#johnramsay

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier understood his brother’s meaning, but the way he saw it, every single person who worked in this facility was a threat.

Leslie’s magical lock picking saved them the trouble of teleportation but it was just as well. The now cognizant lab tech would likely be sounding the alarm at any moment, evading detection was no longer an option.

Especially given the chaos that erupted the moment those doors opened.

With the main threat pinned to the ceiling, Xavier scanned the rest of the room for any potential others.

Ramsay was quick to react and pick up the gun. He planted himself in the doorway and aimed toward the hallway in case more guards came running. The second gun, the one he’d taken from the guard in the parking garage, was held at the ready at his side.

Charles/Haine: "What the fuck?" Haine swore, unknowingly echoing his guard's earlier sentiment. The room's other inhabitants shouted their own shock as the doors banged open. A technician took refuge behind the nearest machine while the nurse ducked where she stood, hands moving to protect the back of her neck.

The doctor could see nothing beyond the havoc that had broken loose almost as soon as they'd powered on the amplifier. His thorough research had not mentioned the professor being telekinetic... was he?

All semblance of kindness gone, he grabbed the nearest tech by the back of his neck and all but flung him toward the machine. "Shut it down!"

Charles stared blankly up at the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream. Far from the intoxicating rush of Cerebro, this was agony. Invisible claws scraped at every drop of his power, pushing it out farther than he could ever reach on his own.

Mason: The guard was pulled from the ceiling, dangled mid-air, and thrown across the room onto the loudmouth American. As much as he wanted to split their bodies in two, the horror of Charles' condition stayed his hand, rushing to his husband's side to remove any and every device attached.

It couldn't be like this. He needed Charles to see him. To do more than feel his presence. He was not alone, and this would never happen again.

The spell was broken as the silk and gold braid was yanked from his wrist.

Xavier/Ramsay: With Mason focused on Charles and the guard now freed from the ceiling, Xavier’s black-eyed laser focus shifted to him and the man Mason had thrown him onto.

If they thought to move or to reach for anything, they’d both find themselves pinned.

Ah, but first.

“John, shoot the machine,” Xavier said almost pleasantly, no longer bothering to whisper.

“Yep.” Wasn’t really any point in staying hidden anymore, was there?

Ramsay used his teeth to tear the silk off his wrist and aimed three consecutive shots at the machine.

Haine: Not quite an off switch, but it was certainly effective. The thrum of the internal gears whined to a stop, the unit smoking from the holes blasted into its facade.

Even with the needles being pulled free from his skin, it took a several moments for Charles to return to himself. Mason's face was the first thing his eyes latched onto and he released a soft sob. The hand that reached out to touch him was stopped short by his restraints.

Haine recovered from the blow as well as could be expected. It took some effort to push Ian's limp form off of him, but he managed. Not bad intel, then. A rescue. Well, he wasn't going to stick around for the aftermath. He made to get to his feet and bolt, only to find himself rooted to one spot.

Not similarly restrained, the nurse made a scramble for the doors on hands and knees.

Mason/Leslie: “It’s okay. I’m here, baby.” He leaned into that outreached hand, letting Charles cup his jaw while unfastening his restraints. Adrenaline argued with compassion, being gentle took willpower. There was no one else, nothing else in the room except his husband.

Until turning his attention to Charles’ ankles, expecting a strap and finding his angel, his beloved broken, swelling, and bleeding. It was impossible for his eyes to turn black, but impossible to tell the difference in the dim lighting.

There was already so much anguish, so much rage. What was one more drop of acid in the Stygian pit?

Leslie had no idea what Mason was seeing, having dropped to a knee to catch the nurse mid-crawl, covering her mouth and nose the same as the guard, pulling her to lie safely against the wall.

“Which –“ Mason didn’t need to ask. He would see for himself. Caress his mind against Charles’ memories, and find himself facing the lump on the floor beside the doctor.

There was no sense in beating a dead guard, which just left Haine.

“You motherfucker.”

Xavier: Although Xavier had merely kept the man who appeared to be in charge rooted in place, Mason’s sudden shift in demeanor and the venom in his voice told Xavier that a different approach was required.

Jaw twitching, the demon would flick his hand, intending to telekinetically toss the man against his ruined machine and pin him to it so his brother could do with him as he pleased.

As for the others in the room, they weren’t spared a thought. He’d leave them to Ramsay and Leslie.

Charles/Haine: His world had narrowed down to that steady presence. Whatever went on around them was secondary to the face in his hand. Mason was here, and they had time to sort out the rest.

He braced himself for his husband's reaction to the worst of his injuries. The rage was expected, but it stole his demon away too soon. With a wince and a groan, he forced himself into a seated position. "Mason."

Haine's pulse was practically visible, hammering through him as he desperately sought a way out. He yelped as he was moved, eyes wild with terror. Urine dampened the front of his slacks. Those eyes. These were no mutants. What could he say to stave off the attack? Nothing came to mind. "I..."

Mason: Mason offered his hand to the sound of his name and gently squeezed.

"Right here, baby." But he knew what his name meant. Knew Charles wanted this man alive. For some fucking reason.

"He can live with a broken fuckin' leg." It would be a mercy, wouldn't it? Charles loved his mercies.

His free hand outstretched, eyes directed at the doctor's leg as he squeezed his fingers into a fist, taking his right femur and breaking it in two with a crack of his knuckles.

Charles: Charles took the offered hand and held it firmly. He wouldn't deny Mason this small release and he forced himself not to look away. He suppressed a flinch at the sickening crack of bone.

He waited for the doctor's screams to die down to whimpers before speaking. He did not let go of Mason's hand.

"His psionic blocker, my love." He needed it out of the way. "The tech raised the alarm. There are guards on the way. You're going to call them off. And make sure no one leaves this building."

Xavier: "Please, allow me," said Xavier, taking a very twisted pleasure in approaching this mess of a monster with only his voice and the smell of sulfur to signal his presence.

Haine would feel the ghostly touch of unseen hands removing that ridiculous device from his head before watching what, to him, would look like the air crushing it in its grasp.

Mason/Leslie: It wasn't death, but it remained to be seen whether he would live to see the sunrise.

Leslie occupied his time under invisibility to cover the faces of those remaining conscious, pulling them into the corner with the nurse. As much as he wanted to make himself visible to Charles, remaining unseen had its advantages.

He brushed past Ramsay, fingers patting his shoulder as he muttered, "Behind." A chef's habit.

He needed to stand in the hallway. He couldn't look at Charles like that. He could fix him. Down to his bones he knew he could fix him, but he also knew this wasn't yet over.

As Charles said, there were guards on the way. The only evidence of his existence was the shadow he had forgotten he created.

"I'm gonna pick ya up," Mason said, softly. "Put your arm 'round me."

Charles: At this point, the horror was mild in comparison to his preternaturally snapped femur. He sniveled as the one defense he had against that bastard telepath was taken from him by a phantom, but said nothing. What was there to say?

Charles nodded. Deep breaths would only add to his discomfort, so he took shallow sips of air to brace for the pain of moving. His cracked ribs twinged as he slid an arm behind his husband's neck. For Mason's sake, he suppressed a flinch.

"Will you set him on his feet for me, Xavier?" As much as he didn't deserve Charles' kindness, he needed Haine clear-headed to stave off the coming attack. Already, boots could be heard slamming against tile. He muted the throbbing in his leg partially with a touch to his pain receptors.

"Pull yourself together, Haine. We don't have time for this."

Xavier/Ramsay: “As you wish.” Xavier moved Haine away from the machine and put him on his feet, standing him straight as a soldier. Moving, if attempted, would be impossible. He was still firmly within Xavier’s telekinetic grasp.

The soft, eerily calm tone of Xavier’s voice did not sit well with Ramsay at all. But what could he do? There was still a threat to deal with and they didn’t have the luxury of taking a moment to check in.

“Leslie, get behind me,” said Ramsay, moving out of sight of the door. “Can you use a gun?”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie already had his back to the wall on the other side of the hallway. By now, those footsteps were just out of sight. Too late to say anything. He was better off remaining still, out of sight, he assumed. If anyone was getting caught when shit hit the fan it would be everyone without a shroud.

Slowly, the witch rubbed his hands together, ready to charge up an inertia spell.

Charles had become a careful bridal-style bundle in Mason’s arms. “There’s others? More children?”

Charles: He wanted to so desperately to nuzzle into the crook of Mason's neck and purge all of the emotion he was bottling. He settled on holding him more tightly than was strictly necessary. A scowl settled onto his features at Mason's question. "Yes. Young adults, as well. We'll need to find some way to transport them to the school, but I'm getting ahead of myself."

He reluctantly turned away from his husband to look at where Haine "stood."

"Xavier, position him in the hall, please. If they plan to shoot first and ask questions later, I won't put anyone else at risk."

Xavier: “With pleasure.” Another small flick of Xavier’s hand and his little toy soldier was placed in the hall as requested.

Smiling, he came up behind Haine and whispered, “Although I must confess, I’d really rather they didn’t shoot first and ask questions later. You and I need to have a little chat, Mr. Haine. Your behavior has left much to be desired.”

Haine: If Haine could have bolted, he would have. He trembled with pain that had only dulled enough to be bearable. Or, perhaps, from the chill that ran down his spine at those hushed words. Either way, he was rooted to the spot. A human shield for Charles and his pet monsters.

Booted feet grew louder as half a dozen guards rounded the corner at a jog. Their assault rifles were raised against any apparent threat. But it was their boss that stood before them, pale and shaky but seemingly alone. If they noticed the stench of sulfur in the air, they had nothing to tie it to.

"Where's Ian?" the guard in front asked, peering around Haine to try and get a peek at the chaos inside the room.

The doctor very seriously considered telling the truth, but he could feel the telepath in his mind. As well as the heat radiating from the invisible threat behind him.

"I-inside. Everything is fine, here. The... the amplifier malfunctioned. Secure the exit and make sure that everyone on staff is present and accounted for."

Unconvinced, the first guard shifted his forefinger to the trigger of his weapon, prepared to move past Haine and into the room behind him.

Xavier: Six guards, all armed. Mason had his hands full with Charles. Ramsay was armed but visible. Leslie was unarmed but invisible and with magic at his disposal.

Xavier raised Haine's arm to stay the guard and leaned in close to his toy solider again.

"Put more authority into your voice and I'll have you healed and let you walk away from this with your life. Do not let those men into that room," he added, very slowly. Xavier was doing his damnedest to do this the way Charles wanted but this monster wasn't making it easy.

"Call. Them. Off."

Mason/Leslie: Leslie didn't know which caused the tremble in his hand, his blood sugar or terror in his veins. Only Xavier would see the rise and fall of his chest. Hands at the ready to cause chaos, the likes of which no sleeper could fathom. He had the upper hand, but his eyes told a different story.

Mason's stance shifted, Charles held steady as dusty colored wings slowly broke free from hiding.

They couldn't just leave. Their work wasn't finished here. What energy they had, had to remain in reserves.

Which was why two massive wings overlapped Charles' view, prepared to shield his husband from the potential threat outside.

Charles/Haine: He'd been reduced to little more than an oversized marionette. Fear was too weak a description for what Haine felt. He was chilled to his very core, beyond anything he'd experienced in his fifty-eight years. The hand that rose without his prompting trembled with it.

In Mason's arms, Charles rolled his eyes. The doctor was past threats, now, frozen by his terror. He seized control of Haine's mind, imbuing the coward's voice with his own steely resolve.

"That's enough, Tom. And the rest of you. I said to secure the exit and check on the staff. Now."

It was an air of command that might have stayed his hand, had the guard not seen past his employer and into the room beyond. Ian's corpse. A friend, and a damned good one. He'd been disarmed, and a winged...something stood in view. The entire area radiated malice.

He opened fire.

Xavier: Not even with his life on the line could Haine steel his resolve. And this was the man who had pretended he could pull off something of this magnitude?

Please.

Xavier left Haine exactly where he was while the head guard opened fire, hoping he'd at least have use as a shield for the moment or two it took him to get out of the line of fire and come to Leslie's side. Only then would he let Haine drop like a limp doll and turn his focus toward that gun.

The demon would flick his hand again, intending to snatch the weapon from the guard's hands and throw it as far away as possible. He trusted that Mason could safeguard Charles and that Ramsay could protect himself, and take a shot if he had it.

"Leslie, we need to remove the guards," he whispered urgently.

Mason/Leslie: Moments like this required trust Mason couldn’t have given even in recent years. Trust in his brother and trust in those his loved ones cared for. To open his wings for counterattack would be certain death for the fragile life in his arms.

Again, Lawrence begged for release, and again he was denied. It was only their combined strength keeping Mason’s legs strong as he pushed forward to keep the guards contained in the hallway.

His wings would hold. It wasn’t his Grace, but it was Grace enough to withstand human means.

Leslie’s intended spell was charged, whispering a Nordic spell under his breath as he stepped forward. There was no time to explain. Mere seconds as the remaining security raised their weapons to the doorway.

"Ef ég sé örvum varpað harðlega að hjörðinni minni; þó ég sé fljót á flugi, þá handtek ég þær í loftinu."

The tattoo in his palm warmed and glowed with vulgar magick. His arms spread wide, sending a wave of heat in a 10-meter dome. A ward to rob the motive force of missile weapons, so long as he harbored the energy to maintain it.

Charles/Haine: The lead guard had lost his weapon. The remaining five were quick to press forward to defend him. They sent out sprays of bullets that suspended in midair, inches from their target.

Haine's mind had snuffed out like a candle light, the pain of landing on his snapped leg too much to bear. Charles cursed at the lost connection. Once again, he'd been rendered blind. This time, by the protective barrier of his beloved's wings.

The sound of gunfire drove his heart into a frenzied pace.

Mason.

He was acting as living shield. And no amount of knowledge on demonic strength could chase away the instinctive panic. There would be no convincing Mason to look after himself when Charles was at risk. He clung more fiercely to his husband.

'Their helmets!' he projected into Xavier's and Leslie's minds. 'Try to remove their helmets!'

On the cold tile, Haine stirred. The pain in his thigh was nearly blinding, but the entire hallway had erupted into action. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to take advantage of the chaos. He set off at a slow, desperate crawl.

Xavier: Leslie’s spell may not have stopped the guards in their tracks, but it bought them precious time.

Time for Xavier to fling his arm and fling their weapons away in the process. Time for Xavier to register Charles’ voice in his head and begin to plan the best course of action.

The helmets had straps so they couldn’t merely be flicked off. Not without decapitating them all, which…wasn’t the worst solution…

‘I can’t do it without taking their heads as well,’ he thought to Charles and Mason.

Mason/Leslie: It was the heat of the moment. Hearing Charles in his head so clearly as though beside him. Just as he so often did when hearing the professor's voice, telepathy didn't stop him from speaking aloud what he thought.

"Can't move," but he considered breaking the spell after Xavier took action. There was every possibility someone had backup. A handgun out of his line of sight.

He was scared to let go, but only just realized the doctor was making a feeble attempt at escape. He had to choose one or the other.

Mason was staring upwards was at nothing, forcing his mind outwards to peer through Xavier's eyes in a flash. Only then did he shift his wings back behind his shoulders.

Charles: "No!" Charles' shout rang out both physically and mentally. He'd feel shame for it, later. But six headless corpses was more than he could bear, under the circumstances. He shut his eyes against the visual. This did nothing to chase it away.

He had to focus, find another solution. His telepathy unspooled in search of more unshielded minds.

Assault weapons rendered useless, and then flung down the hall, the guards were forced to think on their feet. Indeed, four of them did carry handguns in their belts. The remaining two pulled out blades. Anything to defend against a threat they could not see. The lead guard could at least take a shot at the one he could.

Xavier: Charles could not possibly know the weight his ‘no’ held in that moment. It would’ve been so simple, so easy to neutralize the threat then and there and not have to worry about elegant solutions.

But Charles said no, so the guards would be thrown back with an impatient wave of Xavier’s arm instead.

Time and cover were what they needed. Time and cover.

“Come,” the demon said to Leslie. “We don’t have but a moment. We need to get back into that room, I’ll keep the doors closed behind us.”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie's hands trembled. Fear in his alert and glossy eyes. At last he remembered to breathe, afraid still of dropping his spell when Xavier snapped him out of it.

"The doctor," he gasped, lowering his arms. Nausea swept over his entire being as the bullets raced forward by another foot, dropping off like metal rain on the tile.

Mason backed up, giving passage as he glanced down the hallway, allowing Charles to do the same.

"Who d'ya feel?" he asked, retreating back inside.

Charles: He shuddered his relief at carnage avoided, still too shaken to be properly grateful for Xavier's restraint. He looked, when presented the opportunity, but his mind was elsewhere.

"Frightened kids, mostly. Still locked in, but they can tell something is amiss. It's the middle of the night, so they aren't fully staffed. I can feel... three, without blockers. There are more, but I can't reach them. Some might make a run for it."

Outside, the guards were getting to their feet.

Charles shifted his focus to only the minds within the room. "Is everyone inside? Is anyone hurt?"

Xavier/Ramsay: “I’ll deal with him later,” said Xavier, the thought of that feckless coward making his blood boil. He wouldn’t get far on that leg and wouldn’t be hard to find.

“We’re fine, prof,” said Ramsay. “Don’t worry about us, you’re the one who needs lookin’ aft—“

“Mai, you have to take Charles out of here.” Xavier spoke calmly, and although Leslie was the only one who’d be able to tell, his eyes were still pitch black. “The same goes for the two of you,” he added to their pair of mages. “It’s no bother if Mason or I take a hit, they’re not equipped to kill us. The same cannot be said for the rest of you. Charles is already injured.”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie leaned himself against the wall near Ramsay, watching each person before remembering his invisibility. After some hesitation the silk was unknotted and pocketed.

"You shouldn't be here alone. Charles said something about children. We need to get them out."

Mason pressed his forehead to Charles' and sighed.

"We'll get them." He looked between the witches. "Y'all aren't leavin' Charles' side. Hear me? While I'm gone, same fuckin' room."

Leslie nodded without a second thought.

"Of course."

Charles: "Absolutely not. You are sorely mistaken if you think I'm leaving this facility for even a minute wi--" He cut himself off as Leslie appeared. Good to see that the witch was still standing. He nodded his agreement.

"They're terrified. We can help release them, once the guards are dealt with."

His eyes shut at that gentle contact, and he stroked a thumb over Mason's cheek.

"I'll be fine. We'll barricade ourselves in the room, if we have to. But you be careful. Neither of you has unlimited energy."

Xavier/Ramsay: “I fuckin’ agree,” said Ramsay, crossing his arms. “I told you I’m not letting you go into the heart of bloody darkness by yourself.”

Their concern fell on deaf ears. “How would you have us deal with them, Charles?” asked Xavier. In his view there was only one way, and Charles had already made his aversion to it quite clear.

As he had said, Xavier and Mason didn’t have unlimited energy. Whatever route they chose to take, it needed to be swift and effective and that which was swift and effective was very rarely palatable.

He sighed. “Why deal with them at all? If we know where the others are, we can go in and get them before the guards have a chance to rally. Ramsay could transport them once we gather them all.”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie managed a smile, but it was obvious something was pulling at his features. Exhaustion between physical and mental. The voices outside and the clatter of human bodies, body armor, and retrieving of weapons. A trembling hand reached for a chocolate bar. Not at all hungry, but he had to do something about his blood sugar before he started slurring words. No need to call attention to himself if he could help it.

"How much energy do you have left?" Leslie asked Ramsay. Fuck it, a small bar of chocolate was offered.

"I can't carry ya n'carry a child. Ya need t'be someplace safe," Mason whispered. I cannot lose you again, was a chant he didn't mean to give.

Charles: "I'd have them incapacitated! A broken leg is quite an effective obstacle. Obviously."

He shook his head.

"How? Teleport from room to room? They aren't being kept in a collective cell. This is a hospital. Or a farce of one, anyway. You'd both collapse before you collected half of them. Which is to say nothing of keeping them safe from attack."

His lips brushed the corner of his husband's mouth, heedless of their audience. He dropped his own voice to a murmur.

"You won't have to. I'll be safe here. They're keeping mutants here, love. They used... they tried to use me as a bloody weapon. I can't leave until it's shut down."

Xavier/Ramsay: Ramsay shook his head at the offer. “You eat it. You need it a hell of a lot more than I do.”

As to Leslie’s question? Ramsay rubbed his ring and sighed. The metal was getting cold.

“Not as much as I’d like. I could probably make one more big leap. Two at a push.”

A broken leg…

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

Under the cover of his remaining invisibility, Xavier popped out of the room. His telekinesis would hold the doors firmly shut while he assessed the situation outside and went in search of what he was looking for.

If he had to push the guards back again, he would, but his main objective wasn’t them. And it wasn’t far. It was terribly hard to make significant progress on a broken leg.

“Where do you think you’re going, little toy soldier?” He froze the coward Haine in place and crouched down beside him.

“I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Mason: Ramsay was studied across the room. Fingertips lightly brushing along his husband’s arm. Charles wasn’t willing to leave, and right this moment, Mason was willing to accommodate. The look on his husband’s face when that machine was running… he never wanted to see that again, and yet it was all he could see with every blink.

“Ya need t’sit with Charles. If this goes tit’s up, ya leave with him.” Barking orders was as easy as breathing. A different time. A rank on his shoulder. A gun in his arms. Only to dissolve into the Pit snapping orders between experiments. Ramsay’s loyalty lay with Xavier, not Charles, but he would have this no other way.

Charles was returned to the bed, positioned to sit over the edge.

“Ramsay, you’ll do that?” Only with a downward inflection in his tone. “Say yes so I can find my brother.”

Charles/Haine: Charles didn't want anyone burdened with him, but he knew to pick his battles. He gave Mason a final squeeze as he was set down.

'Thank you.'

Haine could have wept when he heard that sinister voice at his ear, again. Did just that, in fact.

"Please," he begged, almost grateful that he couldn't put a form to that voice. "I'm trying to save people."

Xavier/Ramsay: It was precisely because Ramsay’s loyalty laid with Xavier that it laid with Charles.

The witch nodded. There was so much he wanted to say but it simply wasn’t the time.

“I will but you don’t have to look for him. He’ll be back in a bit.”

Xavier tsked. “My dear Mr. Haine.” Mocking sympathy dripped from his voice as he grabbed Haine’s arm. “You can’t even save yourself. How can you possibly think you could’ve saved anyone else?”

Without warning, Xavier’s return to the room would be heralded by the sudden reappearance of Haine, followed by Xavier’s voice saying, “But fear not. You may yet be of use tonight.”

Mason/Leslie: Mason was already turning his attention to Leslie by the time Ramsay spoke. He needn't say a word. The fact that he looked to the Verbena at all made him feel a certain way, but Leslie had no intention to open his mouth. Only cross the room and wrap his arm around Charles' shoulders.

"Where all are you -" Leslie's eyes drifted as he answered his own question with skin-to-skin contact.

"He said that," but Ramsay harbored as much concern as Mason felt.

No sooner did Haine appear did Mason outstretch his hand. Telekinesis not for the doctor but for his brother. Forcing his arm into his grasp, he felt for the delicate thread on his wrist. In the heat of the moment, he couldn't say whether or not this spell altered behavior, but he wasn't taking a chance on literal blind trust.

Charles/Haine: Charles looked up at his friend with a weak smile. He hadn't had a chance to give the witch his due consideration, yet. "Hello, Les. How are you feeling? You're looking a bit pale. You didn't come here on an empty stomach, did you?"

Before he could glean an answer, Haine reappeared. His smile darkened to a scowl in an instant.

Between the pain and the teleportation, Haine heaved from his place on the ground. He forced himself to swallow the bile. "How?"

Xavier: Haine’s question would go unanswered for the moment, as Xavier almost immediately got the unpleasant surprise of being yanked to Mason’s side.

“Oi!” There was no need to ask what his brother was doing; Xavier could surmise it for himself and would very much be resisting.

“Don’t you dare,” he said with more annoyance than venom. “Do you think I have an infinite supply of this silk? Doing what we need to do is going to be a thousand times harder if we’re visible. I have exactly one other cloaking method on me and we need it for Charles and the others.”

