Chapter Text
Charles hadn’t heard them coming.
At any other point in his life, it would have been easy. Nearly a hundred minds, intent on his house, his friends and children. But now, they only come into focus when they reach the gates, and it’s going to be too late, too late—
He sends out a warning to the others. Storm and Logan are up instantly— oh, Logan never went to sleep: Charles catches a glimpse of the television before moving on, looking for the rest of the X-Men. But there is no rest of the X-Men. Just Kitty, Marie, Bobby and Warren and it’s so hard not to think of them as children— it’s hard to think at all, because there are so many minds and all they want is—
GET THE STUDENTS OUT, he projects, with none of his usual finesse. TUNNELS, CARS, RUN—
The door to his room opens and for a moment he expects guns, but it’s Storm. In her pajamas, with lightning dancing around her fingertips. “Come on.”
Charles hasn’t even left his bed. “The children.”
“We’re working on it. Logan and I will hold them off—”
NO. He doesn’t know if he says it aloud. “There’s too many, they’ll capture him, Logan needs to protect—” protect the children, Raven and Alex and Darwin and Sean and Angel— no, they’re all long gone and never children— Charles needs to keep it together—
“Hey. Hey. Professor.” Storm grabs his hand. Shocks him a little, but she doesn’t mean to. “Keep it together, okay?” Keep it together. That was her thought, not his.
“I need Cerebro.”
“You’re not strong enough yet.”
He’s not. He’s only six months un-dissolved, and he’s been trying to straighten out his mind. Trying to get anywhere near where he was when Jean— little Jeanie Grey— tore him apart. But he doesn’t have time anymore.
He and Erik will protect the children.
No—
Erik can barely lift a bucket these days, and anyway, he’s… he’s somewhere else.
“We don’t have any other options.” He thinks he sounds calm when he says it. “I’ll go to Cerebro and slow them down, and then I’ll follow you. Don’t worry. They won’t be able to reach me down there.” They’ll be able to reach him everywhere, he will be everywhere, but he will be able to get them too and that’s what matters right now.
Storm hesitates. But she knows what’s important. Maybe that’s why she’s the only one left.
“Be careful,” she says. “We only just got you back.”
She leaves, and after a moment, so does he— swings into his wheelchair with half his mind on the task and the rest of it moving up the driveway, hands on guns, all those minds blurring together into an average of intent. In the hallway, Kitty runs past Charles, dragging five students behind her. Clinging to each other’s hands, they disappear through the wall, and they’ll need time, time—
The elevator dings.
Charles rolls inside, steering his chair over the bump in the floor. It would be like any of the thousands of times he’s done this, but for the thoughts approaching— and he catches a face in them— Erik, they had a tip that Erik would be here, but Erik isn’t here and they know that’s probably the case, they’re just using him as a cover, been after an excuse since they heard of Charles’s death, they’re not going to stop and they’re not going to stop and Charles wants to reach out and steer them away but he doesn’t trust himself to do it like this, not without them noticing, coming back with more firepower, he needs— he needs—
He needs help, and when he leaves the elevator he’s faced with Cerebro’s doors. It’s been so long since he was down here. Every time he’d thought of it, he’d see that bastardized one that Erik left him in— so he'd stayed away, and he’s paying the price for that now—
How does it look from there, Charles? Still fighting the good fight?
He hasn’t been, but now he has to go and stop them, because they’re getting closer. Surrounding the house, watching for a sign that they’ve been spotted, searching for the use of mutant powers, thinking it’s so much easier now that the telepath is gone.
From here, it doesn't look like they’re playing by your rules. Maybe it’s time to play by theirs.
“Welcome, Professor.”
Has Cerebro always looked like it’s waiting to eat him alive?
One of his wheels is squeaking. Quiet in the chaos, but loud in the silence.
His hands shake as he picks up the helmet. Age? Fear? Keep it together, Ororo’s voice says, and he focuses on that. Imagines her here next to him. Her hand on his shoulder. Keep it together, keep it together—
The helmet settles over his head, and the world spins out in front of him.
The operatives are nearly at the house, a tangle of what can they do and I can’t wait to go home and don’t trust the mutants and Charles brushes past Marie thinking I can’t help I should help and Ororo thinking run run fuck shit shit blow them away and on Graymalkin there’s a local human family coming back from a trip to the city with faint echo of the Swan Lake theme in their heads— and past them all, in Washington, a room full of men watching the house on monitors, senior officials thinking of plans and logistics and needing to pee, and miles and miles away a jolt of alarm and is that you, Charles? What’s happening? But Erik is too far to help, even if he could, so Charles pulls back and looks at his own front door though the minds of a dozen men with guns and he hears Erik’s voice again, but it’s only a memory—
There’s been a change in plan.
There’s been a change in plan, he thinks, but he doesn’t have it, that surety of purpose, he’s not a fine scalpel anymore, so he reaches out, past them, minds and memories all melding together—
Maybe it’s time to play by their rules—
A few hours later, Cerebro powers down of its own accord.
The room is empty.