It takes a heap o' livin 2/4 [Erik/Charles, NC-17]
It takes a heap o' livin'
chapter 2: all things shall point due Magneto
They have their day jobs. And then, they have this.
Hank flies the jet around the warehouses a couple of times, taking multiple scans of the area and pulling up information from the house’s more powerful computers. It only takes the other kids the length of the flight to the target site to abandon all pretense of schoolwork, and their chatter fills up the comm lines.
“That is one boring set of warehouses you’re looking at there, X-Men,” drawls Sean.
Alex hums in agreement. “We’re only interested in the three, yeah?”
“I have an idea, wait, give me a second,” interjects Armando. “Ah, got it - sending it to you now, Beast.”
“Perhaps we should have locked down the basement after we’d gone,” says Charles.
“They all have computers in their rooms,” Erik points out.
“I see it now,” exclaims Hank. “Great job, Darwin.”
Hank’s hands fly over the controls, activating what Erik thinks of as ‘Team Huddle Mode’. The chairs turn from their normal forward position to a circular inward one, facing the central 3D display that drops down from the ceiling. The display projects an accurate model of the warehouse and fence, and superimposes a graphical representation of what the scans have picked up, which looks like a flat circle, colored white by the computer, that goes through the buildings, bordered by the fence and far walls of the target warehouses.
“It’s basically a sophisticated motion-and-heat detector system, but it uses a continuous field rather than laser lines,” explains Hank. “Azazel was right not to teleport straight in. An alarm goes off if there’s something in the sensor field that’s moving and giving off a heat signature. See those gaps?” There are small dark circles within the larger circle. “Those correspond with the visible guards. They’re probably wearing some kind of device that tells the system they’re allowed to be there.”
“How high up is the field?” asks Angel.
“It’s just a flat plane, a few feet above the ground, almost waist-high. Fewer small animals to pick up by mistake. And anybody sneaking in would have to be crawling, which the guards and cameras would notice.”
It’s obvious, then, how they’ll be infiltrating the place. “Angel?” asks Charles.
“Good to go, Professor,” she replies, giving them a thumbs-up.
Raven looks speculative. “Can you carry me?”
Angel’s been building her strength, Erik knows. Part of it has involved trying to lift each of them at least once. But practicing at home is far different from being on the field. He’s glad that she takes a moment to think about it carefully before nodding.
Charles doesn’t say anything, but either he’s asked her telepathically or the question is clear on his face, because Raven turns to him and says, “It’ll be much faster and more efficient if there are two sets of eyes in that place, Professor. And you know Angel and I have been practicing.”
Her brother sighs and nods. Angel glances at Erik briefly, but doesn’t say anything; she, at least, knows of his belief that when someone claims to be ready for something, he accepts that they are. (Of course, this only applies to people he believes know what the fuck they’re doing - which is, admittedly, a fairly short list.)
Hank deposits them a few warehouses away from the site, and they silently creep over dusty, grassless ground and the dark hollows of disused buildings. It’s hardly the image of glamorous superhero work, especially with the smell of pollutants and smoke, the thrum of rusting metal all around, and his ear full of Alex grumbling about his history homework.
The moment Erik can sense the fence properly, he also senses the energy running through it. “I think I can sense the field itself,” he says quietly. “There’s a closed circuit of some kind.”
“That makes sense,” says Hank. “The fence covers a bigger area than the sensor field, and past the warehouses it’s broken in places. The warehouse walls, or something built right against them, probably make up part of the circuit.”
“I’ll try to figure out how the circuit works, in case there’s a way of disabling the field without triggering an alarm,” says Erik.
“Good idea,” whispers Charles. He nods at Raven and Angel. “All right, you two - you’re a go. Be careful, and try to spot the security cameras first.”
Thumbs-up. Angel’s wearing her transporting gear, and she attaches several carabiners to the straps on Raven’s suit. Her wings unstick from her bare back, spreading out fully, while she wraps her arms around Raven’s middle. A whispered acknowledgement of readiness, and then Angel takes off, slower than usual because of the extra weight. As soon as they’re off the ground, Raven tucks her arms and legs in.
Erik squints. Raven seems to have gotten smaller as well.
She’s been looking for the lightest form she can hold, explains Charles. So far, the best she can do is her child self, but I believe her goal is to keep her current form, in case she needs to fight, whilst altering her substance to reduce her overall weight.