Mason/Leslie: Judging the distance of Xavier's voice, Mason made a grab for his jaw; a conscious decision, rather than his throat.

"There's gonna be children hearin' a voice without a body. I ain't gotta tell ya they're already scared shitless. Guards already know we're in this room if ya can't fuckin' tell. Let me look at ya."

Let, he said, with one hand on his jaw, the other on his wrist. His baby brother could argue all he wanted against that strength. This was not the first time holding Xavier down.

Leslie was making an effort to ignore them.

"Came here with a granola bar and chocolate," he forced a smile. "I can try and heal some of this now, or I can take the pain away..."

Charles: Charles could not do the same. This was his family. This was his fault. He looked to his husband with a grimace, and then back to Leslie.

"Is making this leg useable going to put you on your back, Les? Be honest. I won't have you passing out on my behalf." But he wanted to be useful.

Xavier: Xavier couldn’t dodge in time. His attention was on his arm and not on Mason, which had given his brother the opening he needed.

Suddenly the silk on his wrist was the last thing on his mind. He wasn’t fighting its removal and if it was he wouldn’t try to stop it; he was struggling against the hold itself.

“Mai, let me go.” There was the slightest note of panic in his voice that he couldn’t quite mask but that would be visible on his face for a split second the moment that he became visible.

With the veil of shadow gone, the last shield he had was the pitch black of his eyes.

Mason/Leslie: The silk fell to the floor without a single regard. Now that he could see his brother, his grip loosened. Both hands gentle on his face. For a moment, despite the screaming of guards, gunfire, kicks at the door, and his beloved just behind him, they needed a moment.

"You're okay, Zav," Mason whispered.

Leslie glanced over his shoulder. This felt intrusive, which forced his attention back on Charles. If he could make Charles his whole world in that moment he would.

"Useable, yeah. I can do it." A lie with a straight face, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "That's what you want?"

Charles: Indeed. The moment was one of familial intimacy that even Charles would not interrupt. Instead, he studied Leslie's face. He knew his friend's smile possibly better than his own. This was not it.

He gave a small shake of the head, patting Leslie's back.

"I'm all right. It's not all that bad." Charles could lie, too. "We'll figure something out. This is a medical facility, of a sort."

Xavier/Ramsay: It was intrusive. Xavier's moments of vulnerability were not something everyone was privy to or that he wanted everyone to be privy to. Of all the people in that room, only Ramsay understood what Xavier was feeling but because they weren't alone, Ramsay couldn't do a damn thing about it.

And because they weren't alone, Xavier couldn't fully accept his brother's comfort.

"I'm fine." A kneejerk response and a lie anyone could see through. "There are larger issues at hand. We can't stay here. You."

Xavier turned his attention back to Haine and moved to put some distance between him and Mason. He felt too exposed to let himself have a moment and the situation gave him the benefit of distracting urgency.

The only upside to being visible was that Haine finally got to see his phantom: a tall, well-dressed man with cold, fathomless black pits for eyes.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to show me where your office is. You're going to show me where the security room is. You're going to tell me exactly how many other people you're holding in this facility. And you're going to tell me the truth because if you don't, I will make you wish that I'd just killed you."

Mason/Leslie: Fair enough. He'd follow Charles down that avenue until it was exhausted. The longer he rested the better.

"Maybe there's morphine or something in here," Leslie muttered. "Ramsay, help me look?" Something to do to ignore the commotion outside.

The moral high ground was oftentimes set on the harder path. Right now, all Mason wanted was murder. That was easy, and that was not what Charles wanted.

So he occupied his time allowing his telepathy to expand, feeling at untrapped minds, counting each conscious child. Unconscious minds took more effort; he just needed an estimate while his brother attempted an alternative strategy. Searching for children with excruciating pain or any other nurse in the facility.

Charles/Haine: He'd find eighteen captives, in total. Most were relatively healthy, if resigned to their fates. A handful with particularly destructive powers were kept bound and behind reinforced doors. Each had experienced taking of samples, but only three had full amputations. One was in the process of regenerating his stolen tail.

Haine nodded. They could take what they wanted, burn it all down, as long as he left with his life. He could always rebuild. Find new staff. Find a less protected telepath. But he kept those thoughts as far from the surface as he could.

"Y-yes. Whatever you need. I swear."

Xavier/Ramsay: Ramsay nodded and began rifling through any drawers or cabinets he could find.

Xavier’s smile was predatory. There was no depth within Haine’s mind that he could not reach but Haine didn’t need to know that.

“There’s a good little soldier. Now then, I need you to tell me how many others and picture your office. What sort of protective measures does it have? Is anyone going to come looking in there?”

Xavier’s intention was to move them all there, away from the guards.

Mason/Leslie: Another lost tail. A reminder of Dothan and the rescue of their children. The memory warmed his skin and darkened his eyes. It would be a lie to say Xavier was rubbing off on him, but it would have been the perfect excuse.

"I'm not seeing anything," Leslie sighed. He hated the realization that no intention had been made for Charles' comfort. Nothing after his leg, nothing now. He could relate to the frustration in the room, but his focus had to narrow or he would drive himself mad.

Mason had the strength to take Charles back, take multiple trips for the children. He would fall unconscious, but he could do it. But leaving meant leaving Xavier, and with every passing second the notion became beyond possibility.

Impatience was his worst enemy.

"Let me take the pain away, Charles," pleaded Leslie, returning to Charles' side.

Charles/Haine: Picture his office? Was Charles going to involve himself in this? Or did this creature also possess telepathic ability. What the fuck? He constructed the mental shields he'd been practicing, wishing desperately for his blocker.

"Eighteen. It has a reinforced door, with a bolt."

Not overly large, but it was bigger and more comfortable than any other office space in the facility. It had a small couch for long nights.

"No one will look for you there, if they don't see you enter."

Charles shook his head, but his smile was reassuring. "I'm fine. Truly. I won't have you hurting yourself on my behalf."

Xavier: Whatever defenses Haine hoping to erect were precious little against a demon. Still, Xavier made a conscious effort to simply brush the man’s mind to glean the information he needed.

The less Haine believed he could do, the better.

“Such a good answer, little soldier. Well done.”

Xavier straightened and turned to his brother and the others. “We can’t stay here. It’s safer for us all to move to Haine’s office, just until we gather the children. With any luck we can be done and out while the guards are still chasing their tails.”

He used his telekinesis to haul Haine to his feet grabbed his arm with one hand, holding the other out to Ramsay.

“All together now, we know how this works.”

Mason/Leslie: "I can't feel a thing right now," Leslie managed an earnest smile, moved his forearm out of view. Couldn't let Charles see what he had done to himself to achieve that.

"My blood sugar's fine. I'll help with the pain when we move." From the sound of things, they were in for another relocation. Mason took hold of his husband's hand and dropped his fist on his brother's shoulder.

Charles: Moved like a ragdoll, but at least he was still alive. He wasn't looking forward to more teleportation.

Charles threaded his fingers through Mason's, bracing himself for the jump. He extended his opposite hand to Leslie. "We'll see."

Xavier: The moment given to brace was purely for the benefit of Leslie and Charles. Were it not for them, he would’ve happily transported Haine without warning or mercy.

Guiding himself with the image in Haine’s head, Xavier took them all to his office and left the guards and the gunfire behind.

“Right.” Xavier released Haine’s arm but he didn’t let him down just yet.

“You said there are eighteen in total. Are they being guarded? Are their rooms locked and monitored?”

Mason/Leslie: Ragdoll wasn't Mason's intention, as they reappeared, Charles was back in his arms, rather than risk his falling on the floor. He wasn't about to have Charles standing on one foot with everything that had happened to him. He was placed upright on the couch, and this time Leslie took to the floor in front of him, carefully draping Charles' leg over his raised knee.

"Just trust me," said Leslie. At least now he could better concentrate, with gunfire only a whisper in his ear. He rubbed both hands together, and whispered a prayer between his fingers. There would be no carving into Charles' skin; that spell was too harsh and for many, too frightening. This wouldn't last nearly as long, but it was something.

Charles/Haine: Haine shook his head, breathing through the queasiness and mind-numbing pain. No tender care had been taken for his broken leg. But he spoke, regardless. Too afraid to dally despite his anguish.

"No guards at the rooms. The nurses monitor the patients in shifts, but less often, right now. It's late." He wasn't a monster.

Charles sank into the sofa at the instant relief. Despite his insistence to the contrary, the pain had driven him to distraction. The glassiness in his eyes cleared somewhat. "Stubborn," he admonished, but there was no heat in it. "Thank you, Les. How are you feeling? Do you need to eat something?"

Xavier: "Are they all in the same ward? Is the ward closed?"

If it was, he and Mason could lock themselves in it while they gathered the children. If it wasn't, Xavier had one more cloaking spell that would give them some cover. Transporting them was another matter but that was the next bridge to cross. One thing at a time.

He shared these thoughts with his brother.

"Picture the security room, Haine. I won't have us spotted on any cameras."

Mason/Leslie: "Mhm." Leslie was inclined to agree, but there would be no walking back from his blessing. His forehead pressed lightly to Charles' knee as he offered the spell, cupped hands over the nasty wound on his leg. Little more than a heavy dose of Tylenol, but it was something, leaving energy wherever else needed in the meantime.

He simply shook his head to the food question. There was a bite left of his chocolate, and he was offering it to Charles.

Mason's fingers lingered on Charles' shoulder as he rose to his feet.

"I'm goin' t'security." He wanted this shit over with. It seemed much of their hesitation was because of this one room and his patience had finally reached its peak.

Charles/Haine: "They're all over. In rooms based on... classification." There was no gentler way to put that. Haine winced at how it might sound to these people.

"Psionics, regenerative abilities, destructive abilities, et cetera." Different powers required different restraint methods. Not that he was going to say that shit out loud.

He nodded and pictured the security room. Cramped and lined with display monitors. Usually only one guard, at this time of night.

Charles shook his head. "Thank you, no. I'm not at all hungry." Which was actually the truth. Despite his missed dinner being the catalyst of this entire disaster, he hadn't so much as thought about food since being taken. The very idea of eating anything, at the moment, made him actively queasy.

"Eat. And let me know if you need more, later."

He gave Mason's hand a careful squeeze and nodded. The sooner this night ended, the better.

'Be careful. I love you.'

Xavier/Ramsay: At this point, nothing Haine said had any chance of not sounding completely deplorable. His only saving grace was the knowledge he possessed of this facility, and that grace was very, very tenuous.

“Naturally,” Xavier said through gritted teeth, brushing Haine’s mind again for the mental image. When he had it, he turned to Ramsay.

“John, gun.”

Ramsay tossed one of the guns to him.

“Thank you. I’m going to leave him here. If he moves, shoot him in the leg.”

The witch smirked at Haine. “With pleasure.”

“Behave now, little soldier,” Xavier said before clasping his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie could understand, and had they taken longer to reach him, would have insisted for the sake of Charles' own blood sugar, but with refusal, he finished off what remained and crumpled the wrapper. Had half a mind to flick it at the doctor, but instead tossed it in the nearby wastebin. Just didn't have it in him.

Being transported by a fellow demon didn't feel like anything, and no sooner did the reappear did Mason's fist connect with the nearest breakable jaw. Just like the last fucking facility. More children for the school, yet more to bleed for.

"I wanna see this place burn."

Xavier: "It will," Xavier said matter-of-factly, leaving the guard for his brother to incapacitate and turning his attention to the monitors. "I only ask that you leave Haine to me."

There were a few guards in the parking garage where they'd entered but the rest seemed to be concentrated outside the machine room Xavier was still holding closed with his telekinesis. It was a drain on his power but he had no choice. The diversion it offered would shelter them while they grabbed the children, and they needed it.

Gathering eighteen children from several different areas was no small task.

"Only nurses to worry about, like the bastard said. They're likely all human, they won't put up a fight when they see a gun. How are we doing this?"

Mason: "S'not my choice." Or Haine would have already been in pieces. "Charles is the one broken in the other room. He's gettin' final say."

Kill them was the knee jerk response. Employed of their own free will, they had no right to their lives after what they had done to these children. They were witnesses. They were liabilities.

"Lock em all in one of the rooms. Gonna take the children in batches t'the nurses' station." Leaving the potentially volatile for last.

Xavier: Xavier didn’t argue the point. They had more pressing matters at hand and besides, he intended to make a damn good case for eliminating that wretch.

He nodded. “Very well.” He looked around at all the different controls and then down at the guard. The likelihood of him recovering from the blow Mason had given him and sounding some sort of alarm was slim, but it wasn’t zero.

The demon reached down to disarm him and grabbed him by the collar. Best stow him in a broom closet, just in case.

“Right then, I’m off to dispose of this and gather the nurses.”

Mason: Mason watched the screens, playing out both scenarios, knowing what Charles would want didn't make it easier to swallow, but he would, for as long as he could choke it.

And then he looked in one of those rooms, reminded of the hours he had spent in secret with his daughter until rescue.

"I'm off t'the children."

Xavier: Xavier nodded again. “I’m a thought away if something happens.”

With the guards otherwise occupied, he was able to drag the guard out of the security room and down the hall to the nearest utility closet with ease. It was slightly larger than expected, and as good a place as any to keep the nurses once he rounded them all up.

Xavier left the door open just a crack and got to hunting.

The first nurse he came upon would be met with a black stare and a gun pointed directly at their head.

“Make a single sound or a single move and you’re dead,” he said, offering a chillingly pleasant smile.

Mason: There had to be a modicum of caution when taking to the hallway. Security wasn't going to just stand in front of the blocked door, staring blankly until something new happened. More than likely they would begin spreading out, looking elsewhere, regardless of the alarm. They had made it as far as they had with little fanfare; trusting their system was all but nonexistent.

There was going to be that one nurse, Mason ventured to guess, that would scream before his brother had a chance to speak. Until then, he was down the hallway and to the left, towards the minds of the eldest captives.

Charles: The only nurse brave enough to venture out of hiding after the tech had raised the alarm froze in her tracks. She obeyed. A deer in headlights.

The facility's eldest resident (aside from Charles) was a mere twenty-two years old. Like Cynthia had been, the young woman was strapped securely into a straight jacket. Her room was painted the same cheerful mint that Charles' had been, but there was no furniture beyond the cot she laid on.

Xavier: The nurse was definitely human. Only humans believed that the scariest thing they could possibly encounter was a person with a loaded weapon. They had no idea of the danger that lurked right beneath their noses, often hunting them and picking them off and manipulating them at will.

Well. This one did now. And for her bad luck, the danger had a loaded weapon, too.

Xavier quickly closed the gap between them and moved to stand behind the nurse, pressing the gun's muzzle right against the back of her head and using it to get that ridiculous blocker off. Such a nuisance.

"There's a utility closet near the security room. Walk."

Getting her there under her own power was quicker and would save him energy, and it also gave him the opportunity to search her mind for the number and location of the other nurses.

Mason: Mason peered through the door. Debated on breaking the door entirely or spending energy to teleport. To lean on the former, it was imperative not to frighten her.

He realized only years too late the toll of lessening contracts had taken on his stamina. Add to the irritating reality that being split into two had successfully tethered weights to his feet. He would sooner blame these factors than any whisper of blame on his husband. A benevolent soul determined to keep bloodshed to a meager drip. That was fine. He would walk around the obstacles for as wide as he was able.

“Hey!” Could she even hear? Was she tranquilized? His mind reached out to hers, light as a feather. Remembering Leslie and what retaliation felt like, he had no desire for a repeat. Knowing her vague age wasn’t the same as opening the door to her mind; he had only seen through a window.

“My name is,” she would know eventually, given the circumstances, “Mason. I’m here to get you out.”

Charles: The nurse was trembling, grey curls bouncing as she hurried to obey the command. Her blocker clanged against the tile, and she prayed that the rest of the staff still had theirs firmly in place. They were huddled together in the lab, waiting for the guards to give the all-clear.

The young woman sat up in her bed with some degree of difficulty. That was promising, but she wasn't going to go leaping for joy, just yet. Following the same line of thought as Mason, she was willing to give a little.

"Evelyn. You the dude who was in my head, earlier?"

She didn't think so. He'd been kinda... soothing. Maybe they were working together.

Xavier: Three nurses. Three lab techs. One doctor. One guard. All hiding in the lab, waiting for safety that would never come.

Like fish in a barrel.

“Pathetic,” the demon said with disgust, knocking the nurse in the back of the head with the butt of the gun and letting her join the security guard among the brooms and mops.

Xavier closed the door behind himself and made for the lab, having used his time in the nurse’s head to familiarize himself with the layout of this part of the facility. He couldn’t afford a single unnecessary teleportation.

His energy was better spent using his telekinesis to undo the lock on the door to the lab and freezing everyone inside in place as he entered with his weapon drawn.

Mason: Of course, Charles had already swept the area. At least she was receptive. Had the children been tranquilized this would have gone a lot slower but possibly smoother. Still more children to gather, but an auspicious start to his endeavor.

He shared his findings with Xavier, taking what was offered in his brother’s mind, only to give in turn to his husband. No telepath was going to be left in the dark.

“That was my partner. There are five of us.” Lawrence remained uncounted so long as they remained whole. “I need you to face the corner. I’m gonna break the door.”

To break, a combination of raw strength and telekinesis as he backed away and kicked just beneath the doorknob.

Charles: The room's inhabitants didn't have time to properly jump at being startled, before they were locked into place by an unseen force. The guard, at least, had the presence of mind to call out to his fellows despite his terror. He had no clue whether they were within earshot.

"The main lab has been breached! The intruder is alone, but armed!"

"Bet." Evelyn nodded, assuming he meant mission partner. They sounded like some sort of paramilitary group, like those X-dudes. She slid clumsily from the bed and moved to stand in the corner, facing the wall. She could not wait to get out of that fucking straight jacket.

From his place on the couch, Charles shared the information with Leslie and Ramsay.

"Mason's reached the first kid. He's getting her out, now."

Xavier: “Just like the nurse,” Xavier sighed, telekinetically locking the door again and setting the gun aside. “You humans see a weapon and immediately assume it to be the most viable threat.”

Xavier smiled as he approached the guard, fixing him with that empty black stare. “There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio,” he said in an intimate whisper, undoing the clasp keeping the guard’s helmet on so he could remove it and toss it aside. He’d be taking the guard’s weapon as well.

“Warning them won’t help. You don’t even know what you’re warning them against. If you did, you’d know that none of you are making it out of this room.”

Mason: 'Zav,' Mason's voice came sharply. That wasn't their decision to make, and his warning doubled as a reminder of their reason for being here across the facility. Any moment Charles could be listening in, and that was the last thing he needed to hear.

But his expression had to remain neutral as the door squealed back on its hinges, slapping into the wall as it broke.

"So, what can ya do?" Just to get Evelyn talking as he stood center of the room, hands open to unfasten her straight jacket. Cynthia hadn't been a violent girl. Couldn't even speak. Doctors in these organizations seemed to accept any excuse to restrain the strange and unusual.

"I'm goin' t'the next room. Gonna gather everyone up in here so no one gets lost. Ya gonna stay put?"

Charles: Terrifying. But the guard was made of sterner stuff than Haine. He met that fathomless black gaze with a set jaw. If he was gonna die, he wasn't gonna blubber about it. The same could not be said for the rest of the room's inhabitants at the promise in the man's words.

"Thank you."

Evelyn could do a lot, but figured she'd keep it short and sweet.

"I can stop a man's heart."

And planned to do a lot of that, now that her hands were free. She rolled stiff shoulders and flexed numb fingers. She'd lost track of how many days she'd been trapped in this hellhole, but she would make them pay for every one of them.

"What?"

This man was her savior, technically. She owed him a debt. But she'd been caged for long enough, thanks.

"No. No, I can't. I appreciate you letting me out, and everything, but they-- they have my kid sister. I'm going to get her and we're getting the fuck out of here."

Xavier: Although Xavier’s jaw twitched, the predatory smile never left his face. For a moment he’d forgotten that he wasn’t entirely alone but no matter. This guard didn’t know that there was a hand staying his elsewhere in this godforsaken building.

“Such a good little soldier,” he mocked before giving this man the same gift his brother had given the guard in the security room: a knockout punch and a broken jaw to go with it.

Only then did his focus shift to the rest of the room, and it was immediately obvious that this was not simply a lab. It was something far, far worse.

He stalked past the morgue shelves to the nearest nurse and had to fight to merely take the blocker off and not throw them against the wall.

Mason Great. That was just what this situation needed. His tone had been intentionally confident and full voice, but was quickly deepening into something non-negotiable.

“I picked ya first for a reason.” Let’s go with that. “There are younger people here and they’re gonna need ya t’keep em calm. Runnin’ around drawin’ attention t’yourself is a sure way t’fuck this up for everyone. Y'all are gonna be taken t’a school t’be looked after."

Maybe a compromise, because he didn't have time for this shit, and locking her back up was a surefire way to lose her trust forever.

"If ya come with me, ya actually have t'stick with me. Ya gonna do that or play Miss Independent?"

Charles: That particular nurse was the youngest of the lot, silently crying as he was approached. Like the guard, he held his tongue, bracing to be punched as well. It had looked like it hurt like Hell.

Evelyn sniffed. She could fight him. Slow his heart long enough to put him on his ass and make a run for it.  But it seemed a pretty fucked up way to show gratitude. And who knew if that telepath of his would stop her. Or anyone else on his little squad, for that matter. Cooperation was the cleanest way to get to her sister. She nodded.

"Fine."

Xavier: The punch wouldn’t come. After removing the blocker, Xavier simply moved on to the other two nurses and took theirs as well.

The doctor would be last but as Xavier moved about the lab and took in his surroundings, a sickening feeling of curiosity churned his gut. A feeling that had begun at the morgue shelves but wouldn’t stop there, that wouldn’t let him be until he saw for himself just what these people had been doing with those eighteen souls his brother was in the process of rescuing.

His eyes flicked back to piercing, icy blue as he walked past the still-frozen staff and deeper into the lab.

Mason/Leslie: Mason crackled his neck, but it was not in Evelyn’s regard. Chalk it up to exhaustion, but it was a single image from Xavier that had caused it. His brother wasn’t the only one hanging on by a thread.

“Great. Wonderful.” He gestured to the door. One finger on the figurative trigger to snatch her should she run. Trust in a stranger could only go so far. The next immediate door was peered through. The same brush of mind. The same greeting, same warning, same kick. This one told to stay put as well. Maybe they could gather in this room, or he was going to have an annoyance on his hands.

"How are you feeling?" Leslie asked. By now the witch was pacing. Not sensible for his energy, but never one to remain still unless meditating.

Charles: Evelyn followed behind as agreed, peering into the next room to see if it housed her sister. Not finding her, she was ready to move on. Not cruelty. Tunnel vision. Her family first, always. At least this young man was willing to stay behind and help any children sent his way. And if the opportunity arose to pierce a nurse or guard with his wicked spines, he'd take it.

Charles offered a small smile. He felt like boiled shit. He could barely see out of his left eye and he was certain that it has begun to darken to an ugly violet hue.

"Just fine. Do either of you have a mobile? They took mine and did goodness knows what with it. I doubt anyone at home is ready for a sudden influx of kids."

In this way, at least, he could be useful.

Xavier: Xavier had only taken a couple of steps before he paused.

Of the eighteen people that needed to be saved, Mason had only gathered two and would soon secure a third. That left fifteen left to gather and there was no telling how long and how complex it would be to free them. It was vital work, and a distraction would spell disaster for his brother. Xavier couldn’t have that.

He closed the door to their connection and continued walking.

Within minutes, he would walk into the cold storage room and wish he hadn’t. Within minutes, he would realize that this had been Hell long, long before two demons walked through the front door.

Xavier Atlas stood in the middle of a sea of bodies, a sea of children, breath steaming in the artificial cold and clouding his vision as his eyes fixed on a cadaver that was so, so small, too small to be here. They were all too small to be here, to be in a freezer, to be in pieces.

A thread snapped.

He would return to the main room in a flurry of black-eyed demonic rage and threw the doctor against the morgue shelves with all his might.

