a single tear could fall, something shifted on her features. Her lips stopped trembling. She sucked in a breath, and then her expression closed down. In its place was a look Charles had never seen on her before. Hard. Cold. Emotionless.
"She never existed, Charles," she told him. "She was fake, just like the blonde hair. I'm sorry."
With that, the woman straightened up. She turned from him, her hands slipping away from his. On his bed, Charles's gaze drifted to the ceiling. In his stomach, something stirred. It felt like shards of ice, eating away at everything he was.
At his sides, Charles' hands tightened into fists.
"Don't start," Emma said.
Across his telepathy, the woman's crystal prison sprang up, again blocking Azazel and the others from his mind. This time, however, Charles didn't aim his telepathy at any of them. Instead, he focused it at Emma. The other telepath didn't expect it. She gasped.
"Stop that," Emma hissed.
Charles didn't. Instead, he threw everything he had at the woman; with it, the crystal barrier cracked some. From behind her, Erik peeked up from Cerebro. With a curious look on his face, he started walking back into the living area.
"I said stop it!" Emma shouted.
Charles wouldn't—he couldn't. This was his last opportunity to escape and he could play mind games just as well as Emma could. As the drugs still warped his mind, he continued his attack. And then, like dropping a vase onto pavement, the crystal barrier shattered.
"Erik!" Emma shouted.
Charles shot his telepathy towards Azazel. The teleporter's mind was there for the taking. Charles seized it.
Beside Cerebro's platform, the red man froze in place. Charles saw him—felt him. He could see out of the other man's eyes. Around Azazel, the other mutants gawked onwards like they didn't understand what they were viewing.
The pain was swift. At Charles throat, a hand clasped down. With a gasp, Charles brought his free hand to his neck; he threw his gaze upwards.
Masked by the lights on the ceiling, Erik resembled a phantom.
"Let him go, Charles," he ordered.
From Azazel's vision, Charles saw himself. Erik hovered over him, his right hand gripping down. From his own body, Charles felt as the air couldn't quite reach his lungs.
"I don't want to do this," Erik exclaimed. "Release him now, Charles!"
But Charles couldn't release him. Azazel was his only chance for freedom. And as Charles sat in that windowless base with his wrist chained to a bed, there was nothing more he desired. Freedom—from all of it.
As the air refused to come, however, Charles' mind unraveled. His telepathy weakened just enough, and then, the crystal barrier jumped back in place. From Cerebro, there came a sigh like someone waking from a nap.
Erik pulled his hand away. Immediately, Charles rolled to his side and coughed. His lungs were burning, his stomach rolling. He felt ready to pass out, and on that thought, he cupped his hands to his head as if that would help.
Around him, there was chatter. Erik barked an order to Azazel; the teleporter vanished and then reappeared a moment later. Emma hurried to him and then back to the living area; there was something in her hand now. She passed the item to Erik.
Erik didn't hesitate. He grabbed Charles' arm; there was a sting. With a gasp, Charles watched as Erik slid another needle out. The drugs worked swiftly, and within seconds, Charles dropped his head back to his pillow.
As if on their own, his eyes unfocused, the image of the other mutants merging with the darkness of Cerebro's big, round room.
End of Chapter