Fascinating. Erik has always believed in taking pride in one’s mutation, and working with other mutants; he’d interact only with fellow mutants, if he could, to Charles’ endless exasperation. But he’s never really thought about using one’s mutation to accommodate another’s, not so directly.
Funny, I think about it all the time, comments Charles wryly.
You’re a telepath. Your power is in your effect on other people.
What about you? Charles volleys back. Does this mean you’re doomed to be a megalomaniac? And one day, all things shall point due Magneto?
That sort of thing should rile him up, or at least annoy him, but Charles delivers the thought with unabashed fondness, like he means some combination of I wouldn’t really mind and I’m already there.
“We’ve landed, just thought you guys should know,” Raven’s voice over the comm line interrupts them. “But don’t let our mission get in the way of your flirting or anything.”
“It’s, like, a warning sign when they both go silent,” Armando chips in with a laugh.
“You can taste the sexual tension all the way up here,” adds Angel, helpfully. “Oh look, guards with guns.”
It’s dark enough that details are hard to see, which is a pity because Erik is sure Charles must be blushing and biting his lip in a way no grown man should find endearing - but which Erik, tragically, does. He’s familiar enough with the flexes of Charles’ telepathy that he can tell Charles is reaching out to include the two on the warehouse roof.
All right, I think I’ve got everybody within the sensor field and a couple of minds out in another compound. That doesn’t guarantee you won’t be seen by someone further away, so please be careful. And find those security cameras.
While Charles is coordinating that, Erik speaks quietly into the open comm line. “Beast, cut the chatter from Base. You can keep talking to them up there, but we don’t need distractions on the ground.” He’s tempted to cut the line entirely, but the thought of not having anyone keeping an ear on the house makes him even more nervous.
“Copy,” replies Hank. “Do you want me to cut the feed from you guys?”
He hesitates. “No, they can keep watching.”
Found one cam, reports Raven. It takes Erik a moment to realize that this is coming through the telepathic link established by Charles, not her voice on the comm line. The biggest clue is a visual that accompanies the thought: a battered camera installed in one corner of the warehouse that Raven has slipped into.
Erik locates it easily with the visual reference, and he keeps it turned away from the upper window where Raven is lurking. Then Angel, in the adjacent building, finds one, and he gets hold of that too.
See, this is the sort of thing we could not have done without training together, Charles think-whispers. There’s something distinctly different about the feel of his thoughts when he’s only addressing Erik: intimate, weighing of warmth, familiar as tasting tea from Charles’ lips.
Erik, on the other hand, doesn’t trust his ability to keep his reply private, and instead closes the physical distance between them and kisses him soundly, one hand gripping the suit over Charles’ hip.
Um, are they-?
Professor, I know you think you stopped projecting things after puberty but whatever it is you and Magneto are doing, stop it right the fuck now.
I think I’ve found the mutant, declares Charles. His physical eyes are fixed on Erik’s lips, though, which is both flattering and momentarily leaves Erik worried about what Charles will say next. Mystique, she’s in your building.
Should I go over there? asks Angel.
Erik thinks about it. No, get a good look around the other two buildings. We’ll need a good idea of the layout for the extraction.
Are you sure? Raven, this time. I can see a couple of guards, but they don’t look any different from the guys in the other warehouses.
There’s a psychic dampener somewhere on the north-eastern side. I figured out what it was using Eri- Magneto’s senses.
Oh, is that what you were doing? the sarcasm in Raven’s thought feels heavy enough to sink a ship.
Now that Charles has pointed it out, Erik can sense the dampeners too, previously masked by the sheer amount of metal in container-like shapes all over the area. Their presence suggests a) possibly a rival trafficking ring has a telepath; or b) awareness that there are telepaths sprinkled through law enforcement and adjacent offices, occupying unobtrusive but often well-connected positions.
“Perhaps they know about the Professor,” says Charles.
Erik considers the idea and promptly rejects it. Sure, eventually the criminal underworld will get their acts together and realize that, hey, these days crimes involving mutants get busted and sorted out astonishingly quickly, with the police or FBI or CIA showing up at exactly the right time and no evidence of any third party involvement, even though no mutants are ever found with the apprehended criminals.
(Well, no live mutants. Sometimes one is found to have been shot by their unconscionable colleagues. Or had fallen from a tall building. Or inexplicably hit by a plasma beam, from an experimental device located near the crime scene. Very tragic stuff.)