Without the blocker, it was pathetically easy to see into the doctor’s mind, to see what he’d done. What they’d all done.

Keeping the doctor pinned, Xavier closed his hand into a fist and used his telekinesis to tear him apart from the inside out.

Mason/Leslie/Lawrence: Mason held his hand up to Evelyn as he spoke to the young man. This was exactly what he had hoped from the first door. At least it hadn’t taken long to find a caregiver. She could look, of course, but she was watched from his peripheral.

Once the boy understood what was required of him, he moved on to the next door. Now it was about funneling everyone back to the boy’s room.

And wondering why the fuck Xavier had severed the connection. That was only going to push his brother back in. Not only out of spite but out of consideration of the demon’s sanity. Something had been off since the moment he had carved into his chest.

Fucking Hell, Charles didn’t know about that.

“Zav.” A thought said aloud, his steps slowing as he climbed back into that mind, only to cease all movement.

His neck popped again. Eyes reddening. This time, there would be no argument as a third hand appeared from Mason’s wrist, tearing upwards out of his chest, pressed hard on his stomach as the other half of his soul pulled forth, disconnecting from his very core. Lighter hair, soft hazel eyes, gray jeans and darker gray shirt. A sight for any child to behold as these two men stumbled against separate walls.

The new addition was quicker to recover. Rolling his shoulders as he started off towards the morgue.

“I’m gonna play.”

And there was nothing Mason could do to stop him. It was better this way. He couldn’t be blamed for Lawrence’s actions.

He forced his attention back to the children, still gulping in air as he kicked in the next door. The younger the children, the gentler his voice.

Lawrence rounded the corner, pushed through the door, past Xavier, and past the writhing doctor. Straight to the crying nurse. Those tears still flowing, he cupped his face in both hands.

“Why are you doing that?”

By then, Leslie had already tossed Charles his phone. Plenty of battery left for whatever he intended.

Charles: Evelyn and the boy had not had any contact, up to this moment. But the identical, wide-eyed looks they exchanged would have been comical in any other context. A person had come out of Mason's chest. A man-sized Chestburster had just waltzed down the hall like he did this every day. The boy was too stunned to speak, but Evelyn recovered more quickly. She jogged to catch up to Mason, still sticking to him like a shadow.

"Who the fuck was that? And how did he get... inside you?"

Charles had quickly thanked Leslie and punched in the relevant number before he realized. The phone had plenty of battery life, yes, but no service. Damnit. They were underground. He offered the phone back to his friend and turned to Haine's still-sniveling form with a scowl.

"You didn't think to let us know that our mobile phones don't work, here?"

"You never asked. None of the residents here have phones, anyway. The landlines work."

The telepath rolled his eyes in irritation, but looked between Ramsay and Leslie.

"Would one of you mind--"

The spike of fear had him straightening, despite the pain. He inhaled softly as he sought the source. A second doctor, pinned to the wall and panicking like a trapped rabbit. He had no time to react before the life was snatched painfully away.

Charles gasped as he lived it second-hand, ribs screaming in protest. He'd only been in the mind of a dying man once before.

At least it was quick, this time. If no less painful.

Charles reached out to Mason in alarm only to find Lawrence out and on the hunt, as well. He swiftly severed the connection, face flushed and pulse racing.

Absolutely not.

Whatever destruction the two of them thought they would unleash, they'd be disappointed. It was the work of an instant for Charles to reach into the minds of the unblocked staff and send them all into a deep sleep. Including the young, weeping nurse.

If they died, they'd do so unaware.

"Xavier's killed one of the staff. I need that phone. Quickly."

Xavier/Ramsay: "Fuck me," Ramsay hissed, grabbing the landline off of Haine's desk and handing it to Charles. He should be with Xavier, dammit, not in here.

His presence wouldn't have done a damn thing to stop the demon from killing whoever the fuck he'd killed--and Ramsay couldn't say he would've tried to--but at least Xavier wouldn't be fucking alone.

Xavier only became aware of Lawrence's presence after the doctor's mangled bloody form collapsed to the floor. He turned to do the same to the lab techs, only to have his catharsis snatched away by an invisible force that knocked them and all the nurses out in the same moment.

He didn't have to guess what had caused it or why; he already knew, and drove his fist into the wall in frustration.

It would be short-lived, however, as he remembered their most present and numerous threat.

Turning to Lawrence, Xavier reached into his pocket and held up the braid of enchanted silk. Of the seven initial strands, three remained. More than enough.

"Guards," he said, pulling a strand from the braid and holding his hand out for Lawrence's wrist in invitation.

Mason/Leslie/Lawrence: It was a lot to explain in a setting such as this, and perhaps tomorrow he would find their reactions entertaining. Right now, Mason could only manage to shake his head.

“He’s my -“ The word tasted like metal in his mouth, “-brother. Ya can hear ‘bout it later.”

Another child was ushered to the boy; he’d already forgotten his name. He would memorize them all tomorrow, along with anything else important, before or after keeping his word.

“Charles?” Leslie tucked his phone away and took to the professor’s side. Concern etched his features as he watched the horror unfold in his eyes.

Oh. Between the two demons, he thought that Mason would have been the cold-blooded killer. He was still processing when Ramsay handed over the landline.

“Why did he… ?”

Lawrence watched as his little toy slumped in his hands. Not nearly as fun to play with something this quiet. This pretty face wouldn’t contort into anything interesting.

The body was allowed to crumple naturally as he got back to his feet. He wasn’t finished with him. He couldn’t sleep forever. The fucking audacity to cry wouldn’t remain unpunished.

The delicate strands were given a cursory glance.

“Don’t waste a good spell. Put it back.”

Xavier was given a strong pat on his back and gently pulled towards the door. Time was wasted and there were guards to dispose of.

“I never get to have fun.”

Hearing the commotion of disturbed, distracted, and disconcerted guards, Lawrence began rolling his wrist. The more he rolled, the larger the sulfuric blue flame grew. Intent on throwing the fireball the moment they turned the corner.

Charles: She wanted to hear about it now, but Mason was right. Her sister and the rest of the kids were more pressing. She followed dutifully behind.

"Sure. I'm holding you to it."

Charles was shaking with a nauseating combination of pain, anger, and exhaustion. His partially-numbed leg helped to clear some of the fog, at least. He'd spared the staff, for the moment, but the guards were beyond his reach.

Xavier and Lawrence weren't.

The telepath very seriously considered putting them both down as well. He'd save ruining family bonds as a last resort.

He looked up at Ramsay as he dialed the memorized number.

"Listen, if you need to go to him, go. You'd be better served talking him back to himself than defending me from bloody office furniture."

When the demon in question was well away from the lab, a nurse would awaken and slip into the hall. She'd scurry, glassy-eyed, to the nearest supply room.

His attention turned to Haine as the line began to ring.

"You are going to show me every scrap of information you have on this place and any others."

The guards were indeed still struggling to enter an empty room. If Lawrence's fireball struck true, the remaining five guards would turn their reclaimed weapons on the pair without hesitation.

Xavier/Ramsay: There was no talking Xavier back into himself. Ramsay knew this. It was a miracle Xavier had held out this long and now that he'd started, he wouldn't stop unless he was good and ready or ran out of people to kill, whichever came first.

"I'm not going anywhere." Not wanting to take his frustration out on Charles, Ramsay opted to stomp on one of Haine's ankles instead.

"He asked me to stay put and keep a gun on this shitbag and your bloody husband asked me to stay with you."

Xavier nodded once and put the silk back in his pocket, letting himself be pulled along as docilely as anything despite the murder in his eyes and the fresh blood on his suit.

"You will tonight," he said softly, breathing deeply and centering his focus on himself for just a moment. He didn't put it past his brother to try to stop him and if he did, Mason would be met with a brick wall of resistance.

As would the guards.

The second Lawrence released his spell, the demon would be moving to plant himself in front of him in case any of the guards who remained standing were quick enough on the trigger to take a shot. They could take them, but regardless of whether they hit their mark, the demon wouldn't stop coming toward them.

Even the quickest one would only have a breath's worth of time before Xavier let the doors burst open and divested them once again of their weapons. This time he wouldn't push them back. He wouldn't let them fall back of their own accord, either.

He did not intend to let go of his catharsis. Whichever one was nearest would be pinned and given the same treatment the doctor had been given.

Mason/Leslie/Lawrence: Leslie turned to the door, tempted to make use of himself in some way. Ramsay was willing to stay, and if Charles allowed him to heal, he would be more inclined, but the commotion from those halls could be heard from their little sanctuary. There had to be something he could do.

The very moment Mason considered calling Xavier back was the same moment that tiny, lifeless body flashed in his vision. He could picture any of his children on that cold steel table. From Lucy to Rory to any of the children gathering in the room down the hall. To the iridescent sniffling child now in his arms. Charles must have seen. Their connection was all too quiet.

He just needed to focus on what was in front of him. Now that Charles was safe, this was the priority.

How much his life had changed.

Lawrence’s daughter was blessedly free of supernatural influence, but it was her little face he had seen, and it was all he could see. Lifeless children were all the motivation needed to stand behind Xavier’s frame. Waiting for the clack of guns he knew would follow the demon’s wake. Emerging with a second flight of fire flowing like waves toward the screams.

"Tell me where you want me," Leslie begged. "Charles? Do you want me out there?"

Charles: His mind was working overtime, rifling through the doctor's thoughts while he urged the nurse to move faster. The line was ringing and Haine was screaming and he felt his careful control waver. His temper flashed white hot for an instant.

"You are not helping!" he snapped at Ramsay before inhaling deeply. His cracked ribs wailed and he very nearly flung the receiver across the room. But Charles could not afford to let himself slip. It was not a luxury that his position allowed. Instead, he took quick, shallow breaths and addressed Ramsay calmly.

"You will leave this office if you can't keep a leash on your anger. It isn't useful to anyone present. I need him alert, not blinded by pain, thank you."

He looked to Leslie, deliberately blocking out the chaos nearby.

"I'd rather you didn't. However, if you think that you'd be more useful out there, I'm not going to stop you. But I implore you to be careful. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you, because of me."

Jean's worried voice on the line was a balm to his nerves and just the boost of strength he needed to push forward. He ran through an abridged version of the night's events in a tone that left no room for interruption.

"Let the children sleep, but wake the team. Have Hank prepare the infirmary, and I need you to prep as many rooms as you can. You can reach me at this number when everyone is ready, but I can't be tied to the phone, just now. Of course... I'm fine... Thank you... I'll be in touch."

Xavier/Ramsay: The witch said nothing, merely set his jaw and stared at the wall. Haine would be blinded by a lot more than pain if Ramsay had his way. Motherfucker deserved it.

Whatever Xavier had planned for him, Ramsay wouldn’t lift a finger to stop it. And the demon would have something planned, reliable as sunrise.

Two of the shots had found their target but Xavier couldn’t feel them. Rage and adrenaline numbed him, deafened him, but unfortunately didn’t blind him.

He watched the guard’s face contort in pain but all he could see was the child in the freezer. He thought of that child and all he could see was a newborn Devlin laying on snowy white furs in a willow branch basket. Just a baby. His baby.

He could scarcely see the flames licking at the guards but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if they were already burning and dying and screaming in pain.

Xavier would grab another guard, then another, and he would use his power to twist their insides, to break their bones, to tear at their skin until they were nothing but sacks of flaming pulp.

Mason/Leslie/Lawrence: Leslie flinched at Charles’ sharp comments. He felt the most useless in this building. A feeling he would not agree with come tomorrow, but this was now, and his eyes were to the floor.

“Have me gather whatever you need. Help Mason. Help you. Just… something.” Being a bodyguard would feel more rewarding had anyone been aware of the change of rooms. He didn’t pine for battle, but he pined for value.

At last, with their initial burden dispatched Lawrence headed back to the security room. Determined to find where the last of the monsters had fled. Those nurses, techs, what remained of the guards, and the few left hidden in the storage room. This building was in desperate need of cleansing. The bodies in the morgue deserved to be with their families, if their families cared at all. They deserved to be recognized and buried with fresh, beautiful flowers. They deserved better than this Hell. They deserved the retribution.

The two youngest mutants remained. This would have been a far more arduous task had Mason been human. The little iridescent child refused to leave his arms, and there she would remain.

'Almost finished here,' Mason offered, allowing Charles to see the gathering of children being tended to by those eldest in the group.

Charles: He reached out to take his friend's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was the only comfort he could offer, at the moment.

"You can help me gather the files. Nothing is backed up digitally, so there's going to be quite a lot."

If Lawrence was looking for movement, he wouldn't find much. The handful of guards still in the garage had not entered the building. The staff continued their forced slumber.

And the sole remaining nurse had already reached Haine's office door.

"Do not shoot," Charles commanded, just before her knock sounded.

"Leslie, be a dear and let her in."

When allowed, the glassy-eyed nurse would enter pushing a wheelchair loaded with medical supplies. The only person willing and able to help him at the moment, Charles loved much too deeply. He wouldn't have Leslie passing out on his behalf. He'd tend to himself.

In unnatural silence, the nurse handed Charles a small cardboard box and knelt to tend to his leg.

He pulled a rubber tourniquet from the box and tied it to his left arm with practiced ease. Equally as swift was his ability to fill a syringe from a vile of clear liquid and find his median cubital vein on the first try. It took only a few moments for the glassiness in his own eyes to clear completely.

He wordlessly acknowledged Mason's update and looked to Leslie.

"When she's finished with the splint, we can go."

He still waited on a call, but it was sure to come before he was done.

Xavier: He wouldn’t stop. Not until the last guard fell to the floor and joined his fellows and until those who had been left in the barricaded room were splashed like so much red paint across their precious machine.

Guards remained in the garage, nurses and techs in the lab, but Xavier didn’t care about them.

As he crossed the lake of blood he’d created in the hallway, his only thought was the little toy soldier cowering in his office.

“HAINE!” Xavier shouted as he started toward the office at a determined clip. There was no one to hear him and no one to stop him.

“HAINE!” The major threat was dead. Only the person who had commanded it remained to be dealt with.

“HAINE!”

The door to the office would practically blast open a mere moment before Xavier entered the room. In his right hand, a bloody knife. In his left, all the strength he had left to pick Haine up and pin him to the wall by his throat.

“How many?! HOW MANY?!”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie squeezed the offered hand. Would have kissed his knuckles had this been any other day, any other circumstance. Certainly not with Mason in striking distance.

Charles’ command wrinkled his brow, and still the witch jumped at the sudden knock. Half a mind to throw a spell at the door when asked to open it. What walked through only served to confound.

“Why won’t you let me take care of you?” was only a half-bitten question. Too tired to argue this late in the night. This stubborn sweetheart of a man refused to be a burden to such an extreme level. It was a wonder he allowed Leslie to touch him at all.

With an RN in his grasp, he didn’t think to question why Charles was so skilled with a tourniquet. Such wandering thoughts never crossed his mind. He and possibly Ramsay were the only drug abusers in this facility, as far as he was aware. As far as he was willing to believe.

“There’s a few ugly beasts.” Back where they started. Lawrence’s pretty little nurse would have to wait. Something to savor like the last square of chocolate after a meal.

The security room was abandoned. He ignored the clatter deep in the facility, heading toward the exit.

“Where are we go –“

The sudden explosion of broken wood, hinges, and metal slamming hard against the wall bordered on deafening. The witch ducked to a runaway chunk of rubber, and before he realized what he was doing, made a grab for the demon’s forearm.

“Nonono! Please just wait!”

Mason made a head count, tried to offer the child in his arms to the young male leader of the group.

"I'll be right back. Okay, love? I have to gather everyone else and we're leavin'. I promise."

She almost didn't take no for an answer. Luckily one of the preteens was making a show of her power as a means of distraction for some of the unsettled lot.

To return to Charles or to chase Lawrence...

Charles: "Absolutely any other time, Les. Do you truly believe I want to spend the next three months in a cast?"

Longer, if he hadn't misjudged the severity of the break.

"After you've had a decent meal, and at least eight hours of sleep, I will be more than happy to let you patch me up. You have my word."

Charles raised his arms instinctively at the explosion, temporarily losing his hold on the nurse. For her part, she did not run, cowering where she knelt, instead.

It took only a moment for Charles to recover, reaching out with more force than was probably necessary for Xavier's mind and dragging him down. He'd collapse into a sleep just as deep as the medical staff.

Haine fell with him, blacking out as his shattered leg made impact with the ground.

"Fuck!" Charles' shout was muffled by the hands he dragged down his face. "Fuck me."

Xavier/Ramsay: After the sudden appearance of the nurse he should’ve expected something else would hit the fan, but he didn’t. The sudden and explosive opening of the door caught Ramsay just as off guard as it did Leslie and Charles, and just like Leslie and Charles, he had to duck to protect himself from getting hit by any shrapnel.

He registered Xavier’s appearance but had no time for shock before he was scrambling to help Leslie attempt to stay the demon’s hand.

“X! Don’t!”

Xavier couldn’t feel Leslie or Ramsay any more than he could feel the holes in his torso. His entire field of vision was red and at its center, the detestable face of the man that in this moment, Xavier despised above all else.

“How many more babies are in those drawers, Haine?! How many of them begged you for mercy the way you DARED to beg me?! HOW—?!”

The demon was in no fit state to fight Charles or his entry into his mind. Quite apart from the fact that he’d stretched his powers to their absolute limit, he was injured, and the blood loss that had occurred as a result had weakened him too much to be able to resist even a small push.

Charles had given something much larger, and absent any resistance, Xavier went limp.

Ramsay managed to catch him before he hit the floor. His friend looked an unholy mess, but it wasn’t until Ramsay had him in his arms that he realized that as well as being covered in blood, Xavier was bleeding.

“X? X!”

Ramsay laid the demon down carefully and tore open his suit jacket, vest, and shirt to reveal two bullet wounds in his torso.

“Get that bloody fucking nurse over here!”

Mason/Leslie: ‘Baby, ya alright?’ Because that was all that mattered. Not the scent of blood or sulfur. Only the sound of his husband’s voice in his head, and the suffering at his back.

Mason made it to the end of the hall, waiting for Charles’ response, waiting for acknowledgment before turning in Lawrence’s direction. This had to be his choice because he knew himself. Knew what Lawrence would do because it was what he would do, and Lawrence would have no trouble looking his wife in the eyes despite the blood soaking his hands. His life was a replayed record.

“Make a promise like that,” Leslie panted, staring down at Xavier’s wounded body, “I’m holding you do it. But, uh, let’s make it two days.” Because he was getting on his knees, holding his hands over the wounds and closing his eyes. Could a demon die this way? He didn’t have a clue. Wouldn’t have believed a bullet would cause such injury had he not seen the dark blood with his own two eyes.

This was living tissue; he could work with this. Felt each heartbeat as his own as he whispered his prayers in hurried Irish Gaelic. His liver had been nicked. A through-and-through inches from his heart. It was a wonder he had lasted this long, or the strength to lift his arm, much less Haine off the floor.

“Glaonna fola chun fola," he whispered. “Glaoim amach agus glaoim isteach.” His pocketknife was opened, stabbing once into his palm, allowing the blood to drip into Xavier’s wound. A thick lavender scent filled the room as the first wound closed.

Charles: 'Fine. I'm fine.'

He briefly debated beckoning Mason to his brother's aid. Guilt warred with his anger and hurt. But it appeared that the decision would be made for him.

Despite Charles' every attempt to protect him, Leslie would spend himself to close Xavier's wounds. Good, that he'd left the reserves until now.

Charles shared a concise version of what had gone down with the demon's brother and urged him on to his task. Things were under control, here. More-or-less.

Ramsay: Ramsay bit back the urge to stop Leslie. Even though the man still looked like he was about to keel over, he was helping Xavier, and Ramsay hadn't been raised to throw a blessing back in someone's face when it had been offered. He'd been taught to shut up and be grateful so that was precisely what he did.

"Thanks, mate," he said with a nod, patting Leslie on the shoulder once he'd finished with the first bullet wound. "I'll pay back the favor. I'm buyin' you and everyone you know a steak dinner with all the bells and whistles when we get the fuck out of here."

Ramsay shifted positions so Xavier was cradled between his legs with his back to Ramsay's chest and held him while Leslie did his work. It was a move that gave away the intimacy and closeness between them more than words ever could.

Mason/Lawrence: As much as Mason desired to wall his mind, he would not. The desperate need to keep his husband close in any measure outweighed what he was about to witness. Charles did not have to look. A kind of fence around his point of view, perhaps, would prevent Charles from seeing the worst of his human self.

Lawrence had done exactly as expected. Less carnage than Xavier would have enjoyed, but Mason knew the sound of mayhem like an unforgotten melody.

He had managed to get in close to the enemy. Scrambling into the entryway sobbing for help, hands raised and on his knees. Someone must have taken pity, believing those tearful panicked eyes. Not a tactic Mason had ever used, but Lawrence was not an exact copy. According to a djinn, he was meant to be an improvement. A clean slate. Popplewell’s proud design. All it had taken was one chest-aching scream powered by every ounce of rage to break the small crowd. Lawrence had no control over his telekinesis but he knew its triggers.

A knife had been lodged into his calf muscle. The explosion of power had sent one of the guards straight up, now concussed and teetering on unconscious at his feet. One had tried for the door, third-degree burns on his arms and hands, clothes charred and unconscious. The others remained unseen as Mason approached. There, slumped against the closed door, was Lawrence, body trembling with adrenaline and a gun in his lap.

Mason/Leslie/Lawrence: Had he the strength, he would have made his way back to the nurse. He was not the only one offended by such selfish tears, but this was where his vengeance ended.

Mason removed the knife without a word. A kind of softness had overtaken him as he stared at his reincarnation. Where was this hatred a lifetime ago when Carl murdered his family? He had sighed, lifeless and defeated, and did nothing. Could do nothing. Years and years of Carl had taken its toll. But Lawrence, he wondered, might have done something different. Would have removed Carl from the equation sooner. This quiet depressed man had such potential. He hated him, and pulled him into his arms because he had to. For a moment, one might mistake his absorption for a hug.

Mason offered Charles a clear path to the young awaiting mutants.

‘Won’t be long.’ Those left alive in Lawrence’s wake were gathered and restrained.

“Uh-huh,” Leslie breathed. Watched as his blood dripped onto the remaining wound. This was not a complete unblemished heal. Just enough magic to prevent a meaningless death. This was a spell in reverse. A spell meant to expel a victim’s blood, and by reversing Leslie could barely manage to keep his eyes open.

“You know, sleepin’ next t’me makes you heal faster. Told you that… forever ago.” His words were now slurred, but his body managed to stay upright. His Verbena blood fighting the good fight with everything it had left.

“Saying you should sleep with me.” His laugh was exhausted, falling back on his ass, his back to Haine’s desk.

Charles: Under different circumstances, Charles would have been the first to fall into one of their shared laughing fits. A pity that the moment was wasted on him, now. He'd been drained of even the slightest hint of frivolity.

The awaited call had come at the tail end of the spell. Charles' leg was as secure as it could be, under the circumstances. And despite Lawrence's actions leaving the taste of bile in his mouth, he could admit that it put an end to any pressing danger.

All that remained was a mess for Charles to clean.

He looked to Leslie, mouth tight with worry at his condition, and nodded. Carrying on two conversations at once had never been a problem for the telepath.

'Mason, hold that thought. I need you here, please.'

"Les, let me borrow your mobile, again."

He let his gaze shift to Ramsay.

"Do you have enough energy to get him home?"

Ramsay: Ramsay nodded. “I have enough juice to get Leslie back to Edenton and from there I can call X’s familiar to help me get him back to Bangkok. No need to worry about them, prof. I’ve got it.” He owed Leslie and Xavier that much, if not more.

Subconsciously, he held the demon a little tighter.

“And if you ah….need help with…” Ramsay gestured vaguely at the space around them. “I can be of use. Wouldn’t be my first time dealin’ with the remains of something like this. You won’t find better hands, except your own.”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie offered his phone without questioning, but he was shaking his head.

"Not home. I gotta stay with you. Gotta heal you." Not to mention anyone else in need. His work was far from complete.

'Comin',' Mason's voice, even in their connection, was gentle.

