C. Xavier

He concentrated on breathing first; a vague, unfocused effort to make his chest rise and fall whilst the dim lights of the domed ceiling above him flickered, along with his vision. His mouth felt numb, his head too warm, his mind infested, infected, swollen.

His fingers refused to move, curled into stone, digging into his palms. The only comfort was the cold floor beneath him, remaining still while the rest of the room spun. A lone passenger on a broken carousel.

Stupid. So stupid. If mutants were the highest point of evolution, Charles had just proven that so much of him was still so very human and prone to the mistakes of fools and optimists. Turning his head as far back as it could go, he could see his wheelchair was too far to reach, on its side, wheels spinning and looking as lame and wounded as Charles felt.

Stupid, thinking that using Cerebro after so many months would not end with a paralyzed, dazed idiot being knocked on his ass. Foolish, believing that speaking to Erik through the device would give him peace and resolution. That Erik would even wish to speak with him. That Charles would even have something to say. That they would even listen, rather than tear each other apart like starving animals.

Charles began to laugh. It rattled in the chamber like the last breath of a dying man, weak and shapeless and cold. Echoing, reverberating, until,for the briefest of moments, it sounded like waves on a beach.

#We've been over this Charles

#No hard liquor until after you've eaten something

Erik Lehnsherr: Uh... magnets.

Charles Xavier: What - like, making magnets? Collecting magnets?

Raven Darkholme: Playing with magnets?