Technically, the Professor can’t exist, replies Erik. As far as the world knows, telepaths are mostly scammers with parlor tricks, and the occasional individual who can act as a truth detector, for whom physical contact is necessary. Meanwhile, Charles Xavier is a guileless, mild-mannered university man with an embarrassing enthusiasm for human-mutant interrelations. ‘Anonymity is our first line of defense.’
I think I see our target, reports Raven. There are more security cameras around that corner of the warehouse, and Erik obligingly keeps them turned away while he mentally follows her progress over the top of the storage crates. Through the link, Erik can sense where the dampeners are interfering with Charles’ blanket awareness, like faint static, but he can also see what Raven is seeing.
Careful that you don’t get low enough to be caught in the field, he warns her.
She’s looking at a rectangular shape, down on ground level and deep in shadow. It’s a... a girl. There are lights in another part of the warehouse, presumably where the guards can take a break, but this area is only getting the small amount of light filtering in through the windows high up. She’s… shit, she’s in a cage. Looks young, maybe twelve? They’ve put chains on her, the bastards. Can’t tell what her mutation is.
I could push through the dampeners, thinks Charles. But she might feel me. She’s frightened right now, she might react badly and give us away. Also, there’s the chance that the dampeners are to contain her, not keep others out. Though I’m sure I’d have felt a young telepath strong enough to hide shipping crates, this close to the City.
“We also need to find out what exactly it is they are shipping,” says Erik. Though it really doesn’t matter, at least for them; if there’s a mutant involved, they’re going in.
I’ve been working on that, Angel chips in, couldn’t find the secret shipment in the first building, but there are crates here in the third building that look like the ones from the videos.
Let me see. Charles shifts his mental attention over to Angel. Ah, yes, I’d agree.
Angel doesn’t bother waiting for Erik to confirm that he’s got a hold on all the cameras, just flits down to the tallest crate. He can feel her considering her acidic spit. He hurriedly peels open the top corner of the crate she’s standing on.
Thanks, Magneto.
He notices Charles staring at him. “What?”
“Do you even know how many things you’re manipulating right now?” asks Charles. “Mystique circled around and you kept the cameras pointed away from her even though your focus was on Angel.”
Well, it’s true that he’s probably never controlled so many tiny individual items all at once before. “And how many minds are you hovering over right now, Professor?”
“I’m not actually doing anything, though,” says Charles dismissively. “Angel and Mystique are very good at being quiet.”
“Yes, we are,” whispers Raven. “And guess who aren’t?”
There’s a faint buzzing sound, and Erik spots a small bump appearing very briefly above the warehouse that Angel had gone into. “I’ve got a couple of tacky Statue of Liberty souvenirs that sound hollow but don’t feel empty,” she says.
Good work. Mystique, get out of there. Angel, can you pick her up? Magneto, let’s close up.
Erik lifts an eyebrow at Charles, then straightens back the crate that Angel had taken the potential evidence out of. He does it slowly, in case any listening guards are alerted by the noise, but he’s not too worried on that front, as the place is full of the irregular creaks and groans of metal, especially with the light breeze from the river.
Angel and Raven make the short flight back, and the four of them trudge to the drop-off site, where Hank retrieves them without incident. Erik doesn’t fully relax until they’re in sight of the house, though.
The rest of the kids are waiting for them in the basement, to the surprise of no one. Charles is somewhat mollified to find that they’d at least brought their homework with them. Erik leaves him to do whatever it is that he does with them on school nights, and carries the Statues of Liberty over to a clear area of the communal workstation/meeting room/demonstration lab.
He leaves one for Hank to analyze later, and sets up a containment field around the other. Puts it through the usual battery of scans. Angel was right - the plastic souvenir is hollow in the middle, and said hollow is half-full of some kind of powder.
Erik mentally goes over his options for tools. Eventually he pulls over the portable saw, adjusting it easily even within the containment field. He dials the force field up to maximum, just in case - though this really does seem like a cut-and-dry drug smuggling operation - and carefully slices through the statuette, an inch from the bottom.
He’d idly worried about a hidden surprise, maybe a gaseous toxin, but nothing happens except for a small amount of powder spilling out and Lady Liberty now missing her feet. The scanners immediately pounce on the substance, and after a minute the computer screen proclaims it “COCAINE (accuracy: 80%)”.
“Erik,” exclaims Charles, marching up to him. “Really? You couldn’t have waited?”