Charles: He'd just been about to clarify his question to Ramsay when Leslie protested.

"I know that. It's why I'm going to call Tristan."

He pulled up the fisherman's contact and began punching into the landline.

"I only meant Xavier, Ramsay. But, thank you. And we'll take care of cleanup, as well."

Ramsay/Tristan: Ramsay nodded. Even if he didn’t agree and thought that Leslie would be better off resting at home, who was he to argue? Charles knew what he was about, Leslie was a grown man, and the decision was ultimately theirs.

Sometime during their stint underground, it had stopped being late night and was slowly turning to early morning. The majority of Edenton remained sleeping, oblivious of this change, but not Tristan Seger.

He was up, showered, and getting ready to head to the docks to start his workday when his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number but that in itself was nothing unusual. Nor was the earliness of the call; fishing kept odd hours.

It was probably a vendor or some other business acquaintance.

“Hello?” he greeted, putting his phone on speaker while he put his boots on. “This is Tristan.”

Mason/Leslie: "Oh." Wait a minute. Oh.

"Nononono - " Leslie sniffed as he turned to Charles, placing his hand on Charles' good knee. The phone was already ringing.

Mason was walking through the broken entryway when the witch thumped his head against the desk.

"Hey, Tristie."

Charles: Charles brought the phone to his ear, ignoring Leslie's protests and only looking up at Mason in greeting.

"Hello, Tristan. It's Charles." Were they on such familiar terms?

"Er... Charles Xavier."

Ramsay/Tristan: What a scene for Mason to walk into, was all Ramsay could think. An obliterated door, Haine passed out, his blood-stained brother sleeping in the arms of a witch, a second witch slumped and borderline delirious on the floor, and his injured husband trying to keep everything together.

Tristan’s brow furrowed. “Charles? Where are you calling me from? Was that Leslie’s voice, why’s he with you? What’s wrong?”

The more Tristan spoke, the more the confusion in his voice was replaced with concern.

Mason/Leslie: A scene that had Mason remaining in the doorway, looking from his brother to his husband and back. No one was sobbing within an inch of his life. He could see the gentle rise and fall of Xavier's chest. Anger had to be kept in reserves.

"Children are waitin'." They didn't need to be here any longer than necessary. "Ya takin' him home?"

Leslie put his finger to his lips but didn't even know what he was shushing at this point.

"I'm fine. It's all... gonna be... fine."

Charles: He loved his husband. Was grateful to him. That was the only reason the tenuous hold he had on his patience had not yet slipped. He was enduring for those children. It seemed nothing about this night could be simple. He made no acknowledgment, only pressed forward with Tristan.

"I'm calling you from California. Apart from low blood sugar, Leslie is fine. We've had a very long night, the details of which I will share when we've had a chance to rest. That's why I'm calling, actually. He needs food and sleep, and I was going to let him stay at the school. I didn't want you worry when he didn't come home."

Ramsay/Tristan: Ramsay didn’t know if Mason’s lack of a negative reaction was due to the fact that Xavier was sleeping or because there were bigger fish to fry, but either way he was glad for it.

He would’ve had some shit to say otherwise.

The witch nodded. “Just for a bit. Once he’s cleaned up I’ll ask Abel to take him back to Bangkok. He’ll be looked after.”

Absolutely nothing Charles said after ‘Leslie is fine’ was interpreted through any other lens but that of worry and quiet panic. If Leslie was actually fine, there wouldn’t be a need to tell him Leslie was fine. If it had to be stated at all then that meant something bad had happened.

But something in Charles’ tone told Tristan he wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation. Yet.

Tristan took a deep breath. “Okay. Swear to me he’s all right.”

Mason/Leslie: Mason didn't care enough to comment. If Charles thought calling family was a reasonable course of action then so be it. Something marginally less stressful than the eighteen voices in the next room.

In the meantime, he took a knee by his brother.

Ramsay could think of a hundred things to say and it would have been oil over water. Tonight was one of those nights he didn't give a single fuck. This was a bloody mess and he would be here to clean it, not his brother. This catharsis would stick to his brother like gum on his shoe.

"Have him call when he wakes." He nodded to the door. A quiet, polite get out.

Leslie could just barely hear his merman on the other line.

"I'm alllll right. I swear. He swears."

Charles: Another statement from Leslie he would have chuckled at, any other time.

"You have my word. He needs food and sleep, nothing more. He'll call as soon as he wakes."

If Leslie forgot, Charles would remind him, but he doubted it would be necessary.

With as firm a goodbye as was needed, he'd end the call.

He looked up at Mason, again. His face was pale and drained, but the set to his jaw was determined.

"I need to speak to the kids. Will you take Leslie to the school? The team is awake. Everyone knows where they're needed. Kurt will transport them and the children. He's well-rested and hasn't been popping from place to place all night. But he's never been here, before. Can you bring him? Just to room where the kids are waiting. He... doesn't need to see this place."

Ramsay/Tristan: Tristan nodded and said, “Okay. Thank you.”

No firm goodbye would be needed. He could feel the somber air about Charles through the phone and ended the call with no further questions or dallying.

He had to trust that whatever was or had happened would be explained to him eventually. Until then, he’d be going about his day feeling like a rock was lodged in his chest.

The door. As if Ramsay actually needed it.

“Roger that,” he sighed, adjusting his hold on Xavier so he could access his ring.

It had just enough left to give for one more leap and thankfully, one was all he’d need.

He completed his ritual and disappeared with Xavier without another word.

Mason/Leslie: "I will!" He didn't mean to sound ridiculous. This was his being sincere while battling low blood sugar. Without granolas and chocolate, he was going to start going through Haine's desk. Anything. Gum, for fuck's sake.

Leslie was largely ignored by the crossroad demon, now standing directly in front of the telepath.

"Of course."

The witch was busy unwrapping what looked like a Jolly Rancher when he was suddenly lifted in Mason's arms. Long legs and arms flailing and then clinging.

'Love ya, baby.' Across the United States in a blink. The witch was tossed on their bed.

"Ya know the house. Don't fuckin' die." He had more things to worry about than Leslie's health. Out the door and across the great house, following Kurt's mind. The night was not yet over. There were still unconscious bodies and carnage to wipe away.

"Don't stray from where I drop ya off n'ya can say I owe ya a favor."

Charles: Treatment that would require discussion, if and when Charles heard of it. If Leslie was able to drag himself out of bed, he'd be given food and a place to rest. They were expecting him.

Charles left Haine and the nurse in the office. The doctor was out, but he'd be shoved deeper. The nurse would follow him down.

He levered himself into the waiting wheelchair without allowing himself to think too much about it. Onward.

Passing the smouldering carnage in the hall was almost his undoing. But he bottled it up like everything else as he wheeled to where the children were being held.

Kurt nodded, taking this responsibility very seriously. He needed no favor, but he wasn't going to tell his uncle that.

"Got it."

Mason/Leslie: Leslie gave himself a five minute power nap, but the longer he delayed going to the kitchen the worse he was making this for himself. He would drag himself away, and reluctantly find someone to help with insulin.

In the meantime, Mason and Kurt appeared just outside of the mutant boy's room. An interesting and arguably handsome boy. An instant distraction.

"This is Kurt."

Invisible fingers brushed over Charles the moment his mind was felt. His angel. He assumed he would want to introduce himself.

There would be no public displays of affection in this moment, not when they had so much to do.

"Gonna clean house."

Charles: Charles was barely hanging on to his composure, but he leaned into that mental touch. Somehow, he managed to summon a smile for the children. His tone was gentle as he explained who he was and what they could expect over the next handful of days.

Mason was given a nod. Charles didn't know precisely what he was going to do, but he trusted his husband.

Kurt was rested enough to take the children in two groups, starting with the youngest. When he returned for the second group, it was with Logan, Piotr, and Ororo in tow.

Mason: At this point, Mason was running on fumes. The last of his strength would be utilized to spare Charles' team fresh nightmares and the assumption that he had caused death and destruction in Charles' name.

He would not point fingers. If they wanted someone to blame he would take their judgment, but there was still time. The last of the breathing bodies were placed in the storage room. Those no longer of this world, what could be carried, were dragged to the hallway of the massacre.

Mason flicked his hand, fingers outward, and frowned.

"Lawrence." The other half of his soul had slipped into a trance-like state, tucked away as his soul healed.

After a minute his hand ignited in blue flame, and so too did the blood and guts. A hole was forced into the ceiling. Concrete, wires, and dirt fell into the hallway, pushed aside by telekinesis. An explanation was given to Charles. Just a blip of information so as not to frighten those that remained with the noise.

Much of his strength was forced upon that telekinesis, keeping the flames contained and the smoke where he desired. Lastly, he would follow the blood trails. It had been years since he had caused blood to float. That familiar watery glide, darkened the more he gathered. Another decade under his belt, he could do more than ignite, but open his mouth and swallow it whole. A little blood magic to revitalize his energy, but not much. By now the blood was old and curdled. The taste of rust like an old friend. At least now he could return to the fire, strengthen its heat until all that remained was ash.

Charles: Nearly everyone present flinched, including the telepath himself. But he passed along Mason's reassurance.

"Cleanup."

The last of the children were taken to the school, where Jean and Hank were waiting to see to their varied needs. Charles would conduct his own examinations once they'd finished here.

 But clearing the facility was priority. When they were done, no one would step foot in this godforsaken building again.

The last of the team had arrived, and Kurt was firmly sent home to await a call. If he could spare someone trauma today, he would.

His main goal was the gathering of evidence. Every scrap of paperwork would be gathered and sorted through. No living member of staff would escape conviction. Knowledge of the facility and its horrors would be publicly exposed...

An arduous process that the team set to with grim determination.

Charles, however, was responsible for the staff themselves. After directing his people to file storage, he made his solitary way to the lab. The nurses and techs still slumbered deeply where they'd dropped. He wheeled further into the space, back toward the open door seeping cold into the main room. And there the horror gripped him.

Mason: 'Charles,' came gently. Not that cold room, not those small disfigured bodies. Lips pale and eyes forever shut.

His demon came around the corner. Fingers swept over Charles' shoulder, slow and mindful so as not to startle. He couldn't have his beloved in this room alone. At the end of his demonic magic, he had ran across the facility to stand by his side.

Charles: "I..." His voice was raw and thick with sorrow. The fiery rage that had driven Xavier was something buried deep in the professor. An unrelenting grief was all he could feel. And he trembled with it despite the dryness of his eyes.

He swallowed it all as best as he could, reaching back to take Mason's hand.

"We--" He sounded broken. Breathed. Forced himself to start again.

"We have to identify them. Find their information. Notify their families, if they have them. If they... if they were alone, I'll bury them in my family's plot."

A small, insufficient gesture, after all they'd suffered.

Mason: "We had the same idea." He saw no need to elaborate. Charles was well aware of Lawrence's presence.

"Haine wouldn't have destroyed their files. Doesn't seem the type. I'll look around here if ya look in his office."

Mason came around to face him, lowering to eye level to cup his face. Their first moment alone and still not truly to themselves.

"I... am so, so sorry, baby."

Charles: Mason would have stopped it. Had stopped those eighteen children from meeting a similar fate. Had stopped Charles from finding more, against his will.

He had no reason to apologise.

Charles was going to say just that when his eyes finally fell on the open collar of his husband's shirt. Just a hint of dried blood peeked above it. Inconsequential, really. Could have been gory residue from any number of moments during their ordeal.

But his dread was mounting. He raised a trembling hand to that shirt and tugged another button free.

He inhaled raggedly. Where the private symbol of their love and devotion had once rested, only a crusted wound remained. His breath stilled in his chest. Blue eyes snapped to meet brown.

"Why?"

Mason: The moment Charles' eyes lowered he knew what had been discovered. No attempt was made to stop his hand, but he fought against every instinct to look away. There was no shame in finding his husband, only in the pain of losing something Charles dearly loved.

Fingertips hovered over his wrist, afraid to touch and be pushed away.

"A spell I never have to -" At last his gaze lowered, presenting his hand and the jade ring. "A trackin' spell. Ya were unconscious. We couldn't find ya. I had t'sacrifice somethin'... somethin' I'd hate losin'. I'll never lose ya again."

Charles: A single grain of sand to tip the scale.

It was too much.

Sitting amongst the bodies of tortured children, bruised and broken, with hours left to push through, the single remaining strand of his control snapped.

Far from pushing Mason away, Charles gripped his husband's arms with bruising strength. Ugly, wracking sobs tore through him. Emotion he'd been bottling for hours finally spilling unimpeded down his face.

There could be no shame, here. Only his hold on Mason kept him from sliding to the cold, sterile floor.

Mason: "I'm sorry." This wasn't why he had initially apologized, but it was now. Sorry for losing him, to begin with. Sorry for the pain he had endured, the fear in his heart. He was sorry for the children at his back and the carnage he had witnessed. Of Haine's very existence.

And he was sorry for destroying something precious.

He leaned forward in his grip, pressed his forehead to his husband's, and breathed out every ounce of remaining tension. Just mindful enough to avoid his leg as he sank his weight into Charles' arms.

"I-" I haven't felt this kind of fear in years. You didn't summon me. I couldn't reach you. I thought I lost you.

"I love you."

Charles: Mason was an island in a sea of sorrow. Charles clung to him as he wept. There was no way to stem the flow, even with everything that still needed to be done. He sobbed until he was wrung dry, and the ache had begun to creep into his ribs, again. He'd need a second dose of morphine, soon.

He didn't move, even when he'd quieted to soft, rhythmic breathing.

"I love you."

Because he hadn't missed that. Hadn't missed that unnecessary apology even through his purge.

"Let's... let's get back to it. I want to go home. And I want this place burned to cinders before we do."

Mason: The demon held on for dear life. Gripped with his remaining strength. If he could curl his entire body into Charles' embrace he would. They had time to hold one another; time almost stolen from them.

Mason counted the seconds between the telepath's breath, hands cupping his jaw. The warmth in his own eyes was ignored. Tears wiped away with his shoulder.

How could he not apologize for adding to Charles' pain?

Two additional fingers emerged from the demon's hand, softly brushed over Charles' cheek and disappeared beneath Mason's skin.

"I can take ya now, baby. Ya need t'be looked at." Until he devised a suitable contract or the witch had the strength to mend. One or the other had to happen.

Charles: Mason should have already guessed what his response would be. They'd been through too much not to see the entire, nasty beast brought down. And Charles would never return once he'd gone. No. Staying until the end was the only thing for it.

He gave a gentle shake of his head, grabbing Mason's hand to offer a squeeze to him and Lawrence, both.

"I can't. Not yet. I'm as stable as I can be, at the moment. Besides, the team needs me. Without Jean here, who is going to keep hold of Haine and the others?"

He sighed.

"I'm staying. I need to search his mind, anyway."

Mason: "I know." He knew Charles would say that, but he had to offer; this was his way of saying what he wanted, though, he was at war with himself. Never wanting to leave Charles' side again, and wanting what was best.

But perhaps this was best.

"Then go back to the office." He didn't want Charles to see this much death if he could help it. "Please. I'll comb through here."

Charles: He held onto his husband for a few more moments, reluctant to be apart. But there was work to do. Too much time had passed, already.

He nodded, before he could lose his resolve.

"Alright. And I'm sorry, my love. For what you were forced to sacrifice. It wasn't fair. If I'd been there, it never would have happened. Forgive me."

Mason: "Don't do that. Don't ask... " He choked on his own words, staring down at Charles' lap to hold himself together.

He placed his hand over the tender wound.

"We'll make it again."

Charles: A nod.

"Yes."

They couldn't afford to lose any more time.

"I'll go. Let me know if you find anything. I'll get everything I can out of Haine."

Mason: Charles was putting himself back together. It was with his strength he could do the same.

"Make it as unpleasant as possible," he sighed.

But one last thing. He held Charles' face and offered a quick kiss. God, he needed that. Needed everything to turn and face those children, and then look past them to find their files.

Charles: It was almost enough to make him smile. Almost.

"I will."

He wanted the kiss to linger. Wanted to lie in bed, wrapped in Mason's arms for the next week. It would have to wait.

Charles forced himself to leave the room, resisting the urge to lash out at the sleeping staff as he made his way to Haine's office.

As promised, he dragged the doctor from sleep without the gentle consideration he'd offer anyone else. No fanfare or explanations. He merely sank into the man's mind in search of useful information.

Mason: The image, sound, and scent of Charles' sobs would live with him for the rest of his eternal life. But so would his gentle affirmation of love, his apologies, and his strength. An incomplete blend of the horrors and the blessings.

What he would have to push aside as he started with the nearest drawer. All physical copies, Charles had said to someone; he couldn't recall who anymore.

Their connection strengthened as time went on. More than a window. His presence was unmistakable as Charles dealt with his kidnapper. He would never be alone with that beast ever again.

"T'think ya might end up one of mine," Mason muttered, flipping through one of the folders he had found.

Charles/Haine: He sifted through information at lightning speed. None of the concern he typically showed was present. Not outright cruelty. Charles couldn't be anyone other than himself. But he wasn't gentle.

Indeed, there was yet another "hospital" tucked away in Idaho. He committed the location to memory, already planning to send the team out on a mission. Put an end to all of it.

He noted the location of all remaining files. And, oh! There was storage for personal items that had not yet been incinerated. Perhaps his rings were there. Or something he could pass along to those poor kids. A piece of their lives returned to them.

When he scraped away all that he needed, he ventured into the past. That old hospital, long turned to ash. This man was no telepath. His memories of that place were a blur of indistinct faces and disembodied parts. Charles pulled free from his rancid mind with a sound of disgust.

"You don't even remember them do, you? Those children? My children?"

"What?"

The experience had been dizzying. The bastard was disoriented. Charles pressed on.

"They were means to an end for you. To be tinkered with and disposed of for your 'noble goal.'"

He needed out of that room. He pushed the doctor carelessly into sleep once more and wheeled into the hall to breathe.

Mason: Mason hated this room. The sterile and unwelcoming atmosphere washed in an eyesore of fluorescent. The cold surfaces served only one purpose. But it was the stench of disinfectants and formaldehyde that threatened to distract him. Reminders of his purpose. Of those bodies just feet away, tucked safely in their drawers.

His distance was kept as Charles roamed Haine’s mind, not wanting to interrupt as he explored and foraged information. What he could use, he took, and gathered the necessary files into a forgotten paper box in one of the cabinets.

‘Think we could use him in Idaho?’

Charles: Charles shook his head. It was an unnecessary gesture, as no one was around to see it. He took off toward that storage space, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Haine.

'No. I have what we need. If I never see him again it'll be too soon.'

Mason: 'Your will be done.' He would do whatever Charles desired to the doctor, even if that included nothing at all. A portion of his catharsis had been released on Ian. The only death he could claim for himself.

True catharsis came just minutes ago in Charles' arms, but several thoughts had followed. Ones he would keep to himself until sorted.

'I'll move these children when the time comes.' He would not allow Kurt anywhere near this room, nor Ramsay or Xavier or anyone else.

Charles: 'Where? And how? Love, you're running on fumes as it is.'

Not that Charles was in a position to scold. He could sleep for forty-eight hours straight. Probably would, when they were safely in bed. The thought urged him onward.

Mason: 'When we can take em straight to a funeral home. If we can't make that work, then I'll think of somethin' else.'

There was no room in Xavier's school for these bodies, but Charles also wanted Haine exposed. That meant these children. There was a very real possibility they would have to stay here and be left to authorities. Everything was based on Charles' decisions.

'Don't worry about me. Had some blood magic like a cup of tea.'

Charles: 'No.' Perhaps more an emotional decision, than logical. But for once, perhaps that was acceptable. Those children didn't need to spend a moment longer in this place than necessary.

'Move them to a funeral home. I'll deal with the investigators. We have enough evidence. Documents, photographs... It'll have to be enough. I meant what I said, before."

Mason: 'Ya mean everything ya say, baby.'

So then, he needed to find a funeral home. There would be no rest yet.

The sun was finally rising over the quiet hills. The world, this side of the world, was finally waking up.

There was a contract here. He just need needed to close his eyes and try to iron out the details.

Charles: He made it to the storage room, hauling himself onto his good leg to reach a pristine box labeled with his name. There was an unspeakable comfort in pulling his own cardigan over the hospital clothes he wore. It was summer weight, and did nothing against the persistent chill. But it warmed him from the inside.

A small baggie tucked in beside the rest of his clothing held his rings. He shared the image of them with Mason, tinged with warmth. A small mercy that they hadn't been disposed of, yet.

Mason: A feeling Mason shared. Small mercies. Things he couldn't call miracles no matter the temptation.

'I should have made a contract for ya. But anything beyond a certain size... it attracts him. I was seconds away... Leslie stayed my hand.' He owed the witch proper gratitude.

The mark on his chest was felt.

'Either ya manipulate the mind of a funeral director or I do, but we have other legalities on our path. If I set everything in motion myself, he'll find me.'

Charles: Charles wasn't at all surprised by Leslie's usefulness, only that Mason had gone to him for help. Anything for his husband. It was a deeply moving gesture.

'I'll do it. There are officers and staff that I'll need to tweak, anyway. And information about guards that I'll have to erase entirely.'

A long night, indeed.

Mason: What would he even ask for in exchange? A soul wouldn't be noticed, but there was no soul to take. Certainly not his husband. Haine was already out the door to Perdition. He would offer to no one of Charles' staff. He would never be forgiven.

He took a breath.

'Do you want Haine to die, or rot in prison?'

Charles: He opened the baggie and slid his wedding band back where it belonged. He hadn't realized how wrong he'd felt without it.

The summoning ring was next, a perfect distraction from a difficult question.

'Don't ask me that. I'm at war with myself.'

Haine had hurt so many people. Children. But Charles didn't know if he could stomach sentencing even a monster to death.

Mason: 'I... have a contract in mind. I think it won't light any flares.'

Mason smiled to himself. 'Better?' he felt at his own ring.

Charles: 'Yes.' He rubbed at the metal, warming it up to his body temperature. No one would ever take it again, if it was in his power to stop them.

He reached out to Ororo to assist him with the rest of the boxes, grunting as he hoisted himself to his good leg, again.

'What terms? I won't risk him coming after you.'

Mason: Charles had taken such concern over a demon he had never met. Over an incident he had not witnessed. Such a little thing. Of course he would! Bronwyn would probably say, but it meant so much.

'Having Haine set everything in motion for us at the cost of years of his life.'

Charles: Charles pulled down the smallest boxes as he considered.

'Do you think he'll agree? He surely knows he'll spend the rest of his life in prison, at best.'

Mason: 'If the alternative is death, he'll shave as many years as he needs.'

Charles: Ah. Well, that was one way to go about it.

'As long as you're safe, I can live with that. What will he be exchanging?'

Mason: 'T'walk away with his life and whatever limitation ya want on his memories, I'll thread in anything ya want t'happen t'the children here, the people, legalities. It's a lot of manipulation of a lot of people.'

Charles: 'Sounds fairly heavy, love. Are you certain it won't draw attention? I can stay to alter memories. I'll manage.'

Mason: 'I don't want your stories and mine to overlap. Ya tell me exactly what ya want too have, every detail, n'I'll divvy a portion to the contract. We can make this work.'

Charles: He nodded uselessly, piling boxes onto his lap.

'My main concern is the dead guards. I'd rather they be forgotten.'

Or the mess would be even more complicated to clean. He would do what he could for their families, on his own time. They were not responsible for the guards' crimes.

'And I don't want the police looking too closely into what went on here, once we arrived. We can manage finding the children's families, if they have them. And they can stay at the school for as long as necessary.'

Mason: 'The children alive and dead are the evidence the police need to keep Haine behind bars. Either this entire place is our secret or it belongs to the public record. Even I can't bend human law that far, darlin'. The children they killed can seal his fate. If it's just photographs on paper... d'ya trust humans not to let him go?'

Charles: 'I only meant that we'd be responsible for their care, and beyond. And that the police don't need to know that Lawrence and Xavier were here.'

Never mind what they'd done here.

'They aren't going to let him go, Mason.'

He didn't believe so little of them. And, frankly, he wouldn't allow it, if they tried.

