Rating: T

A possible slashing of Erik/Charles in later chapters though as a development or a memory is unknown.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the works or characters of X-Men, this is mearly one fans interpretation of what could have happened following the new movie: X-Men: First Class

The world was celebrating. Their songs and shouts floated seamlessly above the misshapen world below. The war had been avoided, long live the United States. He couldn't walk past a shop or down a street with out hearing the well-wishers retelling the story of the great Cuban Missile Crisis.

The fools.

The ignorant, blind fools.

It was amazing how a lie printed in one the government sanctioned papers could turn it in to truth. Of course, he had seen it all before. This was how it would start. The government would reassure the world that all was well, while publicly denying all things mutant.

Privately would be another story all together.

He had already heard whispers of the government trying to round up the mutants that Charles had helped them locate before- …well, before all of this.

It should have been he and Charles knocking on doors and bringing the confused and frightened into their sanctuary.

"A new species is being born. Help me guide it, shape it, lead it."

The sudden arrival of Charles' thoughts into his own mind caused him to pause. He would nearly reach for the helmet he now always kept at hand. Then he realized, this wasn't his old friend snooping through his mind.

No, a simple memory.

It seemed so long ago, when in truth it had been no more then a few weeks ago.

How had so much changed in so short a time?

Though, that always seemed the way with him. First the rumors, then the soldiers, then his Mother, and then his…training.

He shook his head, as if the action would push away the thoughts which had suddenly leapt to the fore point of his mind.

Why now?

Though, of course, he knew the answer. He had been consumed with hate. He wanted Schmitt, who he came to know as Shaw. He had wanted to repay him for all his 'help'. But now, as he walked the street with no general direction, he felt empty.

Yes, he still had his goals. He would see the better men - the more evolved of the species, rise above the lesser Homosapien. That had not changed. But the blind drive that had propelled him through his life for the past decades was suddenly gone.

A car door would slam as a large boisterous family raced past him and into the building he now found himself in front of. His calculating blue-grey eyes scanned up the brick siding he now faced. There was a window every ten feet wearing the same blinds and hiding the same boring décor as the next room. He could feel the moving and buzzing of the metal inside each room. He knew where he was without needing to look at the sign.


Those eyes closed.


Funny, how with out remotely intending on coming this way his feet had led him to the last place he wanted to be.

He made it a point to find out what became of his…old friend. With Emma Frost at his side, it was not difficult. Though, he found that he would prefer to be discreet about his curiosity. He knew that there were rumors of his inability to walk, and that as of yesterday he had not woken.

He swallowed past a sudden tightness in his throat, once again letting his eyes scan the windows. Not certain on what he expected to see. Regardless, he saw nothing but celebrating families or vacant windows.

Turn around.

Turn around and walk away. Leave it all behind. Charles had chosen his side - he is nothing more than a solider wounded in combat, a causality to a silent war. That made sense, it was logical and clear…

Why then did he find himself folding the collars of his shirt up against the wind, and opening the hospital door.