“It’s a straightforward drug trafficking case,” replies Erik. “I took the usual precautions, but there was no reason to stay in suspense about it.”
Charles sighs, exasperated, and looks at the opened statuette. “Cocaine? Well, at least we’ll be able to have law enforcement on standby.”
“Yes, we might as well gift-wrap the case for them.”
Erik doesn’t mean to put an edge in his voice, and he sees Charles noticing it. “Erik?”
He sighs, running a hand over his face. “It’s nothing. Just - I’m tired of having to rescue our people from greedy, ignorant humans.”
He doesn’t need telepathy to know that Charles is thinking, not this again. “Erik, I know that I’ll never be able to disabuse you of your ‘them vs. us’ mindset. But the capacity for cruelty and exploitation does not differentiate between mutant and non-mutant.” Charles gives Erik a pointed look. You of all people should know that mutants are every bit as capable of hurting their own kind.
Erik shakes his head, suddenly irritated by Charles’ presence in his mind. Charles must pick up on it, because he pulls out completely, eyes widening. And it immediately feels strange, to have Charles physically close and not feel him at all. Has it been so long since Charles has deliberately stayed out? At the beginning, of course - but once Erik granted permission, Charles hasn’t been shy about delving in and out of his mind at will, and Erik has never objected. The vague discomfort he’s feeling now, like loss and vacuity and forgetting something important all knotted up, only makes him more unsettled, because shouldn’t it feel normal to be alone in his own head?
So, instead of reaching out for Charles again, he just nods, as if thanking Charles for giving him space. Charles looks even more worried, but doesn’t press him.
“We’re going in tomorrow,” Erik says, after an awkward moment.
“It seems so.” Charles is avoiding his eyes.
“I’ll let Janos know.”
“Yeah.” Charles lets out a breath, and smiles tiredly at Erik. “You should get some sleep, you have work tomorrow. I’ve got-” he gestures vaguely towards the kids.
“Right.” Erik considers going in for a kiss, wonders if that won’t just make things more awkward, wants to go for it anyway, and then Charles takes the decision out of his hands by patting Erik on the arm and returning to his brood.
Erik falls asleep before Charles gets to bed, and when he wakes up, the other side of the mattress is already empty and cooling.
+ + +
{CHAPTER INDEX: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4}
chapter 2: all things shall point due Magneto
They have their day jobs. And then, they have this.
Hank flies the jet around the warehouses a couple of times, taking multiple scans of the area and pulling up information from the house’s more powerful computers. It only takes the other kids the length of the flight to the target site to abandon all pretense of schoolwork, and their chatter fills up the comm lines.
“That is one boring set of warehouses you’re looking at there, X-Men,” drawls Sean.
Alex hums in agreement. “We’re only interested in the three, yeah?”
“I have an idea, wait, give me a second,” interjects Armando. “Ah, got it - sending it to you now, Beast.”
“Perhaps we should have locked down the basement after we’d gone,” says Charles.
“They all have computers in their rooms,” Erik points out.
“I see it now,” exclaims Hank. “Great job, Darwin.”
Hank’s hands fly over the controls, activating what Erik thinks of as ‘Team Huddle Mode’. The chairs turn from their normal forward position to a circular inward one, facing the central 3D display that drops down from the ceiling. The display projects an accurate model of the warehouse and fence, and superimposes a graphical representation of what the scans have picked up, which looks like a flat circle, colored white by the computer, that goes through the buildings, bordered by the fence and far walls of the target warehouses.
“It’s basically a sophisticated motion-and-heat detector system, but it uses a continuous field rather than laser lines,” explains Hank. “Azazel was right not to teleport straight in. An alarm goes off if there’s something in the sensor field that’s moving and giving off a heat signature. See those gaps?” There are small dark circles within the larger circle. “Those correspond with the visible guards. They’re probably wearing some kind of device that tells the system they’re allowed to be there.”
“How high up is the field?” asks Angel.
“It’s just a flat plane, a few feet above the ground, almost waist-high. Fewer small animals to pick up by mistake. And anybody sneaking in would have to be crawling, which the guards and cameras would notice.”
It’s obvious, then, how they’ll be infiltrating the place. “Angel?” asks Charles.
“Good to go, Professor,” she replies, giving them a thumbs-up.
Raven looks speculative. “Can you carry me?”
Angel’s been building her strength, Erik knows. Part of it has involved trying to lift each of them at least once. But practicing at home is far different from being on the field. He’s glad that she takes a moment to think about it carefully before nodding.