Mason: He hated that this was a conversation they were having while Charles was so injured. He hated the mess this had become and the unfortunate lack of discretion they could have. Moments like this the modern age suffocated his mind quite utterly.

For Haine to escape with his life pressed dangerously against contractual loopholes. To know he would not be killed either way rendered the arrangement ineffectual.

To deepen the contract with memory alteration of not only Haine but several dozen mortals, not to mention Charles' health.

But the witch could mend his injuries.

Keeping the plausible loophole behind his back, Mason offered the second draft of the contract for Charles to consider.

'Are you saying you want the police to allow the school to foster these children? That you volunteer the school to bury the bodies of those lost? They will still want to conduct their own autopsies.'

Charles: 'Yes and... yes.'

Which was to say, he'd personally handle the funeral arrangements, as necessary. He couldn't imagine that every person that had been held here was utterly without family. He'd do what he could, for them. And see to those who'd been alone in the world, himself.

'I can live with that. Better for them to have some concrete evidence on hand. Better than having to tinker with them on everything.'

Mason: Mason returned to his husband's side, without warning or permission, pulled him into a kiss. There was no tingle, no warmth of magic. This was not a contract. This was simply a need. A lot was about to happen, and more likely than not Logan would be carrying him for a second time. Lawrence's presence could only mend so much with his own injuries to account for.

"I need Haine awake. Ya don't have t'be in the room, but once it's done, things are gonna shift. Papers are gonna copy n'go back where they were. Last thing I need t'know, is how ya want the police aware."

Charles: Too soon. Charles practically flinched out of his skin at the sudden presence before recognizing his husband. It still took several long moments for his pulse to slow to normal, but he didn't pull away from the kiss.

He nodded, pulling his jumper more tightly around his body.

"All right. As soon as you're inside of his office, I'll wake him. And I'll phone the police. If we're wanting to be semi-legitimate, it'll be good to have a call on record."

Mason: "Thy will be done."

Mason swallowed thickly, combed his fingers through Charles' hair. A faraway look had taken his eyes as he planned, only to shake it off.

The less of his strength used the better. One last decision to be made.

"Have Kurt move everyone out. I won't be long. That includes you. Make your call when you get home."

Charles: "And how are you getting home, Mason? Will you have the energy to make it back? I'll have to phone from here, in order to reach emergency services in this area. But, I'll have Kurt take me straight after."

However grudgingly. In truth, only the children were keeping him moving. He was exhausted, and he hadn't taken that second dose of morphine.

Mason: "Ya don't think they'll find that suspicious? You've been seen in San Francisco." But he wouldn't argue beyond this. If Charles was adamant then so be it.

Charles: "They have my information, here. My belongings. My blood is splattered in one of the rooms. They'll know I was here, and they'll definitely want to question me. I never intended to hide my presence."

Only Mason and the others.

"They also know I'm a mutant. And will know how to contact me and the rest of the captives, when the time comes. Whatever influencing I'll have to do to smooth things over, I'll do. It was more important to get them someplace safe, than spend however many hours being questioned immediately."

Mason: "Baby, they won't know unless ya want em to know. That's what's about to happen." He didn't realize that was what Charles wanted. His staying and revealing himself as a victim in all this hadn't crossed Mason's mind once. There would be no sense in Charles' leaving if that were the case. And who caused his injury? Haine?

Mason rubbed his face in both hands. Draft three, then.

Charles: "You said it yourself, people know I was in San Francisco. I'm supposed to be giving a lecture in a couple of hours and I can barely stand. I haven't seen myself, but I imagine it isn't pretty. Did you and Xavier wipe the footage from the hotel's security cameras of me being taken? We haven't even checked out! All of our belongings... how do I explain it away? It's too much for you to put into a single contract."

Mason: "Then ya wanna stay here strapped to a bed? I can - I can make it work." He didn't care about himself. This wasn't about him, it was about Charles, and having Charles here, having to explain in detail what had happened to him, the very thought made his wings itch.

Charles: "No. It's much too late for bed-strapping. The children are already at the school. We can't unring that bell and, frankly, I wouldn't want to. What we need is for them not to dig too deeply into how we escaped. I'm assuming the contract can cover that, at least. If not, I'll turn their thoughts away from the idea."

Mason: Mason took to squatting in front of Charles' wheelchair. He didn't want to think about the reason his husband was in one. One step at a time. They had to cross this hurdle first. He closed his eyes. His mind and his mouth weren't in sync. Articulating his thoughts was becoming a struggle. Their ideas had to be perfectly aligned for this to succeed.

Charles would take the children. That was the least of his concerns. What mattered was Haine and shutting this place down. The dead children, unfortunately, had to remain, as well as original-passing copies of their files. The living children were never here. That would simplify one aspect of this operation.

Charles could play off his injuries as a horrible accident. A hit and run, given the location of his injury. Maybe. This would prevent him from having to testify. Having to face anyone but those he absolutely trusted.

The remaining staff would be the simplest spell. Memory alterations.

All of this relied on Haine begging for his life. This was the price for his life.

This Mason offered telepathically.

Charles: Charles considered the offered plan. He was prepared to be questioned. He was prepared to testify. He was prepared to help the captured children through the same. It was their suffering he thought of, not his own. And the strain that his own pain would put on Mason.

Finally, he nodded. It would work.

"I can live with that outcome. I'll have to return to San Francisco. Clean up the mess there, before it gets out of hand."

Mason: "I'll make this work with Haine." He gestured to the floor. "This is mine. San Francisco is yours. If Kurt has ya, my last trip'll be t'the school." This, knowing it would be his last transportation for some time. Knowing he and Lawrence would be out of commission entirely.

Charles: "I'll meet you there." He took Mason's face in both of his hands.

"I'll gather everyone and reach out to Kurt. I can have one of the staff call the police. We'll call it a growth of conscience. Is there anything else you need from me? Aside from waking Haine, of course. I'll make sure everyone else stays asleep until the police arrive."

Mason: His demon leaned into his hand, breathed him in for the last time.

"I need ya t'go home. I need ya t'be someplace safe n'fuckin' stay there. Okay?"

Charles: He nodded. "When I'm finished in San Francisco. I'll work quickly."

His thumb stroked over one bearded cheek.

"I love you. I'll see you at home. Soon."

A promise.

Mason: "Always." Said with as much conviction as he could muster. His vision would blur if he stayed in Charles' presence for much longer. He kissed between his eyes and forced himself away. Back to Haine, steeling his expression by the time he reached the door.

Charles/Haine: Charles took a moment to breathe once Mason departed. It was nearly over. They'd be home safe and warm in bed within the hour, hopefully.

Reinvigorated by that thought, he filled the team in on the plan. They'd join him in the storage room as swiftly as possible.

Already on her way, Ororo arrived first. She was helping to gather boxes when Mason reached Haine's office.

Charles dragged him roughly out of sleep and severed the connection.

Haine winced at the fresh wave of pain that greeted him. But it was the figure in the doorway that caused his face to pale. He curled in on himself tightly and said nothing. Charles wasn't around to spare his life, this time. He hoped his death was quick, but he doubted it would be.

Mason: The figure in the doorway didn't move. The only signs of life the rise and fall of his chest, and the subtle movement of pupils swimming in mahogany.

Haine didn't have to say a word. Didn't have to move if he didn't want to. His only hope crossed the room and knelt by his side.

"What's your first name, Haine?" Now that they had a moment to themselves, they could pretend to have some civility.

Haine: He shrank back against the wall at the creature's approach. He couldn't flee, even if there had been an opening. His leg throbbed at the memory of the break. He'd done it without even touching him.

He swallowed thickly. "Christopher."

Mason: "Christopher. That's a good name."

Rough fingertips brushed along the doctor's hairline. Nails gently scraped over his five o'clock shadow. Every second wasted was a second to recharge, to let every word sink in.

"Ya have a choice, Christopher. One that's entirely yours. So I want ya to think really hard."

A breath of silence allowed Haine to hang onto his every word.

"Do ya want to live to see tomorrow?"

Haine: It was a touch far too tender for the situation. He shuddered, and tried to pull away from it. But with the wall at his back, there was nowhere to go.

"Yes," he breathed, grasping at the unexpected offer. "Yes, of course."

Mason: "Survival instincts, good. Death would mean seein' my face every day for eternity. What I did to your leg is nothin' compared to what I'll do to you in Hell. What ya think I am, I am. Now tell me this, do ya wanna remember my face?"

Haine: He shook his head. Not a refusal. Confusion. "I-I don't know what you mean. I couldn't forget your face if I tried."

These beings would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

Mason: "I can take it all away. My face, your pain. I can put it all back."

Two fingers pinched at Haine's chin, held him firmly.

"I'd rather skin ya while ya breathe, but it's what Charles wants, because he's better than me. Ya have two options, mine, or his."

Haine: He didn't even try to pull his chin free. That little comment on the professor left a sour taste in his mouth. A better man would have had vision. Would have seen Haine's work for the noble undertaking it was and joined him willingly. That the plan had crumbled was his fucking fault. But Haine wasn't foolish enough to say so.

"His." He tried not to spit the word.

Mason: Had this been a written contract with every clause put to ink Haine might have refused. Death was certainly Mason's preference, but Charles had refused his death no matter. For now, Mason set aside the unsavory detail of his arrangement, pulling Haine to his feet via his collar.

"Seal it with a kiss, monster."

Haine: He groaned in pain at the shift in position. The command made no sense to the doctor. All of this was entirely outside of his understanding of the world. But the words were straightforward enough.

He leaned in as much as he dared and brushed the lightest of kisses against that mouth. A shudder followed.

Mason: Upon opening his eyes Christopher Haine would find himself alone. Not a broken hinge nor a broken bone. The halls were unnaturally quiet. Not a soul in movement, like a wound toy readying to dance, standing in their positions. Where guards should have stood there was liminal space.

There was not a single child in those mint green and white cells. Not yet. Plans for more children, certainly. Those to replace their losses. Those unfortunate souls on cold slabs await their final rest.

But not for much longer.

Mason appeared in the only safe place he could think, falling on his knees in their bedroom, crumbing as his contract came to life.

Charles/Haine: Haine blinked. Something was incredibly wrong here, but he could not pinpoint how. He brushed the feeling aside as being overtired and decided on a nap as soon as the plans were finalized. The sensation would be forgotten entirely by the time the sirens sounded.

Charles had done as promised. Kurt came for the staff and boxes first, then returned shortly thereafter for the professor. Between them, they made quick work of packing up the hotel room.

His call to the conference's lead organizer had been brief, and apologetic. Mason's suggested excuse was a perfect one: a hit-and-run accident. The authorities had already been informed and the professor would be fine after rest and recovery. He was so very sorry for the inconvenience. He hoped another lecturer would be able to fill in for him. And, yes, he'd happily attend the following year.

Here, there were no armed guards or psionic blockers. It was laughably easy for Charles to nudge the concierge into handing over the security footage and forgetting the entire interaction. As far as she could recall, the nice couple had checked out that morning, without incident.

Before the hour was through, he was back in the safety of his home. He'd had no time to so much as ask after the mansion's newest residents before he was being shooed off to bed. Hank would see to his injuries, soon.

Charles called for Logan as soon as he found Mason collapsed on the ground. His demon was out cold and not aware of his husband's gentle fussing. The burly mutant hauled both of them onto the mattress, in turn, and left with only mild grumbling.

Mason: Mason looked up from his own laptop. Not a presentation of his own, but the yearly appointments app. A wall of various colors and jotted notes. He wanted so much to do more. Still, after all these years, no secretary had managed to pick up his mantle. This was just life, and with no mention of an assistant uttered in months.

By now, Mason wouldn't trust anyone else to keep up.

"Ya are. Ya need to eat somethin'." Charles wasn't the only one watching the clock, but he knew cutting his husband off in the middle of writing would mean more time getting his thoughts reorganized.

But a moment would be stolen, just a moment, to comb his fingers through Charles' hair and pull him into a kiss. Not nearly as long as he would have liked, but time was precious.

"Fifteen minutes." Leaving without a crack of thunder and a horrible stench required exertion and a bloody nose, but Charles would be left in peace in the blink of an eye.

Charles: He nodded, but his attention had already returned to the PowerPoint he’d been polishing.

“We passed a deli earlier; a block or two away from here. Sign said it was open late. I’ll grab a couple of sandwiches for us when I’m finished.”

For his husband’s quiet, gentle affection, Charles would allow a brief distraction. He hummed softly into that kiss, and brushed a thumb over Mason’s cheek. A swift touch, but it would hold them both for a short while.

“Fifteen minutes,” he echoed, refocusing on his penultimate slide. He did not watch his husband leave, but he felt his parting. He let the resulting silence -in the room, and in his mind- drive him just a bit harder.

Seven minutes later, the professor was satisfied with what he had. He knew from experience that his satisfaction would be short-lived. But any tweaking could wait until he’d had a decent meal, and enough rest to assuage his husband.

He collected mobile, wallet, and room-card. The open laptop and scattered stacks of notes he left on the bed. They could be dealt with later. He glanced at the clock again, and after a beat of consideration, grabbed a spare scrap of paper and scribbled a quick message to Mason.

Ran down to the deli. Won’t be long.

-C

Mason: Fifteen minutes could feel like seconds or a lifetime. On the day-to-day, no one counted the minutes. A vague goal had been given as they had always been given; something to look forward to, and a warning should something go amiss.

The children were surprised to see their father. Limited time had been explained, as well as the progress their father was making with his conference, and the love Charles perpetually felt. News he didn't have to give, but given to feel included, and peace of mind. Both daughter and son were given affection. Hugs and kisses for Cynthia, hugs and ruffling of hair for Rory.

Tomorrow, Charles would say good morning and goodnight himself, but they had to understand his busy schedule, and while both said they understood, Cynthia's private thoughts were agitated, restless.

Mason knelt by her bed.

'What's the matter?'

'I don't know. I want to use my voice today.'

'You want to scream?'

Eleven years old and those eyes were beyond their years. The worry behind them, a look no child should express. The demon nodded.

'Do you trust me?'

She nodded.

"I'll be back." Mason kissed between her eyes and stood. "Nothing's gonna happen to you."

The school would be put on lockdown. No visitors. No one through the front door without Jean's approval. They could either like it or lump it.

Mason returned to the hotel some thirty minutes later, ready to explain himself when he found himself alone. Without seeing the note, his first instinct was to reach for Charles' mind.

Charles: He’d never had any desire to live on the West Coast. He never would. But Charles couldn’t deny the appeal of a summer night in San Francisco. The weather was the perfect side of cool, and the view of the Bay from their balcony was breathtaking. They could have dinner out there, he supposed, as he left the alley between their building and the next, passing out onto the sidewalk.

The stroll from hotel to restaurant was a short one, and so quiet. At least compared to Manhattan. With no baseball game to draw crowds to the stadium, this section of the city was rather peaceful.

The deli, too, was uncrowded. Only an enamoured young couple stood between him and the middle-aged woman manning the counter. She was quite pretty, with her deep dimples and wide brown eyes. Charles knew Mason would forgive him a bit of harmless flirting, if it meant two free cookies.

His spirits were sky-high on the short journey back. Delightfully, he found himself thinking more of the pleasure of his husband’s company than further editing his presentation. Perhaps a shower together, after dinner. Or drinks at the rooftop lounge, if it wasn’t too crowded. Both, he thought. Drinks first, shower after. And then they could make use of those pristine hotel sheets…

The chill that ran up his spine as he rounded the corner into their alleyway once more had those lovely thoughts tapering off. He stopped there in the opening, wanting to retreat to the sidewalk and not quite understanding why. It took a moment for him to place the source of the unsettled feeling.

An Amazon delivery? At this hour?

Not unheard of in a major city, he supposed. But he let his loosely-wound telepathy unfurl, regardless, trusting his instincts.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing, precisely.

There were millions of minds within his impressive radius. But nothing sinister. Not from the blue-gray van with its smirking logo. Not from either of the buildings flanking him.

Gripping the paper bag that held his dinner like a lifeline, Charles eased his way into the alley. He was fine. Everything was fine. Mason was almost certainly some ten stories above him, waiting in their room for his return. With that image in mind, he picked up his pace, heading for the lobby doors at nearly a jog.

The massive hand that snapped around his mouth like a vice should have come as a surprise.

It didn’t.

He was yanked back against a broad, solid chest. There was no wriggling free from those trunk-like arms, but Charles would be damned if he didn’t try.

He threw his weight to and fro. His curses were muffled by that iron grip. The heavy bag split as it hit the pavement, spilling its contents across the alleyway. Charles roared against that hand, reached out mental claws to drag against his assailant’s–

Nothing.

Truly nothing, this time.

Like fingers passing through fog, he could find no mind to grab hold of.

His heart slammed against his ribs. Deliriously, he feared they might crack. He redoubled his efforts to pull free, kicking and thrashing as he was dragged back toward that godforsaken van.

In desperation, he reached out for the familiar timbre of Mason’s mind. A wordless plea. Deafening. Or it would have been, had his husband been near enough to feel it.

A sharp pain flared in the side of his neck and dulled just as quickly. He had only the briefest moment to panic over what he might have been injected with before the world went dark.

Mason: Not feeling Charles’ mind in any capacity was the first and only flag required to put a rod in Mason’s spine. Never in the history of their marriage was that normal. Beyond their marriage. Even respecting one another’s privacy, he could always feel his companion’s presence. There was not so much as a tingle. And that… was utterly terrifying. History would note this very moment as frightening to the crossroad demon as Hell itself.

“Charles,” was a whisper between his teeth.

The note was found in a spin of confusion, folded, and pocketed. Kept for a spell, perhaps, if he could wrap his head around one. He then disappeared, reappearing in the alley Charles would have taken to find… a mess of paper and discarded food.

“Charles!” There was no sense in calling his name. His telepathy, like flailing arms, felt for as far as he was capable. Not nearly the impressive range as Charles. Not nearly as far as –

Mason pulled his phone from his coat, tapped for his brother’s number, and held the phone to his ear.

Xavier: Xavier stepped into the elevator and checked his watch. If the coffee shop wasn't busy and if he was quick about it, he had just enough time to grab himself something before his meeting. It would have been simpler to ask his secretary to get it for him but he needed to get some fresh air to sustain himself before the hours-long torment ahead.

And he had no doubts it would be hours long. Meetings with architects and designers always were.

Xavier had only managed to take three steps into the lobby of his hotel when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. For one terrifying moment he thought it was his secretary telling him the architect had come early, only to relax when he saw it wasn't.

"Hello, Mai," he greeted his brother, smiling to himself. "This is a surprise. Shouldn't you be in bed?" Late night in San Francisco was mid-morning in Bangkok.

Mason: Hearing a smile from his brother after all these years should have warmed his chest, but there was absolutely nothing.

"Charles is gone. I need you here." The name of the hotel, street, and view were rattled off without pause.

He didn't expect another demon to question the urgency. A call wouldn't have been made if he could feel the telepath's presence. Still, he waited in those split seconds to have to defend himself.

Xavier: The familiar icy claws of dread sank violently into Xavier's chest at his brother's words. It couldn't be. Not again, not to yet another member of their family.

He said, "I'll be there in five minutes," and hung up. He'd be there in less if he could swing it. Questioning the urgency or demanding that Mason justify himself were the farthest things from his mind, and besides, there was no need to do either. This was his brother, and he was asking for help.

He placed two calls. One to Abel, informing him of the situation and asking him not to let Devlin out of his sight, and the second to his secretary, informing her that an emergency had come up and to have Saifah fill in for him at the meeting. The former was far more understanding than the latter but just now that was of no consequence.

His affairs seen to, he ducked into the nearest bathroom and, having made sure it was empty, disappeared to the other side of the planet, to his brother's side.

Mason: Not again was only Mason's second thought after hanging up the phone. His instinct had been Xavier, but he knew what this city meant to his brother. This city was cursed.

Five minutes might as well have been an hour. Mason would be found in the alley beside the ant-ridden mess, a note in his hand and his eyes to the light-polluted heavens. In such limited light, his eyes might as well have been as black as his brother's, but any demon would know better. A grave scent had washed over him, toiled earth, char, and sulfur. A bead of black blood had pooled at his nostril. An all-too-familiar heat radiated just several feet from the crossroad demon. A great doglike beast had its nose to the wall. Its armor-plated scales quivered a gradient of black and red.

Desperately, Mason had stretched his telepathy to its breaking point. The more he pushed the stronger his migraine. Interrupted not by Xavier's presence, but by his second hellhound, Para, coming from behind the black-eyed demon and pushing its nose in his palm.

Xavier: The sudden transition from day to night would have been jarring for any other magic user, but not so for a demon like Xavier. He needed no time to adjust or get his bearings; he knew where he was going and he strode there with purpose, steps echoing off the pavement to herald his arrival.

Such a long time since he had seen a hellhound that their presence was almost nostalgic, unlike the heat and the sulfur and brimstone clinging to the air that reminded him so vividly of Hell. Of course, given his experiences, San Francisco may as well have been the same thing.

"Mai."

Mason: Red eyes transitioned to brown as the demon blinked, looking toward the sound of his childhood name.

"I can't feel him. That's not normal, Zav. Even when we put up walls I know the wall is there. Nothing's there."

Xavier: A sleeping mind and an unconscious mind were still reachable for those of adequate power and skill. If a mind couldn't be felt at all?

"Then someone's purposefully keeping you out. Even demons can't always perceive barriers they haven't built. How long has it been?"

Mason: "I left for thirty minutes." The note was shown to his brother. Logic would tell a human he wasn't taken far. But their world revolved around teleportation, and without feeling Charles' mind, he could have been one mile or a hundred.

"He was here for a conference. People knew he would be here. I shouldn't have left."

Xavier: Xavier sighed at the note. Oh, Charles. "You couldn't have known, Mai. The trip to the deli wasn't planned. They waited for him to be alone and ambushed him. Mere seconds are all that's required for that, even among humans. A trip to the bathroom at the conference would've been enough."

This had just been rotten fucking luck.

"Can your hounds detect his scent?"

Mason: "It ends here," Mason sighed. "Either a vehicle or something like us. I didn't smell sulfur before." A hand was thrown in the direction of his hounds. "Useless fucks."

Xavier: A vehicle would've been nothing for the tracking abilities of something like them. Whoever had done this had been prepared far beyond the capabilities of a mere mortal.

"They hid him from you, too, hm?" Xavier patted both hounds on the head and swallowed the sickly feeling of foreboding at the fact that even they couldn't detect Charles. But maybe...

"Can you smell anyone else, lovelies? Can you smell a vehicle?"

Charles: Indeed, there would be no scent trail to follow. Beyond the bag he’d been holding, only a small drop of blood told that the telepath had been there at all.

That, and the hotel’s security cameras, of course.

His captors had been utterly human, neither possessing knowledge of the preternatural, beyond the public knowledge of mutantkind.

But the mercenaries were professionals. Thoroughly trained. Handsomely paid. They would stop only once on their journey northeast, out of the city. To swap their stolen delivery van for one far less conspicuous, though conveniently lined with psionic-blocking panels.

His mobile phone, if traced, would lead pursuers as far as I-80 E. There, it could be found smashed to bits in a patch of scrub grass off the highway.

Mason: It would take a moment of clarity for Mason to remember cellular phones. An old-fashioned soul brushing the fingertips of technology for only a single lifetime.

Bola had found the speck of blood. All but pressed its slitted nose against the unnoticed splatter. Its insistence caught its maker's attention. Seeing the minute, gruesome evidence caused a flash of red in Mason's eyes.

Para had turned the corner of the alleyway. No mortal would see the creature; only feel a terrible crawl down their spines and a noxious feeling in their stomachs.

Only one woman stopped to glance back, brow furrowed. Someone else's contract, and far from Mason's concern.

The further Para walked the more focused Mason became, taking half a block to realize -

"His phone. Do you know what I'm supposed to do? A way to follow...?"

Xavier/Ramsay: An ambush, a single drop of blood, seemingly no trace left behind. Whoever had done this was highly skilled. It was precision work more than luck that had landed them Charles.