Charles doesn’t say anything, but either he’s asked her telepathically or the question is clear on his face, because Raven turns to him and says, “It’ll be much faster and more efficient if there are two sets of eyes in that place, Professor. And you know Angel and I have been practicing.”
Her brother sighs and nods. Angel glances at Erik briefly, but doesn’t say anything; she, at least, knows of his belief that when someone claims to be ready for something, he accepts that they are. (Of course, this only applies to people he believes know what the fuck they’re doing - which is, admittedly, a fairly short list.)
Hank deposits them a few warehouses away from the site, and they silently creep over dusty, grassless ground and the dark hollows of disused buildings. It’s hardly the image of glamorous superhero work, especially with the smell of pollutants and smoke, the thrum of rusting metal all around, and his ear full of Alex grumbling about his history homework.
The moment Erik can sense the fence properly, he also senses the energy running through it. “I think I can sense the field itself,” he says quietly. “There’s a closed circuit of some kind.”
“That makes sense,” says Hank. “The fence covers a bigger area than the sensor field, and past the warehouses it’s broken in places. The warehouse walls, or something built right against them, probably make up part of the circuit.”
“I’ll try to figure out how the circuit works, in case there’s a way of disabling the field without triggering an alarm,” says Erik.
“Good idea,” whispers Charles. He nods at Raven and Angel. “All right, you two - you’re a go. Be careful, and try to spot the security cameras first.”
Thumbs-up. Angel’s wearing her transporting gear, and she attaches several carabiners to the straps on Raven’s suit. Her wings unstick from her bare back, spreading out fully, while she wraps her arms around Raven’s middle. A whispered acknowledgement of readiness, and then Angel takes off, slower than usual because of the extra weight. As soon as they’re off the ground, Raven tucks her arms and legs in.
Erik squints. Raven seems to have gotten smaller as well.
She’s been looking for the lightest form she can hold, explains Charles. So far, the best she can do is her child self, but I believe her goal is to keep her current form, in case she needs to fight, whilst altering her substance to reduce her overall weight.
Fascinating. Erik has always believed in taking pride in one’s mutation, and working with other mutants; he’d interact only with fellow mutants, if he could, to Charles’ endless exasperation. But he’s never really thought about using one’s mutation to accommodate another’s, not so directly.
Funny, I think about it all the time, comments Charles wryly.
You’re a telepath. Your power is in your effect on other people.
What about you? Charles volleys back. Does this mean you’re doomed to be a megalomaniac? And one day, all things shall point due Magneto?
That sort of thing should rile him up, or at least annoy him, but Charles delivers the thought with unabashed fondness, like he means some combination of I wouldn’t really mind and I’m already there.
“We’ve landed, just thought you guys should know,” Raven’s voice over the comm line interrupts them. “But don’t let our mission get in the way of your flirting or anything.”
“It’s, like, a warning sign when they both go silent,” Armando chips in with a laugh.
“You can taste the sexual tension all the way up here,” adds Angel, helpfully. “Oh look, guards with guns.”
It’s dark enough that details are hard to see, which is a pity because Erik is sure Charles must be blushing and biting his lip in a way no grown man should find endearing - but which Erik, tragically, does. He’s familiar enough with the flexes of Charles’ telepathy that he can tell Charles is reaching out to include the two on the warehouse roof.
All right, I think I’ve got everybody within the sensor field and a couple of minds out in another compound. That doesn’t guarantee you won’t be seen by someone further away, so please be careful. And find those security cameras.
While Charles is coordinating that, Erik speaks quietly into the open comm line. “Beast, cut the chatter from Base. You can keep talking to them up there, but we don’t need distractions on the ground.” He’s tempted to cut the line entirely, but the thought of not having anyone keeping an ear on the house makes him even more nervous.
“Copy,” replies Hank. “Do you want me to cut the feed from you guys?”
He hesitates. “No, they can keep watching.”
Found one cam, reports Raven. It takes Erik a moment to realize that this is coming through the telepathic link established by Charles, not her voice on the comm line. The biggest clue is a visual that accompanies the thought: a battered camera installed in one corner of the warehouse that Raven has slipped into.
Erik locates it easily with the visual reference, and he keeps it turned away from the upper window where Raven is lurking. Then Angel, in the adjacent building, finds one, and he gets hold of that too.