Xavier frowned as he followed the hound, thinking. They were going to need more than this. Absent telepathic connection and something to track by magical means, they'd have to resort to far slower human methods. Hardly ideal.

He'd just been about to ask if there had been any strange incidents around Charles when Mason spoke and reminded Xavier that his brother was not in fact, the only old-fashioned soul out of the two of them. Why hadn't that occurred to him sooner?

Rather than answer Mason right away, Xavier pulled out his own phone and dialed a number from memory.

"John, I need you," he said by way of greeting.

The phone wasn't on speaker, but Mason would be able to hear the person on the other end anyway. "At the hotel?" Ramsay practically shouted. It sounded like he was at a party.

"No, I need you to track a cellphone for me. Can you do that, are you at home?"

"One minute."

Like Xavier, Ramsay hadn't questioned the urgency in his friend's voice. He simply left wherever he was and entered a quieter room. "What's the number?"

The demon rattled it off.

There was silence on the other end of the line as Ramsay worked.

Xavier gave his brother a nod. "He's working on it."

A few moments later, Ramsay relayed the results of his search. Xavier finally put him on speaker.

"The phone left the city heading east," said the witch. "Last ping was along I-80, then it disappears. Probably got turned off."

The demon shook his head. "He wouldn't have turned it off. Where along I-80?"

Ramsay told him.

"Okay, thank you, John."

Mason: Why did he know the name John? A generic name, but coming from Xavier's mouth it was familiar.

"Your porter?" That was what they needed, more of their kind. Those unburdened by human methods.

"We need more feet on the ground."

He didn't care about the time of night; didn't care there were thousands of people on the highway. Right now, he didn't care about concealing a goddamn thing. Mason disappeared with a rumble of thunder, reappearing by a tree off the side of the highway. A place he had been before, but only a vague image. A half mile from where he needed to be. Teleportation was tricky without proper history in the area.

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Yes, that’s him. His skills go beyond transport.” Far beyond. Ramsay had all manner of tricks up his sleeve, not that one could tell from looking at him.

Part of that was by design, of course.

He sent Ramsay a quick message telling him to keep his phone close and followed his brother through the ether to the approximate location they’d been given.

With just as little to go on as Mason, Xavier’s aim wasn’t much better. He landed a few yards away from his brother.

Not that it made a difference, really. There was nothing but the highway and the cars speeding along on it, which meant that Charles’ phone had probably been tossed out a window.

“Mai, has anyone new entered Charles’ life? Yours? The school?”

Mason: "Just the fucking cucks that organized the conference."

It could have been ten minutes after his departure. Three minutes before his return. Any number of minutes meant further miles of separation.

They had already lived through this once. Over a fucking daydreamed question. Life in a fucking marble in a djinn's drawer, and Charles had managed to keep his head.

But Charles wasn't a demon deserving of punishment. How far could his teleportation take him? If Charles had been out of his range...

"Zav, can you feel him?"

Xavier: Knowing that introduced many more questions and had myriad implications but offered no answers. None that could be quickly and easily obtained at least.

“I can try.” Although it would be difficult to concentrate enough to perceive one specific person with hundreds continuously zooming past on the highway behind them, knowing where not to look was a small blessing. The most logical place for Charles to be, if he was still in this area, was away from the road.

Xavier began walking with his back to it, motioning for Mason to follow as he felt for anyone or anything in the area ahead.

Come on, Charles, he thought. Be here. Please.

Mason: "Here? Ya think he's here?" Mason had his doubts, but anything was possible. There weren't many roads leading off this specific patch of the highway. Couldn't have been supernatural, he told himself again. Para and Bola would have given as much. That just left Charles' circle of concern, mortals and mutants. He would much rather deal with something he could trace.

Something he could trace...

"Your porter know map spells? Tracers? There's a fuckin' spell... blood... and somethin' appears on the map? It's old fuckin' magick."

Xavier: “I think that if he is here, he won’t be right near the highway.” However much Xavier doubted that Charles was anywhere nearby, they had to make sure. They couldn’t afford to dismiss possibilities when they had so little to go on.

They also couldn’t afford to waste time. Xavier didn’t intend to linger if he didn’t feel a mind nearby that could be Charles or someone related to his disappearance.

“The spell sounds familiar but we’d actually need Charles’ blood for something like that to work. Would you happen to have any?” It was a serious question.

Mason: "Bola found a speck. Speck isn't enough... to... " Mason paused mid-step, staring at the ground.

"He'd have some at the school. The lab. He's a fuckin' collector." Though, he couldn't recall the last time Charles had mentioned taking his own.

He pinched between his eyes and held his breath. Doing anything other than directly searching felt like betrayal. Charles had been this way. To leave would be to abandon the closest he could be to his husband.

Thoughts he shared freely in their connection. Today was not the day for the walls. Not yet.

Xavier/Ramsay: “That’s only half the battle,” Xavier said as he reached into his pocket for his phone to give Ramsay another call.

He updated his friend on the situation and asked about the spell that Mason had mentioned, as well as inquiring about any others that Ramsay might know.

“Mate, that shit’s out of my wheelhouse,” said the witch. Xavier had put the phone on speaker. “Even if I did know that spell, no way I can pull it off. I don’t fuck with blood magick. And as far as trackers, I don’t think I have anything that’ll help. Have you asked Ro?”

Xavier sighed. “No, but I doubt he can find something in time.”

“What about that compass thing? The one you found in that shop?”

“I’ve never tried it but it uses hair.” He looked to his brother. “Do you have any of his hair?”

Mason: The words blood magic had Mason looking up. He knew exactly the witch with expertise, but witchcraft generally took time.

If these people wanted Charles dead, he would have found his body slumped in the alley. They could have something planned for his body. He could very well -

A drawbridge connecting their minds began raising.

"He just uses a comb. I can... go look."

Xavier/Ramsay: “Try that,” said Ramsay, having heard Mason. “I’ll ask around, tap some people who might know of a way. I’ll tell you if I find anything.”

Xavier nodded. “Thank you, John,” he said, hanging up. He put his phone away and reached for Mason’s hand.

“I’ll take us back to the hotel. We can’t both wear ourselves out.”

Mason: Instinctually, Mason pulled from his shoulder, intent on putting distance between them. By now, the drawbridge had been raised. Not even a hint of his thoughts.

"What compass is he talkin' about?"

Xavier: Xavier dropped his hand. “I was at a shop that masquerades as an ordinary antique shop but also sells magical artifacts to those with the means to afford them. The owner is an acquaintance. According to him, the compass can point you toward anyone as long as it has a lock of their hair. I’ve never tried it and I can’t guarantee it’ll work.” Artifacts from that shop were a toss-up at best but…

Xavier looked away from his brother under the guise of thinking the matter over. In reality, he was considering other…less savory options.

Mason: A lock was more than a single strand. The answer was staring them in the face. Neither were admitting the chance of success was slim.

"Ya get the compass, I'll look for... a hair. I have other people to call. A fuckin' number in North Carolina t'find."

Even if he traveled this road with every ounce of teleportational power, it wouldn't matter. If Charles were conscious, this chase would already be over. Maybe feeling the thoughts of his captors, but there were thousands on this road. He had to think logically.

"I'll call ya when I find somethin'."

Xavier: “…Wait.”

Xavier closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If it weren’t for recent events, and if it were anyone else, and if he didn’t have the sinking feeling that they were very much up against a ticking clock, he probably wouldn’t have been considering what he was currently considering.

But, circumstances being what they were, he really didn’t see another option that would be faster or more reliable and they very much needed something that was both of those things. The benefits far outweighed the cost, and he was the one who’d be paying it anyway.

“Look for the hair but don’t call anyone just yet. I’ll get the compass and see if I have anything else that might help.”

Mason: He didn't like the tone of that single word. He stared at his brother and considered their entire life story. When in their history he heard that tone before. Recent events in Xavier's life, events that would lead to those closed eyes, tight lips, and a crushing grip tightened the muscles of his shoulders.

"Your blood magic? Your wards? Your porter? A naphil in Louisiana? That better be all ya see. For your fuckin' sake."

Xavier: “Yes, blood magic,” Xavier said with a nod. That much was the truth. It was the most viable option, and the one he planned to pursue if at all possible.

He just wished the ‘if’ wasn’t quite so big.

“How much time would it take to check if any of Charles’ blood is available?”

Mason: "A phone call." Or arrival. The more likely place to find his hair would be on the many sweaters and cardigans.

His phone was removed from his coat once more.

"Xavier."

Xavier: “Then you’d better make it. Knowing whether that’s an option will speed my search.”

Maybe he’d better ask Ramsay to transport him. He’d meant what he’d said about not wearing themselves out.

“Hm?” He began composing a text.

Mason: "You have a son." He watched his brother closely. Whether or not he would look away, hesitate. Whether his breathing remained even, and the grip on his phone neutral.

"Look at me," he finally said, waited.

Xavier: Xavier finished his message to Ramsay and made sure to ask him to be quick about arriving. Lingering wouldn’t do at all.

By the time he looked at his brother, all his mental walls were in place. He looked concerned. Determined. Angry in a way that wasn’t directed at Mason. And when he spoke, his voice was gentle and calm.

“I know. He’s safe in a warded house in Bangkok with someone I trust with my life and his. You have a son, too. And a daughter. Whatever we’re dealing with won’t touch any of them, of that you can be certain.”

Mason: The expectation that he would finish what he started only served to disappoint. Did Xavier think years separated via hate would make him a better actor in his brother's presence? As authentic as that accent.

"Ya know goddamn well that's not what I'm sayin'."

Xavier: He wasn't a better actor, but his emotions were sincere. He was concerned about Charles and determined to find him. He was angry that this was happening to his brother and his family, that someone had had the gall to think they'd be able to get away with taking Charles.

When he and Mason succeeded, and they would, Xavier fully intended for there to be hell to pay.

"We're going to find him, Mai. We're going to find him and bring him back safely and afterward, I'm going to go home. I'm going to hug my son. I'm going to have a meal with him and ask him about his day and then at some point, when you're up for it, you and your family can come visit my resort."

Although Xavier's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, his gaze was steady. His voice never wavered. He spoke like a man who believed every word he said. What he was telling his brother wasn't merely a hope; it would happen.

Mason: No other calls. That's what Xavier had said. No outside parties just yet. If they could keep this contained, then it would be Charles' decision who did and did not know what had happened. It would be his trauma, his right.

So then, kept contained... there was still someone in mind. The more Xavier elaborated, the more hardened his resolve.

"Hotel, and home for his blood. You... the compass. I'll call ya."

He would not wait for Xavier to confirm. Disappearing in a blink. The wind kicked up all around the highway, causing several near-misses, and carrying with it an inexplicable storm on an otherwise placid day.

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier’s departure would be made to far less fanfare.

Ramsay appeared moments after Mason left, his arrival passing unnoticed in the kerfuffle Mason had left in his wake. The dark helped as well.

“Where are we going?” the witch asked as Xavier joined him.

“The warehouse. I need to find the compass and see if there’s anything else in my arsenal that can be of any use at all. Mason seems certain using Charles’ blood is an option, so that should broaden my scope.”

“What happens if you can’t find anything and the compass doesn’t work?”

“Then I’m going to need you to take me to Quebec.”

“Bloody hell’s in Quebec?” Ramsay wondered, making preparations for the ritual.

“Don’t ask,” Xavier sighed before his friend’s magic whisked them back to San Francisco.

Mason/Lawrence: The hotel was far too quiet. Not the sound of Charles stretching, sighing, yawning, twisting to relieve the stress on his back. Absent the sound of typing, papers rustling, sipping tea or clandestine whiskey.

It had taken this long for the realization to sink in. He had not felt his husband at all. The possibility that he was dead was as real as the silence suffocating him. Just thirty minutes to lose the man he had reversed so much of his life for. No message to the school. No garish writings on the wall. No goodbyes.

Mason crossed the room to the bed, feeling foolish in his fruitless pursuit of thin brown hair. When he found nothing, he crossed to the bathroom, to the sink and the forgotten comb. One single strand. This was not enough for any benign spell. All this power at his fingertips, and not a fucking thing he could do without the aid of a witch.

The hair was left behind as he traveled south, appearing in the very town Xavier had told him to wait. Not to Leslie Issott’s cabin, but another equally abhorred creature. The one that knew he was there without a single knock.

Lawrence Atlas came to the door, concern as present on his face as that of his twin.

“When?”

“Less than an hour.”

Lawrence excused himself to find his wife, pull her to his chest and apologize. He did not know when he would return. There would be no lie and no speculation.

Their merge was swift and nearly painless.

Xavier’s number was punched into his phone as he started down the driveway.

Xavier/Ramsay: Magical artifacts of dubious origin and power, as well as those deemed too dangerous to keep at the estate, were kept in a warded vault at Xavier's main warehouse. Entry to and knowledge of the existence of the vault were limited to Xavier, Rohan, and Ramsay.

Its contents were more or less organized, with the especially powerful items kept behind warded glass to render their magic inert and everything else sorted into very general categories. Loose as it was, the system kept things in order and was usually helpful when looking for something specific. Unfortunately, the latter was not true tonight.

Xavier found the compass he was looking for easily enough but an alternative was proving...challenging.

"Far be it from me to tell you what to collect," Ramsay said as he looked through records. "But how it is possible that you've got dozens of things to help you find things and almost nothing to help you find people?"

"Because I'm a collector, John!" Xavier had been growing more irritated with every passing moment. "All I ever need to find is things! Just keep looking."

"I am, I am."

The depths of his inadequacy were out on full display tonight. Truthfully, they'd been on display for decades; he just felt them more keenly in some moments.

Mason's call was cause for both hope and dread.

"Did you find hair?" Xavier asked his brother.

Mason: There was something in that tone that irritated Mason just as much as he could relate to it. They were getting nowhere slowly. His solution might have been in this godforsaken town, as reluctant as he was to accept it.

“One strand of fuckin' hair ain’t bringin’ my husband home. I have an idea n’m’not fuckin’ waitin’ around. Ya remember seein’ a man at our weddin’. Tall blond, piercin’? Charles got chummy with a fuckin’ blood mage n’he’s in Lawrence's fuckin' town. I’m getting’ Charles’ blood, n’m’bringin’ it t’him.”

Xavier: Xavier gasped softly. Was it possible that something in this godforsaken universe had finally taken pity on their family? Not one minute ago it had been a faraway hope and now they were being thrown a bone by Charles himself.

"Vaguely, yes." If he was remembering the right man, his appearance had hardly screamed 'blood mage' but did anyone's ever?

"What do you need from me? Tell me and I'm there." Xavier's tone had changed almost completely. Any irritation he'd felt was no longer present in his tone or in him. He sounded relieved.

Mason: What he needed was a grip on his patience and sanity. Of all the people in the universe, there might have been better choices. Bronwyn, for one, but that was impossible. A delicately mended relationship with his brother would have to do.

"Meet me back in Edenton. M'not walkin' into a witch's house on my own."

Xavier: "I'll be right there. Do you want John to take you to collect the blood?" There were charms in here that helped bolster magical energy; perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take a few just in case they were needed. Zipping around was no small feat.

Mason: "Just picked up Lawrence. M'good. Meet ya back at his place."

The call was ended before any argument could be made in Ramsay's favor. So far no efforts had been made to conceal his presence. His stamina would hold. No bloody nose, half the energy, and every bit the fanfare, as Xavier regarded. For now, his tunnel vision was tolerable.

The walls built against his brother were used in equal measure against Jean Grey. She didn't need to know. No one needed to know what had happened. Only when Charles was willing and able to tell them himself, if he cared to at all.

Only one vial. More than he was dreading, and less than he could hope for. No one needed to know of his presence, but it was too late to pretend Hank McCoy hadn't seen him exit the lab without so much as a glance.

Only in the coming and going of the school, for the sake of his children, did he conceal his presence, wiping blood on the back of his hand as he reappeared around the side of Lawrence's house. Now, at last, he was beginning to feel the strain of constant movement.

Xavier/Ramsay: Right then. No matter. The decision to take the charms had already been made. If Mason did exhaust himself, they’d be able to make up for it.

“Change of plans,” Xavier told Ramsay. “The compass is off the table. We’re going to Edenton to see a blood mage who’s a friend of Charles.”

“Charles knows a blood mage?”

“Apparently.” For which mercy may we give thanks, the demon thought. He’d avoided the metaphorical hangman’s noose.

Together, he and Ramsay combed the records for any charm that either amplified magical energy or facilitated magical travel and chose the best of the bunch for Xavier to take him.

“I’m goin’ with you,” Ramsay said as they stepped out of the warehouse some time later. “I’m not lettin’ you go into the heart of bloody darkness by yourself.”

“It’s only Edenton, John.”

“I don’t mean Edenton, I’m talkin’ about wherever the hell it is they took your brother-in-law that even bleedin’ hell hounds can’t fuckin’ find him.”

“I won’t be alone, Mason will be there.”

“Quit arguin’ with me, I’m goin’.”

Xavier nodded. “All right. Let’s go to Edenton then. I’ll tell you where.”

Mason: If only Xavier could read auras. Perhaps it was for the best he could not. The impatience oozing from his brother was damn near palpable.

"Could ya take any fuckin' longer." Seconds. A minute at best. Today was the day to count the seconds.

A look was given to Xavier's tow. Who are you was passed for, "Is that comin' with us?"

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier had never needed to be able to read auras in order to know what his brother was feeling. Doing so would have been something akin to checking for a probability of rain when you were caught in a downpour.

Rhetorical questions didn’t require an answer, but Xavier would by way of tossing an oddly shaped gold talisman to his brother. “Put that in your pocket. It’ll restore you.”

“It sure fuckin’ is,” Ramsay said with only the appearance of cheerfulness.

Xavier nodded towards the street. “Which way to the mage?”

Mason: "Lawrence knows the way. Either I'm takin' all of us or we're takin' his truck." That being said, the talisman was stuffed in his pocket without question. Some things with Xavier were indisputable.

Xavier: “Cars are too slow,” Xavier said as he took Ramsay’s hand and held the other out to Mason. And short distances didn’t require too much effort.

Mason/Leslie: Xavier's hand was taken just long enough to disappear, reappearing at the end of a long driveway surrounded by trees on either side. The dirt path opened up to a meadow-facing lawn and a large A-frame home, a white picket-fenced garden on either side. A white Toyota sat quiet and warm in the driveway. Someone had just gotten home.

Both the doorbell and fist were utilized. History of retaliation from Leslie's mind kept his telepathy at bay. He needn't wait long before the door opened. A man of over six feet stood before them in a rolled-up blue tartan shirt and blue jeans, surprise high and tight on his brows.

"Uh... hi? Where's Charles?"

Having to tell a witch he needed his assistance tasted like blood in Mason's mouth. For his husband, he would do anything.

"He's... missin'. Taken. We need your help," he managed. The plastic tube of Charles' blood was pulled from his coat.

The witch stared for a moment, processing. When? How could anyone possibly take Charles, and why? He remembered the laboratory and answered his own question.

Blue eyes glanced at the others, but paid them no mind.

"Come in."

Xavier/Ramsay: It was obvious immediately that a witch lived here. The scent of magic was a living, palpable thing, easily detected by someone like them.

A very promising sign.

Almost as one, Xavier and Ramsay gave Leslie nods in greeting. Xavier looked somewhat apologetic, but Ramsay looked unabashedly curious.

“Thank you,” the demon said quietly, waiting for his brother to enter before he did. “Pardon the lateness of the hour.”

Mason/Leslie: "It's important," he muttered. "Please," he gestured to the living room. A chef's coat had been tossed over the couch. Shoes discarded by the door. Herbs and flowers hung to dry in the kitchen, visible from the living room with its open layout.

Their host stood with his back to them, fingers fidgeting, one might assume a spell if paranoid.

"We're looking for... for - he's alive, isn't he?"

"Yes," said Mason, firmly.

Shoulders visibly relaxed. "I'll be right down." Already jogging to the stairs.

Xavier: Xavier couldn’t tell if Mason’s curtness was due to the gravity of the situation or to some personal issue he had with the mage but he wasn’t about to ask. It was just something to ponder while they waited for their host to return.

Alive, yes. Charles was alive. He had to be. Logic dictated that whoever had gone to such trouble to take him wouldn’t have done so if they planned to kill him.

Logic, not faith.

“How did Charles meet this man?” Xavier wondered aloud as he took in their surroundings.

Mason: It was a combination of conflict. He would not lean weight on the idea of his death, not an ounce, until laying eyes on his corpse. He would not hear it from anyone else, much less a witch.

"On a train," Mason sighed. "Doin' everything he can to... " Such things they had bickered about. Felt trivial this moment. Find him tomorrow feeling differently.

"Was teachin' Charles spells."

Xavier: “That tracks,” Xavier said quietly, smiling to himself. “Theo always tells me—” He caught himself and sighed. “He always used to tell me how much Charles enjoys learning new things.”

Mason: Mason wasn't about to correct him. Reminded him too much of Charles at the moment. No, he wouldn't dare correct tenses.

"Told him he was doin' too much. Gave up after a while. Started showin' him mirror magick. Just tricks. Made him... happy."

Xavier: “I’m sorry to say you were never going to win against Charles’ love of learning, Mai. He has a sharp mind. He needs to keep it fed.”

That sharp mind would help him, Xavier was sure of it. No matter where Charles was, as long as he had life, the demon was certain he could handle himself until Mason came for him.

“He’ll have more to learn after this.”

Mason/Leslie: "Right." Still confounded why Charles hadn't used his ring. Must have been swift and horrific. No scenario he could fathom was worth lingering on when none of them could be true. In the end, Charles simply couldn't reach his ring. They would have to find something else from this day forward.

Leslie came down without a word, rolled-up vellum under his arm, old pair of boots on his feet. With a sniff, he held out his hand for the vial.

Seeing the reluctance in the demon's eyes, the witch took a deep uneven breath, shoulders rose from the effort.

"You're gonna have to trust me, and... you're gonna have to take me with you."

"Where?"

"Close as you can to where you think he is."

Xavier: Xavier had expected the mage to come downstairs equipped with far more than what he had, which only piqued his curiosity.

“Does it have to be where we think he is?” Xavier chimed in. “Will the ritual work if we take you to the last place we’re certain he was?”

Leslie: "The further I am from him, the longer this'll take. So if you have any idea, any location. I'm accustomed to porters, not..." He gestured to the demon.

Xavier/Ramsay: Now it was Ramsay’s turn to chime in.

He gave Leslie a little wave and tipped an invisible hat. “That’d be me, then. We can tell you where the professor last was and where his phone last was but nothing more.”

Xavier nodded. “There’s no trace that we can defect.”

Mason/Leslie: Again his fingers twitched, fleeting confusion in his eyes and brows. There was something lost on him when the demon spoke, but he would not say.

"Alright." One last thing, then. He turned back to the kitchen and grabbed a granola bar from a basket of snacks, pocketed.

"Let's go." He looked to the porter expectantly, sniffed.

"First one's free," Mason said, grabbing the witch by the shoulder and disappearing back to the road in New York.

Xavier/Ramsay: Ramsay didn’t get a chance to even begin his ritual before Mason and the mage disappeared. “Oi! What the—!”

Xavier just shook his head and took John’s hand. It wasn’t what he would have done but he could hardly blame his brother for being impatient. He only hoped it hadn’t swayed the mage from helping them.

“Never mind, John. You can bring him back when he’s done. Are you ready?”

Ramsay nodded. “Go on.”

Presuming Mason hadn’t seen the point in going back to the alley behind the hotel, Xavier returned them to the highway.

Mason/Leslie: They would find the witch hunched over a young tree, head down and knees bent. Had been so long since teleportation, so long since seeing Charles that his body seemed to have forgotten.

But he forced himself upright, took a deep uneven breath through his nose, and spit.

His back remained to the group as he set to work. A bone and gold folding knife was pulled from pocket and opened, used to tear pieces of the flesh paper. The delicate sounds of ripping stifled by the relentless traffic.

He held his hand out again.

"This is all we have," said Mason.

"It's all I'll need," Leslie replied.

The vial was finally handed off, opened, and dripped onto the small bit of parchment. Just two drops. The calfskin was folded over itself and placed underneath the mage's tongue.

At once he crumbled. Shoulders rounded dead weight. Sitting upright on his knees by sheer force of will. Every muscle in his body felt loose. Throat dry. Breathing even and yet not enough. They might not understand his actions, but punching his own chest was important. Just maybe Charles would feel the same.

Charles: His eyes snapped open, wide and red-rimmed. White light blazed from everywhere. His gasp was more a strangled wheeze. His throat was on fire. His chest. He reached for the tubing he could feel grating against his throat, but his hand stopped short.

He was... bound. Bound. Arms. Legs. Chest. He twisted against his restraints. The hammering of his heart was matched by shrill beeping that drowned out all thought.

No. He could think. Despite the searing brightness, he let his gaze sweep first one way and then another. He was in... an ambulance? And he was moving. Bound to a gurney going God knew where. He renewed his efforts to fight against the straps that lashed him.

A gentle voice let out a string of curses from behind him. He'd only just made note of the IV needle sticking from his arm when a pair of gloved hands pierced the injection port with a syringe full of... something.

And the world went dark once more.

Xavier/Ramsay: Easily avoided nausea, Xavier thought as he joined his brother. Not that he would say a word or allow that thought any sort of projection. He had absolutely no room to judge Mason's impatience.

And besides, his time was better spent observing what he could of the utterly fascinating spell the mage was performing.

Blood, paper, and proximity. Was the spell forging a connection? Was it allowing the mage to see what Charles saw? If it was the former, the spell was not unlike the bond between familiar and magic user. If it was the latter, this might be a bit more difficult.

Beside him, Ramsay was observing just as closely, with just as much fascination.

Mason/Leslie: Long fingers slid over his chest, rubbed and scratched at his throat, then fell to his arm, rubbing with the same gentle vigor. Something was crawling all over him - Charles. Him.

This was only his second use of the tracking spell. Botan Nowicki didn't even make the attempt. He didn't need to. Seemed to know where everything was at all times. A twist of his finger and he had his answers, always. Something about his grasp on primal energy. The Ether mage would have been useful. He owed Charles that much.

At this moment, Leslie's confidence was only a budding remnant. The last time he had been sent on a hunt he had been caught, forced into a boon.

Three fingers rubbed against his temple, head tilting and eyes closing. Deep breath. No time for that.

"How long has it been since he was here?"

"An hour," was just off the top of Mason's head.

Judging the road, this seemed a major highway. "Take me... take me 80 miles that way."

Xavier/Ramsay: Ramsay was quicker this time. He was at Leslie's side in a flash, situating himself between the mage and any funny ideas Mason might have of more teleportation. "X, can you--?"

"Already checking." Xavier pulled up a map on his phone and input the distance they'd need to go and checked to see what was around. Even though it was night and they had the cover of darkness, they couldn't just appear in an area that might be potentially crowded with people.

He scanned the area for a safe landing spot and showed it to Ramsay. "Here."

The witch nodded. "Right then. Come on, you lot."

Mason/Leslie: Leslie looked between the two, to the man that had already outstretched his hand to take him, held off by his rescuers. Only to realize he didn't know either of their names.

"Leslie," he muttered. "What - What kind of porter are you? I don't feel... feel any nodes here."

Xavier/Ramsay: "John Ramsay, at your service," said the witch, giving Leslie a quick, boyish grin as he pointed to one of the many rings on his fingers. "The kind that carries a different sort of magic. We'll swap stories later." When circumstances were less dire and when he wasn't certain Mason would take a shot at him if he didn't make haste.

After ensuring that they were all together, Ramsay completed his ritual and took them all precisely 80 miles away, as Leslie had requested.

Their landing spot was another alley, abandoned save for a few rats scrounging their dinner from a pile of garbage.

Mason/Leslie: Sounded like a protagonist from an epic tale. A throwaway thought as he watched the porter create his spell. So different from Tyson Wright. It was a wonder he could do anything next to a major highway, but that was also a pending thought as they disappeared and reappeared. Much less nausea, but the same flip of his insides as he was accustomed.

He forced himself to his feet. Fingers gravitated to his temple again, but this time was pulled away. They didn't belong there. They didn't belong anywhere. He itched at his wrists and turned, absorbing their surroundings.

"Well?"

"Patience," said Leslie, gently. "We're heading in the right direction."

The witch readjusted his jaw, felt at his mouth with his tongue, and began the ritual over.

Xavier: It suddenly struck Xavier that they were going through roughly the same experience Abel had gone through the night he had rescued Xavier from the church.

Was this how his familiar had felt, wandering with desperate purpose to find him? Not knowing what was going to meet him at the end of his journey? They had the benefit of having each other but Abel had been alone.

Xavier took a deep breath. He’d never be able to repay what he owed.

“Which way next?” he asked quietly after a few moments had passed.

Mason/Leslie: "Need to walk."

Mason's hands had become fists.

"We don't have this kind of time."

Leslie could understand where this was coming from; he wasn't the one feeling Charles' itches, dry throat, and silent mind. He was running on faith in a man he barely trusted.

"Look, you came to me for a reason." Venomous words hesitated on his lips, tingled his tongue, but he just couldn't. "Please, trust me. What I'm feeling... gets muddled when... " He closed his eyes, pointed forward. He wasn't going to finish that sentence and frighten the group. "We're walking." He needed to feel something again. Charles was... not there. Not entirely.

Xavier/Ramsay: “Let him work,” Xavier said to his brother, daring to pat his shoulder. They couldn’t do anything if they didn’t know where Charles was and to know where he was, they needed to trust Leslie.

“Walking then,” said Ramsay, falling into step beside his fellow witch. “Just say when we need to make another leap.”

Mason/Leslie: Like touching a rounded brick. The attempt wasn't lost on Mason, just underappreciated in the moment.

Another leap would take nearly fifteen minutes. Northeast was all wrong. He turned north five minutes in, then west after that.

"What's the other chap's name?" he whispered to Ramsay.

Ramsay: The only thing stopping Ramsay from asking a barrage of questions was his reluctance to disrupt the witch's focus. Plenty of time to ask what he wanted to ask after they'd gotten the professor back safe.

In the meantime, silent observation was his lot.

"Hm?" Ramsay frowned, confused. "That's Xavier, Mason's brother. He said you'd met before."

Leslie: Leslie stopped dead in his tracks, making no attempt to hide his confusion nor his stare at the man called Xavier.

"You're Xavier Atlas?"

Xavier: Xavier stopped as well, regarding Leslie with an identical look of confusion before it dawned on him that, like nearly everyone in his life, the mage had met him before he'd gotten a new face. Although in this particular case, the lack of a meaningful connection between them meant that this realization didn't cause the dread it normally did.

The demon nodded. "Yes. I looked different when we met at my brother's wedding."

Leslie: There was a sense of relief that he wasn't mistaken. Wasn't losing all of his mind through this spell. Seeing faces perhaps influenced by Charles.

Leslie gave a singular nod, a deep breath, and pointed west.

"If one of you could... We need many miles that way."

Xavier/Ramsay: If only it was always that simple, Xavier thought to himself. He couldn't complain too much, however. It had gotten easier over the past two years.

"How many is many?" Ramsay asked, already preparing his ritual. "Another eighty?"

Leslie: Eighty miles in an hour, now considering the minutes lost, and the possibility of inhuman means, it couldn't be just any outrageous distance. Charles was closer now than before.

"We'll start with fifty."

Xavier/Ramsay: "Right you are then."

Like before, Xavier pulled up the map and found them a safe landing spot before Ramsay enacted his ritual. This time it was an industrial area not unlike the one Xavier's warehouse was located in.

Mason/Leslie: Each and every transportation was a test of Mason's will not to grab the witch by the shoulder and move them along. Limited the same way as Xavier; he couldn't simply will himself where he had never stood before. This was the leg of the journey where they relied entirely upon the power of witchcraft. But every step was now a memory etched in his teleportational power.

A name crossed his mind once more. A name he believed fortified behind a thousand bricks.

"Do y'all feel anything?" Leslie whispered.

Xavier: Xavier wasn’t all too pleased about the speed at which they were moving either but they had no choice. It would take far longer to wander around aimlessly than it was taking to be methodical.

At Leslie’s question, Xavier cocked his head and closed his eyes. Listening. Feeling. Reading the air.

After a moment, he shook his head. “Plenty, but not Charles. No magic save ours.”

Mason/Leslie: The witch turned to face the group.

"I can't get very far right now. I had him. I had him for a moment. I was able to... to wake him up."

"What do you mean wake him up?"

"He was... unconscious. That's all I know."

"You're telling me this now?"

"He's not dead," Leslie said, firmly. "I'd... I'd know that."

"What else are ya not tellin' me?"

Leslie shifted from one heel to another, rubbed at his nose before locking eyes. "Until he wakes up, there's - there's other methods, but they take time. We could reach out to Bo, maybe -"

"I've had about enough of fuckin' mages."

Xavier: "Mai," Xavier interjected softly. "We're closer to Charles now than we were before. I know we're not moving as quickly as you want us to be moving but we're making progress. Even if you can't bring yourself to trust Leslie, trust Charles."

He turned to the mage. "You said you can't get very far. Does that mean you can't track him at all or that tracking is slower because he's unconscious?"

Xavier fully expected every word he said to Mason to fall on deaf ears and depending on Leslie's answer, Xavier was going to have to make a decision, and quickly.

Mason/Leslie: "It's not impossible, but... I had him. For a moment I had him." To have lost him after the punch meant something. For a moment, he debated another solid knock to the bruise he had caused, but his gut told him not to. If they had given him something, beaten him, another force to his chest would only add to his pain.

All speculation, which was agony. And the mention of Bo had him realize he had left his phone.

"Fuck. Mason, please. We know where to return. We can find Bo. I'm - I'm sure he can help us."

"You were supposed to help." But the venom wasn't quite there. His attention was on his brother.

"Take him wherever. I've got an idea I'm gonna look into."

Xavier: Something made Xavier take his brother’s hand. A gut feeling, a premonition, something. He didn’t know. He didn’t question it. He just took Mason’s hand and squeezed it.

“Don’t do anything that’ll break Charles’ heart,” Xavier whispered, searching Mason’s eyes for any indication of what he was thinking. “Don’t do anything stupid. I can’t lose you on top of everything else. Promise me that I won’t.”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie squinted as he watched the brothers huddle, trying to remember the exact shape of the man he had seen at Charles' wedding. Had to be the situation they found themselves in, but he couldn't remember a thing. Only that the body he inhabited better suited him.

Focusing on Xavier's pale and pointed face washed a sense of calm over his entire being. This was not the first desperate time in his life, and it would not be his last.

"If we don't move, there won't be a heart to break," Mason whispered.

"Wait. Wait, wait. We've already said he's not... he's not -," Leslie sniffed, rubbed his face with both hands. He didn't want to finish that sentence yet again.

"We have time. There's another spell, but it takes time."

"Ya said that. And I said-"

"You've had enough of mages. Right. The longer we stand here the longer this'll take. I need you with me for this spell."

Xavier: Xavier looked between Mason and Leslie and squeezed his brother's hand harder. "Please, Mai. We've made it this far. He's Charles' friend, he cares about finding him." Otherwise why would Leslie have agreed to help? "You don't have to like him, you just have to trust that he's acting in Charles' best interest."

Xavier hardly knew why he was advocating so strongly for this mage whose skill he had no firsthand knowledge of. He just knew that if someone like Charles trusted him enough to call him a friend, he had to be worth his salt in at least one regard.

"What do you require for this spell?" he asked Leslie.

Mason/Leslie: The road to Hell was paved with good intentions. Just look at himself. Intentions only got someone so far.

Only just realizing Xavier still had his hand, Mason withdrew from the trio with a roll of eyes.

Remembering his lesson with Logan, Leslie knew exactly what to say.

"A ring. Has to be a real stone, green, and shiny enough to see your reflection." This was said to Mason, attention on his expression, his willingness. "You're going to have to sacrifice something. Has to be something valuable enough to hate giving up. Something that'll make you cry."

He recalled the phone call he had with his mother that day with Logan. You don't put yourself in danger. Give her the ring and send her on her way.

She would absolutely have a conniption right now.

"I've got everything else at home. These two items need to come from you."

Mason knew immediately what he needed to give, and his expression was everything bleak because of it.

"Fine. Let's fuckin' go."

Xavier: Only a situation as dire as this could turn an eyeroll into a small ray of hope. Xavier knew that coming from Mason, it was as close as they were going to get to an affirmation. He'd take it.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Xavier asked his brother, feeling such a reluctance and dread at the thought of leaving him alone. Why, he couldn't say. Maybe to stop him in case he did anything stupid. Maybe just to keep him in his sights. "Ramsay can take Leslie back to his house to get whatever he needs ready."

Mason: Mason refused to look at anyone but nodded just the same. A finger was pointed at Ramsay.

"Ya take him back, we'll meet ya there."

Xavier was given a pointed look. He had anger to spare, and no one to throw it at. His brother seemed a right punching bag at the moment, and took considerable willpower to keep his venom to himself.

"I've got some shit in New Orleans. Might be a ring there."

Xavier/Ramsay: "I'll steal one if there isn't, it's fine." Xavier kept his voice quiet and carefully neutral. Mason's anger was a palpable thing that practically made the air shimmer with its intensity like heat waves in the dead of summer. His temper was on a hair trigger, and Xavier knew that, unintentionally or otherwise, he'd set it off before the night or even the hour was up.

It made no never mind. Better he take the hits or the punches or the insults than Leslie.

"Let's go. John."

Ramsay nodded, beginning his ritual to take Leslie back to Edenton while the brothers went off to New Orleans.

Mason/Leslie: Today was not the day Mason gave any shit about thievery, but he didn't have the energy to say anything worthwhile in any measure. Only looking at his brother with the assumption they were about to argue over which would use their magick.

And when Xavier pushed them south, Mason didn't say a damn thing. With Lawrence in their company, he had enough energy for the next.

Mason pushed past the front step and to the door, which swung open with a dismissive flick of his hand.

"Shoulda said somethin' sooner," he muttered.

A hand was waved at Xavier. "Not you," he motioned to his head. "Down in the library. That angel from - before ya." Arguably before both guests in his house. "He kept a box of bullshit. Think he had a ring."

Leslie's hand flicked nervously upon returning. He didn't expect to see his boyfriend or his daughters, but he was looking both ways as he crossed the yard, expecting to see someone in the herb garden. Half the town had an open invitation. Didn't hurt to be cautious, but he knew this was nerves.

"Talk to me, please. I don't know many, uh, not Verbena."

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier simply nodded and made his way downstairs.

It wasn’t remotely of importance but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering—privately—how anyone could stomach decorating with this much white. Walls were one thing but everything else?

Small, useless thoughts to occupy his mind while he helped his brother look for this box and the ring it hopefully contained.

The atmosphere felt much less fraught without Mason’s looming presence, although the same probably couldn’t be said for Xavier, Ramsay mused.

But it was precisely those thoughts that had him saying, “Wanna start a pool about how long it takes Mason to deck one of us and which one he decks first?”

Mason/Leslie: If only Xavier knew. This apartment had been decorated with someone else in mind. The same someone this box once belonged to. Someone Mason never gave a second thought to until this very moment, thankful to have lived with a magpie with angelic wings, however briefly, to save the man that truly mattered.

"A book box," Mason muttered, feeling at each of the books surrounding the little nook area.

"It'll most likely be me. He's not going to strike his brother, and you're too close to Xavier," Leslie explained as simply as a weather prediction.

A modest hammered copper cauldron was pulled from underneath his altar. He looked over his shoulder to the wood. Just a few logs left. The spell required oak. His hands flicked again as he crossed the living room to the fireplace, tossing a blue fireball onto the single log within.

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier nodded, brow furrowed as he considered the reading nook. If it were him, and he had a box disguised as a book among his other books, he'd put it within easy reach.

He checked the shelves closest to the seat, mirroring his brother and feeling all the books until he came across one that was off.

It was pulled off and shaken to check for a rattle from within.

"Found it."

Ramsay snorted. "You haven't spent enough time with these brothers, mate. They get along now but before?" He gave a long, low whistle. "Trust you me, Mason's got no problem lumping his brother one. But..."

He considered for a moment, nodded. "Yeah, it'll probably be you first if we don't move quick enough. But you're also his hubby's mate, so maybe not. Five bucks it's you first, ten it's Xavier first."

The witch stretched and looked around. "Need any help? I'm good at hunting and gathering."

Mason/Leslie: "Partially burned oak, a cauldron, the words, the item, the ring - this won't work if Mason doesn't allow it." He could do it. He knew he could do it because he had utilized the spell before. He had more now than he had then. This would work. It had to.

He wasn't much concerned about placing an actual bet. Felt rather callous considering the situation, but would not shun what he assumed was a man's coping mechanism.

The moment the box had rattled, Mason had crossed the room to snatch it from Xavier's hands. Urgency, not malice.

Within was an old assortment of magpie treasures. Shirt buttons, a gold tooth, a splintered angelic feather, the tip of an angel's blade, a thimble, and there, as Mason had hoped, were two rings. A bent dirty gold band with the name Robert Hooper 1979 etched within, and a heavy solid jade ring.

The book box was tossed onto the cushion. The ring was examined and tested on his middle finger.

"Let's go."

Xavier/Ramsay: Leslie gave Ramsay far too much credit. His callousness wasn't so much a coping mechanism as a bid to bring levity, which in his mind was absolutely essential. Levity re-centered. It shifted focus back where it was needed. Tunnel vision, while useful, often caused more problems than it solved.

"Guessing that's oak then," he said nodding toward the fire. "So how does this spell you're gonna do work? Why does Mason need to sacrifice something?"

If Xavier didn't know any better, he'd think the box belonged to Vincent. Although there weren't nearly enough rocks for that to be the case.

In any event, they'd found what they were looking for.

"Lead the way."

Mason/Leslie: Leslie simply nodded, circling his hand over the fire to extinguish the flame slowly. His hand hovered, quietly urging the embers to cool.

"Powerful spells like this need an equivalent exchange. Being able to track what you want whenever you want sounds fantastic at first until you realize anyone can have it. Someone that shouldn't. Someone hiding from a monster has nowhere to go."

And he was giving this to a demon, rather than creating one for himself. He didn't know how far Mason would allow him to travel, and he didn't know what he would sacrifice. He didn't want to think about it. It was selfish, and -

"I'll be back." He was heading back upstairs.

Leading the way meant back to Edenton. Back to the dirt driveway and the A-frame cabin. Appearing without warning, his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"When we find him, ya gonna stop me from gettin' my hands bloody?"

Xavier/Ramsay: Ramsay nodded along as Leslie spoke. “Makes sense. So does that mean that Mason is going to be the only one who’s able to use it once it’s done?” He had about a hundred more questions but they didn’t have time to get into all of them. Still, he had to indulge his academic curiosity just a little.

“All right then. I’ll be here.”

They were fortunate to be doing all this zipping around at night. Had it been day, they would’ve been spotted ten times over.

Xavier turned to his brother and shook his head. “No. Are you going to stop me from helping?”

Mason: Luckily they had minimal cloud coverage to excuse away the sudden thunder and unhinged lightning scattering across the night's sky with every unrestrained transportation. This was not the night for wasted energy.

"What's your version of help tonight?"

Xavier: Xavier looked up, considering the night sky, wondering if the magic users among Edenton’s citizens would be on high alert.

“Whatever you need.”

Mason: "I need fuckin' blood." Vengeance in one hand, with his husband in his other arm. "When we get inside n'I do this spell, I don't need ya sayin' shit t'me, okay? Just... don't stop me."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. He knew when he’d pushed his luck as far as it would go and begging Mason to allow Leslie to do this spell had been the tipping point. Anything beyond was a fool’s errand.

“Understood,” he said quietly.

Mason/Leslie: Leslie was returning downstairs by the time the demons walked through his living room. The door had been left unlocked on purpose. On a night like tonight it was necessary, though he would be considering wards in the near future.

The witch pinched the bridge of his nose, sniffed, and sighed. Both hands combed through his hair and nodded his greeting.

"Let's get started."

The oak, still considerably warm to the touch, was placed diagonally in the copper cauldron. The witch then took to his knees on one side, gesturing to Mason on the other.

"What have you brought to sacrifice?"

The demon only hesitated a moment. Hand hovering over the collar of his shirt.

"Has to be something you're going to regret." Leslie felt a need to emphasize. "This spell will fail otherwise."

Dark eyes closed. His shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a raised X scar over his heart. The sight caused the Verbena to straighten, feeling more inexplicably alive in those seconds than he had since their arrival.

"What - "

A knife was pulled from a sheath in Mason's boot, the tip brought directly to the edge of the scar and circled. No screams, no curses, only heavy panting as he turned from the group to finish carving.

Xavier/Ramsay: Until Leslie asked the question, it hadn’t hit Xavier that he and Mason hadn’t retrieved anything but the ring. That meant that whatever Mason was going to sacrifice was something already on his person.

Xavier wouldn’t get a chance to wonder what that could be, however, because the moment the thought formed in his mind, Mason was undoing his shirt. Then, before there was time to process the scar on his chest, there was a blade in Mason’s hand and in the next breath, the blade was carving into his flesh.

This was why Mason had asked his brother not to say anything or try to stop him. This had always been his intention.

Even though Mason angled his body away, Xavier still turned his head and closed his eyes. It wasn’t the sound so much as the mental image it conjured. He tried taking a deep breath but the smell of burnt wood lingering in the air only made it worse.

He barely lasted a moment before he was practically bolting out the door.

Ramsay started to go after him but instead opted to turn to Leslie, face grim.

“Where do you keep your cups?” he asked quietly, trying his best to ignore what Mason was doing in his periphery.

Leslie: This was not the Verbena's first time seeing blood. The witch didn't so much as flinch his eye. Blood was the reason he wasn't known as a Hermetic mage. Blood was why he could transform into an owl with relative ease.

And there was nothing he could do to heal a demon, so he didn't bother offering. Only looking up as Ramsay spoke, pointing towards the kitchen.

"First cabinet when you walk in."

Xavier/Ramsay: Ramsay nodded once and headed for the kitchen. He got a glass from the indicated cabinet, filled it with water, and went after Xavier.

It didn’t surprise him to find the demon retching a little ways away from the house or to see him shaking and struggling to breathe in between.

Ramsay simply rubbed his back and waited for Xavier to get everything out. “You’re okay,” he murmured in a voice he’d only used with his younger siblings and Devlin when he was a baby. “You’re all right. You’re not there anymore, I promise. You’re right here with me, right here.”

He offered Xavier the glass. “Rinse out your mouth.”

Mason/Leslie: Mason could think of nothing else, do nothing else until Charles' gift was removed from his body. A scar lovingly seared onto his skin with holy water on December 9th, 2019. By the time his skin was removed he was in tears. Less for the horrific mutilation; he was in mourning.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, choking on his own words. His palm pressed hard into his wound, utilizing Lawrence's pyromancy to burn the wound closed. It would make do for the time being.

"What the fuck now?"

Leslie took a breath through tight lips. "Now, you need to think about him. Think about why you're doing this. Every intention focused on your hands. While I'm chanting, place the ring, then your skin."

Leslie held his hands on either side of the cauldron.

“What is lost will now be found. With my magick you are bound. With my magick you are tied. Where you are, you cannot hide.”

The log reignited with the with the placement of the ring. The unburnt piece fell to the side as that within crumbled to ash. Blue-green flames rose in anticipation of the sacrifice. The stench was as unpleasant as it was familiar to both witch and demon.

Xavier/Ramsay: They each had their own methods for helping Xavier get through these rough episodes. They being what MJ called their coterie, of course. Ramsay may not have had the most delicate touch, but he knew what he was about nonetheless.

After all, there had been ample opportunities to practice.

He continued to rub Xavier's back even after he straightened, encouraging him to finish the glass of water after he'd rinsed his mouth out. Getting that breathing under control was the next order of business, then the shaking. Ramsay regrettably didn't have his tried and true method of calming on him at the moment, so counting breaths would have to do.