See, this is the sort of thing we could not have done without training together, Charles think-whispers. There’s something distinctly different about the feel of his thoughts when he’s only addressing Erik: intimate, weighing of warmth, familiar as tasting tea from Charles’ lips.
Erik, on the other hand, doesn’t trust his ability to keep his reply private, and instead closes the physical distance between them and kisses him soundly, one hand gripping the suit over Charles’ hip.
Um, are they-?
Professor, I know you think you stopped projecting things after puberty but whatever it is you and Magneto are doing, stop it right the fuck now.
I think I’ve found the mutant, declares Charles. His physical eyes are fixed on Erik’s lips, though, which is both flattering and momentarily leaves Erik worried about what Charles will say next. Mystique, she’s in your building.
Should I go over there? asks Angel.
Erik thinks about it. No, get a good look around the other two buildings. We’ll need a good idea of the layout for the extraction.
Are you sure? Raven, this time. I can see a couple of guards, but they don’t look any different from the guys in the other warehouses.
There’s a psychic dampener somewhere on the north-eastern side. I figured out what it was using Eri- Magneto’s senses.
Oh, is that what you were doing? the sarcasm in Raven’s thought feels heavy enough to sink a ship.
Now that Charles has pointed it out, Erik can sense the dampeners too, previously masked by the sheer amount of metal in container-like shapes all over the area. Their presence suggests a) possibly a rival trafficking ring has a telepath; or b) awareness that there are telepaths sprinkled through law enforcement and adjacent offices, occupying unobtrusive but often well-connected positions.
“Perhaps they know about the Professor,” says Charles.
Erik considers the idea and promptly rejects it. Sure, eventually the criminal underworld will get their acts together and realize that, hey, these days crimes involving mutants get busted and sorted out astonishingly quickly, with the police or FBI or CIA showing up at exactly the right time and no evidence of any third party involvement, even though no mutants are ever found with the apprehended criminals.
(Well, no live mutants. Sometimes one is found to have been shot by their unconscionable colleagues. Or had fallen from a tall building. Or inexplicably hit by a plasma beam, from an experimental device located near the crime scene. Very tragic stuff.)
Technically, the Professor can’t exist, replies Erik. As far as the world knows, telepaths are mostly scammers with parlor tricks, and the occasional individual who can act as a truth detector, for whom physical contact is necessary. Meanwhile, Charles Xavier is a guileless, mild-mannered university man with an embarrassing enthusiasm for human-mutant interrelations. ‘Anonymity is our first line of defense.’
I think I see our target, reports Raven. There are more security cameras around that corner of the warehouse, and Erik obligingly keeps them turned away while he mentally follows her progress over the top of the storage crates. Through the link, Erik can sense where the dampeners are interfering with Charles’ blanket awareness, like faint static, but he can also see what Raven is seeing.
Careful that you don’t get low enough to be caught in the field, he warns her.
She’s looking at a rectangular shape, down on ground level and deep in shadow. It’s a... a girl. There are lights in another part of the warehouse, presumably where the guards can take a break, but this area is only getting the small amount of light filtering in through the windows high up. She’s… shit, she’s in a cage. Looks young, maybe twelve? They’ve put chains on her, the bastards. Can’t tell what her mutation is.
I could push through the dampeners, thinks Charles. But she might feel me. She’s frightened right now, she might react badly and give us away. Also, there’s the chance that the dampeners are to contain her, not keep others out. Though I’m sure I’d have felt a young telepath strong enough to hide shipping crates, this close to the City.
“We also need to find out what exactly it is they are shipping,” says Erik. Though it really doesn’t matter, at least for them; if there’s a mutant involved, they’re going in.
I’ve been working on that, Angel chips in, couldn’t find the secret shipment in the first building, but there are crates here in the third building that look like the ones from the videos.
Let me see. Charles shifts his mental attention over to Angel. Ah, yes, I’d agree.
Angel doesn’t bother waiting for Erik to confirm that he’s got a hold on all the cameras, just flits down to the tallest crate. He can feel her considering her acidic spit. He hurriedly peels open the top corner of the crate she’s standing on.
Thanks, Magneto.
He notices Charles staring at him. “What?”
“Do you even know how many things you’re manipulating right now?” asks Charles. “Mystique circled around and you kept the cameras pointed away from her even though your focus was on Angel.”
Well, it’s true that he’s probably never controlled so many tiny individual items all at once before. “And how many minds are you hovering over right now, Professor?”
“I’m not actually doing anything, though,” says Charles dismissively. “Angel and Mystique are very good at being quiet.”
“Yes, we are,” whispers Raven. “And guess who aren’t?”
There’s a faint buzzing sound, and Erik spots a small bump appearing very briefly above the warehouse that Angel had gone into. “I’ve got a couple of tacky Statue of Liberty souvenirs that sound hollow but don’t feel empty,” she says.
Good work. Mystique, get out of there. Angel, can you pick her up? Magneto, let’s close up.
Erik lifts an eyebrow at Charles, then straightens back the crate that Angel had taken the potential evidence out of. He does it slowly, in case any listening guards are alerted by the noise, but he’s not too worried on that front, as the place is full of the irregular creaks and groans of metal, especially with the light breeze from the river.
Angel and Raven make the short flight back, and the four of them trudge to the drop-off site, where Hank retrieves them without incident. Erik doesn’t fully relax until they’re in sight of the house, though.
The rest of the kids are waiting for them in the basement, to the surprise of no one. Charles is somewhat mollified to find that they’d at least brought their homework with them. Erik leaves him to do whatever it is that he does with them on school nights, and carries the Statues of Liberty over to a clear area of the communal workstation/meeting room/demonstration lab.
He leaves one for Hank to analyze later, and sets up a containment field around the other. Puts it through the usual battery of scans. Angel was right - the plastic souvenir is hollow in the middle, and said hollow is half-full of some kind of powder.
Erik mentally goes over his options for tools. Eventually he pulls over the portable saw, adjusting it easily even within the containment field. He dials the force field up to maximum, just in case - though this really does seem like a cut-and-dry drug smuggling operation - and carefully slices through the statuette, an inch from the bottom.
He’d idly worried about a hidden surprise, maybe a gaseous toxin, but nothing happens except for a small amount of powder spilling out and Lady Liberty now missing her feet. The scanners immediately pounce on the substance, and after a minute the computer screen proclaims it “COCAINE (accuracy: 80%)”.
“Erik,” exclaims Charles, marching up to him. “Really? You couldn’t have waited?”
“It’s a straightforward drug trafficking case,” replies Erik. “I took the usual precautions, but there was no reason to stay in suspense about it.”
Charles sighs, exasperated, and looks at the opened statuette. “Cocaine? Well, at least we’ll be able to have law enforcement on standby.”
“Yes, we might as well gift-wrap the case for them.”
Erik doesn’t mean to put an edge in his voice, and he sees Charles noticing it. “Erik?”
He sighs, running a hand over his face. “It’s nothing. Just - I’m tired of having to rescue our people from greedy, ignorant humans.”
He doesn’t need telepathy to know that Charles is thinking, not this again. “Erik, I know that I’ll never be able to disabuse you of your ‘them vs. us’ mindset. But the capacity for cruelty and exploitation does not differentiate between mutant and non-mutant.” Charles gives Erik a pointed look. You of all people should know that mutants are every bit as capable of hurting their own kind.
Erik shakes his head, suddenly irritated by Charles’ presence in his mind. Charles must pick up on it, because he pulls out completely, eyes widening. And it immediately feels strange, to have Charles physically close and not feel him at all. Has it been so long since Charles has deliberately stayed out? At the beginning, of course - but once Erik granted permission, Charles hasn’t been shy about delving in and out of his mind at will, and Erik has never objected. The vague discomfort he’s feeling now, like loss and vacuity and forgetting something important all knotted up, only makes him more unsettled, because shouldn’t it feel normal to be alone in his own head?
So, instead of reaching out for Charles again, he just nods, as if thanking Charles for giving him space. Charles looks even more worried, but doesn’t press him.
“We’re going in tomorrow,” Erik says, after an awkward moment.
“It seems so.” Charles is avoiding his eyes.
“I’ll let Janos know.”
“Yeah.” Charles lets out a breath, and smiles tiredly at Erik. “You should get some sleep, you have work tomorrow. I’ve got-” he gestures vaguely towards the kids.
“Right.” Erik considers going in for a kiss, wonders if that won’t just make things more awkward, wants to go for it anyway, and then Charles takes the decision out of his hands by patting Erik on the arm and returning to his brood.
Erik falls asleep before Charles gets to bed, and when he wakes up, the other side of the mattress is already empty and cooling.
+ + +
{CHAPTER INDEX: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4}