When Xavier had calmed, Ramsay pulled out his cigarette case and lighter. "Let's get that taste out of your mouth. Menthol or clove?"

"Menthol," Xavier said absently, staring off at nothing.

A menthol cigarette was lit and handed over, then a second for himself.

"Gonna finish this and then I'm gonna head inside," Ramsay said after the first drag. "You just stay here, okay? I'll come get you when we have to move again." He took Xavier's free hand and rested it on the grass they were sitting on. "You're not in the church anymore. You've got grass under your feet. Not carpet, not stone. Just grass. You're okay. You're here with me and your brother. You're safe."

Xavier nodded and fisted his hand in the grass.

"There's a lad." Ramsay squeezed the demon's shoulder and joined him in staring at nothing.

A few minutes later, he slipped back inside without a word.

Leslie: The spell was complete by the time Ramsay returned. Every speck of ash cleared from the cauldron, absorbed into the ring itself. The air was clear of the stench of burning flesh; the house had the same scent as before the ritual. The scent of pastries, lavender, cedar, and only a trace of the fireplace.

Leslie was slumped on the kitchen floor. An apple in one hand and the crumbled wrapper of a granola by his hip. He was staring off at nothing, the demon nowhere to be found.

Ramsay: Ramsay’s brow furrowed. Had Mason already run off to rescue Charles?

The witch took the empty glass to the kitchen, only to find yet another person with a thousand-yard stare.

“Mason take off or did he go take care of his wound?” he asked, going over to the sink to wash the glass. He almost hoped for the former.

Mason/Leslie: Leslie just shook his head and took another bite of his apple. He motioned to the back door and dropped his hand to his lap with dead weight.

"Testing the ring. Looking for his brother."

Which he had, with ease. Following the pulse of green light on the ground creating the most direct walkable route to Xavier's feet.

Xavier/Ramsay: The witch nodded. He doubted it would happen, but he really hoped Mason wasn’t looking for Xavier just to make him feel worse.

“What about you?” he asked Leslie. “You good, mate? No offense but you look like you’re about to keel over.”

Xavier wasn’t hard to find. Ramsay had sat him on the lawn close to the house and that’s exactly where he’d remained. One hand in the grass and the other on a cigarette.

He looked up at his brother’s approach, eyes falling to his chest.

Mason/Leslie: His shirt partially hid his wound, his hand covered the rest. Keeping pressure over his heart did little, but it was a comfort.

"It works." He didn't know what else to say. His warning hadn't been given in anticipation of this response. He just stood there, waiting for some reaction.

Meanwhile, Leslie shook his head with embarrassment.

"Diabetic. Working on it." In more ways than one.

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier nodded. That was part of the battle done and dusted.

He finally let go of the grass to offer his brother a cigarette. He looked like he could use it.

“Ahhhh.” Ramsay nodded. “That apple gonna be enough? Seems like a job for a sandwich.”

Mason/Leslie: "There's grape juice in the uh - the fridge. Please. Don't need a glass."

The cigarette was given the deepest inhale Mason could muster.

"I dunno what I'm supposed to say," he confessed.

Xavier/Ramsay: “You got it.” Ramsay got the juice and handed it over, taking a seat beside Leslie. Apparently it was a ‘sit on the floor while you got yourself together’ kind of night.

Xavier shook his head and lit another. “You don’t have to say anything. Do you need something to heal the wound faster?”

Mason: "I'll fuck with it when it's over. We need to get movin'. The witch's done. We're leavin' him here."

Xavier: Xavier nodded and got to his feet. “Are you opposed to John joining us?”

Mason: "Is your man gonna get his hands dirty or not?"

Xavier: Another nod. “Yes. He has before and he’s willing again.”

Mason: "Fine." The more energy between them the better. But he looked at his brother again. Really looked at him.

"Just leave him with me. Ya should go home."

Xavier: “I don’t need to go home, I’m fine.” He’d done a lot more feeling a lot worse than this. He wasn’t exactly the image of composure and vengeful intent he would’ve liked to be but no one got what they wanted all the time.

Besides, being a little pale and a bit haunted-looking behind the eyes wasn’t going to be a problem until he tried to sleep which was hardly a priority at the moment.

Xavier sent Ramsay a message telling him to come outside.

Mason/Leslie: He could try and be a big brother again tomorrow when his husband was someplace safe. If Xavier insisted he was fine, then that would have to be enough. For now.

"Fine," he repeated.

But it wasn't just Ramsay walking out the front door. The Verbena hobbled close behind, fiddling with the Dexcom on his arm.

Ramsay: “We all set to go then?” Ramsay asked, slipping his phone into his pocket as he approached the brothers.

Nothing seemed amiss between them. A good sign.

Mason/Leslie: A finger was pointed at the witch. "What are ya doin'?"

"I'm fine. I'm coming." Two chocolate bars were pulled from his back pocket. See? He would do fine. He'd already taken insulin. Not that it was anyone's business.

A look was given to Xavier, but he was in no position to argue.

"Let's get back."

Xavier: Xavier was hardly in a position to judge how ‘fine’ anyone was or wasn’t at the moment. If Leslie wanted in, who was he to object.

He nodded toward his brother’s hand. “Which way is the ring telling us to go?”

Mason: He was about to run out of patience, having expected Ramsay to already start his ritual. He took a forced breath. "Where we were last. Let's just fuckin' get there."

Ramsay: “Copy that,” said the witch, completing his ritual as quickly as he was able and taking the four of them back to the industrial area from which they’d departed earlier.

Mason/Leslie: Leslie would have his fill of this mode of transportation for a year if he could help it, but he knew it wouldn't last that long with Charles' return. Everything was about the next moment, and then the next moment. He didn't know how he'd feel when finally laying eyes on Charles. Even now, he'd yet to process his feelings.

Mason's hand was out in front of him the moment they arrived, and Leslie began tearing into the skin parchment for his own tracking spell. One would point the direction while the other signaled their nearness.

Xavier/Ramsay: Ramsay was just here to play his role as magical chauffeur. He’d take them where they pointed and in between, he’d stick to Xavier’s side like glue and check up on him as subtly as he was able.

For his part, Xavier was glad to assist in finding them safe landing places for every leap they made, all the while wondering what it was exactly that they were about to walk into. Not that it really mattered. Whatever it was, it would be dealt with swiftly and violently and at Mason’s hand.

Charles: It was the chill in the air that woke him. Slowly, at first, then all at once. His pulse spurred into a gallop as the night’s events flashed through his mind. It took a few moments of measured breathing to settle into the quiet calm that he’d mastered over the decades. Panic would solve nothing. If he wanted to get himself out of… whatever this was, he needed to think.

When the roil of his emotions had been shoved deep beneath a placid surface, Charles opened his eyes.

Blinking against harsh fluorescent light, his gaze swept slowly from side to side. He appeared to be in a hospital room. Though small and sterile, it seemed to have been designed with some degree of comfort in mind. The bottom half of the otherwise white walls were painted a soothing mint green. A tan armchair sat to one side, below a blandly abstract painting of interlocking shapes. The small white drawer on the opposite side of his bed held a carafe of water and a glass, along with a vase of cheerful yellow tulips.

Indeed, the entire space was about as welcoming as a medical setting could be. He might have thought himself safely recovering from a timely rescue, had it not been for the restraints that held him fast to the bed. He snorted softly at the irony.

There were no windows to be found, but a door sat closed on the left side of the wall opposite him. Closed and locked, no doubt. He had to be in an interior room. Or perhaps underground. Far from stuffy, however, the room was positively freezing. A massive vent behind him pumped dry, icy air into the small space.

That explained the gooseflesh that had pimpled along the skin of his exposed forearms.

Odd.

Yes, his forearms were bare. He took another deep breath and swallowed bile as he realized that he’d been changed from his comfortable, academic attire into loose cotton trousers and shirt, both pale blue. His shoes were gone. As were each of his rings. There would be no summoning Mason to his aid.

Charles/Haine: He let his eyes shut for a moment, refusing to let thoughts of his husband send him into a spiral. He had no idea how much time had passed since his abduction, but surely Mason was aware of his absence, by now. The worry his husband must have been experiencing didn’t bear dwelling on. Not if Charles wanted to remain steady enough to get back to him.

With yet another calming breath, he resumed his quiet examination. He pushed past the beginnings of a migraine to unfurl his power. The utter silence that greeted him was no surprise, but he still swallowed bitter disappointment. Beneath pleasantly painted plaster, the room must have been lined with psionic blocking panels.

His gaze had just snagged on the steady tally light of a surveillance camera in one corner of the room, when the sound of a bolt clicking had his head snapping to the door.

He kept his expression perfectly bland as a man stepped into the room. He was dressed as any practicing physician might be, pressed grey slacks and blue shirt beneath a crisply white lab coat. A dull metal band encircled his head, and the telepath knew without checking that it was a psionic blocker.  He was perhaps two decades Charles’ senior, his salt-and-pepper hair trimmed short and perfectly pomaded into place.

Under less fraught circumstances, Charles would’ve found him distractingly attractive.

The man’s greeting smile was broad and warm, bright hazel eyes crinkling at their corners. There wasn’t a hint of duplicity in his expression as he approached, pulling the door shut behind him as he did. The audible ‘click’ of the lock was automatic.

“Professor Xavier!” His tone was as open and friendly as the rest of him. Charles didn’t trust him for a moment. “I’m Dr. Christopher Haine. I’ve been following your research for a very long time. Your first published article was the single most influential piece of writing on genetics in my lifetime, at least. It’s truly an honor to meet you.”

Charles/Haine: Charles sniffed at Haine’s outstretched hand, his expression still entirely indecipherable. “There are simpler ways to schedule an appointment,” he croaked. His throat flamed, raw from disuse and a breathing tube he vaguely remembered being inserted.

The doctor merely chuckled at Charles’ cheek, claiming the armchair at his bedside like he was an old friend and not his bloody kidnapper. It took effort to keep his indignation from cracking his facade.

“I suppose so. But something tells me you would have rejected my invitation before you’d had a chance to truly consider my proposition. Your little organization burning down one of my facilities and stealing the patients there sent a pretty clear message.”

Charles blinked. This man was a complete stranger to him. His team had put an end to many an operation in the past, but he preferred to avoid outright destruction. It was bad for public image, and he always wanted as few casualties as possible.

Oh.

Oh.

“New Hope,” he wheezed, the realization bringing with it a wave of icy rage. His bound hands trembled with it, and he had to clench them into fists to keep from wrestling against his restraints.

Not the team, then. Mason. Exerting himself to the point of collapse to save a group of defenseless children. Their children. Yes, that horrible place had been burnt to cinders, and Charles didn’t regret it for a second.

He shook the memories from his head, confusion cracking his careful facade. “But, Scott…”

“Ah, yes.” Haine nodded, looking unaffected at the mention of the man driven mad by his own cruelty. He waved a dismissive hand. “A wealthy donor willing to facilitate our mission. Nothing more. Though, it was unfortunate to lose his funding.”

Charles shook his head. Any hope at hiding his emotions had vanished. Disgust and ire warred for dominance on his face. “You’re a monster.”

Charles/Haine: For the first time since he’d entered the space, the kindness in Haine’s eyes seemed to falter, replaced by a fervor that bordered on delirium.

“No. No, not a monster. A doctor. A scientist. You of all people should understand, Charles. You wrote it, yourself! Mutants are the next stage of human evolution. The potential for progress is… it’s limitless! Extraordinary strength and speed, superhuman cognitive abilities, infinite cellular regeneration! Imagine if we could tap into that genetic code, Charles. If we could harness it. We’d be looking at an end to aging, to disease, t-to death itself!”

Charles stared at Haine in open horror. The manic zeal in his hazel eyes was a dark mirror of the professor’s own passion. The man truly believed himself a hero; Charles knew better. He’d never been able to forget those gruesome photos: small bodies splayed out on lab tables in various stages of dissection. He pushed those thoughts aside before he could heave up bile from his otherwise empty stomach.

“By killing children.”

“A tragedy, of course.” The bastard looked genuinely remorseful. “But a necessary one, for what we hope to achieve. Millions of lives saved. Billions!”

“How Utilitarian of you.”

“Listen, Charles, as much as I’d enjoy a good philosophical debate, that isn’t why I brought you here.”

He scoffed. “No, I suppose not.”

“Our mission is bigger than any one person. Bigger than me.” The ‘or you’ went unspoken, but Charles heard it, all the same. “Unfortunately, progress is slow, with our current recruitment methods. As you might imagine. We plan to utilize your impressive abilities to… expedite the process.”

Charles felt his heart stutter to a stop. Though Haine continued laying out his plans, the telepath could hear nothing beyond the ringing in his own head.

No.

Nonononononono.

Charles/Haine: Cold sweat broke out over his face and neck, and the ever-present chill in the room settled deep into his core. He couldn’t feel it. Nor did he note the full body tremble that had taken hold of him. He was only aware of the icy terror that had gripped him at those words. His deepest, most private fear mentioned as casually as a plan for dinner. That he’d be used as a weapon against his own people.

He’d sooner die.

Had a plan in place to do precisely that, actually. But his study, and the small handgun he kept locked away inside it, were likely hundreds of miles away from wherever he was being held.

He was shaking his head before he realized it, cutting off whatever bullshit Haine was spouting. “No. You’re completely mad if you think I’m going to hunt down mutants for your sick attempt at ‘progress’. You’d have better luck carving me up for parts, like the rest of them.”

The gentle pity in Haine’s eyes seemed genuine; Had Charles been any less than himself he may have spat in the bastard’s face.

“I don’t actually need your cooperation, Professor. Although I would prefer it. Tracking down exactly who we need would prevent unnecessary loss of life. And think how useful you could be once we retrieved them! Soothing fears and easing pain. Your help would be invaluable.”

Charles/Haine: With a soft grunt, Haine stood from the armchair. Charles flinched violently as a hand came to rest almost paternally on his shoulder. “Please do consider helping our cause willingly. I’d like to get the ball rolling as quickly as possible, either way.”

He turned toward the door with a gentle squeeze to Charles’ shoulder. And though he knew it was fruitless, the telepath lashed out toward that wicked mind with every ounce of his power. It fell harmlessly against the shield. He nearly sobbed in frustration.

Somehow, he managed to keep the emotion from his voice as he rasped, “Whatever good you think will come from the sacrifice of innocents won’t save you. You’ll be damned, regardless.”

“I don’t believe in Hell.”

“Neither did I.”

Mason/Leslie: Charles’ blood underneath his tongue was too small for an honest taste, but the flavor was an unnecessary element of the tracking spell. Still, with the next piece of ancient parchment, the witch froze in place. The air around him seemed to have dropped by twenty degrees, forcing an immediate visible shiver.

What the fuck, was muttered sotto voce as he looked to the side and behind. Looking at Ramsay for any confirmation of the change. No one else had flinched.

His throat had become dry and sore. Cleared with a cough as he massaged his wrists.

And then it all clicked.

“He’s awake.” His voice felt a distance away. He shivered again. The urge to back himself into a corner was both bizarre and impossible. They were in the middle of nowhere by now.

“Can’t you feel him? Say something to him?” He recalled having heard Charles’ voice in his mind in Edenton all the way in Cameron. Surely they were near enough for telepathy.

But the crossroad demon just shook his head.

“He would have said somethin’ by now.”

“But he is. I know he is.”

“Yeah, n’somethin’s in the way. How much closer?”

Leslie closed his eyes, forced deep breaths as he held his hand out and circled his finger as he’d seen Bo do a hundred times, hoping it would somehow encourage his magick.

“More than a day’s walk. We need another fifty miles. Go from there.”

Xavier/Ramsay: Indeed, Leslie was the only one who felt a change. Ramsay felt absolutely nothing. He was looking at him but only for guidance. The moment he noticed the change in Leslie's demeanor, however, his eyes widened. Was his fellow witch finally getting something?

Xavier visibly relaxed at the word 'awake'. Charles was awake which meant that Charles was alive. They weren't too late.

"The same direction?" the demon asked, already searching for their landing spot while Ramsay locked and loaded his ritual. There was nothing on the bloody map that pointed to any sort of anything where a person might be held. Wherever Charles was, it was either extremely well-hidden or it was underground.

He said as much to the group.

"Humans don't know to ward, so that shouldn't be a problem. A cloaking spell will help us break in even if we can't see the layout of wherever we're going."

Mason/Leslie: "I can only cloak myself." Not that that went well last time, or the time before that. Mind readers caught Leslie each and every time, but with Charles' assistance the past few years, maybe not this time.

Mason didn't want to hide shit, ready to tear the door down and take every bullet walking the path to his husband, but the very real possibility of Charles being killed rather than reclaimed steadied his impatience.

"Northwest," he managed through grit teeth.

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier shook his head. “That’s not a problem.” He had enough tricks up his sleeve to conceal all four of them to varying degrees; the question was whether or not all four of them would be requiring it.

He and Mason were bulletproof to a degree. Ramsay and Leslie were not.

“Northwest,” Ramsay repeated, taking them another fifty miles closer to Charles.

Charles: The door shut with a final ‘click’. Utterly alone, Charles released a trembling breath to fight the rising panic. He willed his pulse to slow. Any hope of getting out of this would come only with a clear head.

He inhaled for a count of five, held for a count of three, released for a count of seven. Repeated. And again. He continued the cycle as his gaze found that surveillance camera once more.

He had no way of knowing how closely he was being monitored, how quickly they’d respond to any escape attempt on his part.

Though, he didn’t actually need to escape.

If this facility was even half as well staffed as the last had been, it would be incredibly expensive to arm every individual with psionic blockers. If Charles could damage the room’s paneling just enough to seize hold of a nearby mind, he could manage the rest from there.

When one wasn’t weighed down by anxiety, hospital restraints weren’t all that difficult to get free from. He scooted to one side, stretching his left arm to its limits as he reached over the edge of the bed to the rails on the opposite side. The thick, canvas straps were tricky to unlatch with a single hand, but he managed after several tense minutes. From there, removing bindings from chest, wrist, and ankles was quick work.

The tiles beneath his feet were fucking freezing, but Charles did not let that slow him. His thoughts were swift and focused as he rounded to the end of the bed, intending to use it as a makeshift battering ram against the back wall.

He froze at the deafening ‘click’ of the lock, but only for a moment. In for a penny. He pushed the bed toward the wall at a sprint, ramming into it with a satisfying crunch of drywall. Chalky, mint-painted chunks of it fell away, just a hint of dull metal peeking through.

Charles/Haine: Grunting, he made to haul the bed back again when a familiar pair of tree-trunk arms wrapped around him.

Fuck.

He’d already learned that wriggling free from that grip was beyond his capabilities, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try. He fought fruitlessly with every ounce of his strength as he was turned to face the deep frown of Christopher Haine.

The doctor tutted, shaking his head, sounding for all the world like a disapproving father.

“Really, Charles. You disappoint me. I was hoping you’d understand the significance of our undertaking, here.” A sigh. “No matter. We have to press forward.”

Charles/Haine: His gaze shifted to the man behind him, dismissing Charles entirely. “Ian, help our Professor here back to bed. And… ensure that he can’t make a run for it. It’s really only his brain we need intact.”

The implication of that statement chilled Charles to the bone and had him redoubling his efforts for freedom. He managed to loose a single arm, ramming it back to check his captor with an elbow to the gut. A deep, gratifying grunt was his reward for the maneuver, and he used the temporary lapse to pull himself away completely, stumbling to the hard ground.

He only vaguely registered the sound of soft footsteps retreating, the shutting and locking of the door. He clambered to his feet and spun to face the man –Ian, the doctor had called him– seeing him full-on for the first time.

He was unsurprisingly massive, slate grey hair cropped close and mostly covered by a thick, black helmet. He was armed to the teeth, but didn’t bother drawing a weapon as he reached for Charles. The telepath had no time to appeal to the man’s reason, pulling back a fist to knock him hard across the jaw.

The impact was solid. Decent enough. But Ian’s answering blow had him slamming into the tile once more, vision blurred and head swimming. A second punch nearly sent him under. Ian seemed to recall Doctor Haine’s warning about keeping his brain in one piece, because the next strike was aimed towards his ribs.

A booted foot drove into his torso over and over. It was all Charles could do to scramble away, curling in on himself in a pitiful attempt to protect his vitals. Without a word, Ian hefted him bodily from the ground and dumped him onto the medical bed.

“You don’t have to do this,” Charles rasped, as he was rearranged like a ragdoll onto the firm mattress. Ribs that were most definitely cracked wailed in protest, but he ignored them. “I have a family. Two little kids that deserve to see their father again.”

Charles: Ian set about strapping him into bed once more, expression impassive. Charles changed tactics.

“What information did Haine provide about me? Whatever he’s paying you, I can double it. Triple it, even.”

In the answering silence, he briefly considered moving on to threats. But he was in no position to act on them, and Mason couldn’t possibly know where he was, yet. If he did, this place would already be ashes.

Ian pulled a set of handcuffs from one of the many pouches along his belt, shackling Charles’ right wrist to the bed. If he made a second attempt, he’d have to formulate a new plan.

Charles: At last, he was fully secured to the bed. More firmly than last time. Ian seemed to hesitate for a moment, something akin to compassion tightening the corners of his mouth. He pulled a small, black cylinder from his belt, which expanded into a baton with a flick of his wrist.

His voice was gruff, but his tone unexpectedly gentle. “I’ll try t’make it a clean break.”

Without further preamble, he swung the baton down swift and brutal over the telepath’s right shin.

Charles screamed.

Leslie: The room was acrid. The stench of incense and blood flooded Leslie’s senses the moment he entered Belmira’s bedroom. Suzette sat at the head of the bed. Merlot and green sheets bunched in Belmira’s arms curled up against the telepath’s chest, rocked like a child. It was unlike Suzette not to meet his gaze, but the circumstances – in that circumstance, he hadn’t considered anything amiss.

Belmira whispered a retelling of events. Of a man named Leo Rosa and his many violations of her mind and body. A friend of the family. The shame and guilt tore her to shreds, unable to look at him, refusing a single touch of comfort. The blood beneath her fingers, the hair still clutched in her white-knuckled fist taken by Suzette with whispered apologies.

An innocent man had been nearly ripped in two. A learned spell from the very woman to have deceived him. A man mutilated so horrifically by Leslie's hand it took the combined effort of four blood mages to mend. Suzette and Belmira had insisted they did not mean for such carnage. They did not mean for their trial to end in so much bloodshed, but not one of their coven looked to Leslie for an apology. Not Edwin, Troy, or Tonya demanded repayment in blood. They had known, the same as Suzette, what Belmira was doing. No one would speak of this incident. Leo would never remember. His crime would go unpunished. Each and every one had proven their devotion to the coven. Each one with their own private crimes. All save one. Their most loving and gentlest member.

Suzette and Belmira were left unscathed by their vulgar escapade. Never once took pity on the tears Leslie shed. They just wanted his loyalty in action. Insisting again and again this was his reality. He was their hand of vengeance, and he was beautiful.

Mason/Leslie: And here, nearly a decade later, Leslie sampled another drop of Charles Xavier’s blood. Dull blue eyes had taken on a brighter hue, glossed over and on the verge of tears he could not explain.

Mason had noticed the change in his eyes. They were his husband’s eyes, and looking at them sent shooting pain through his encrusted wound.

“Awake?”

“I’d rather not be asleep, but this is worse.”

Dark eyes lingered over the witch as the ring pulsed. More miles to go, but the pale green light had widened its path, just as Leslie had explained it would upon nearing his desire.

“Hell is hopelessness, isn’t it?”

“As far as the eyes can see.”

“I’m thinking about Hell.”

“Sayin’ he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me?”

“Thinking everything all at once.” Leslie pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. Teeth had become clamped, biting into his cheek to the point of blood. Refusing to verbally acknowledge the excruciating pain cascading up his shin to his groin and spine. These two conditions were going to collide. The increase in Leslie’s body temperature, dilated pupils, and pounding heart. No, no. Charles’ heart was already slamming into his chest. He didn’t have to play the game of which came first.

“I’ve never felt so close to him. He’s right there. Another fifty and we’re there.”

Xavier/Ramsay: Ramsay looked from Leslie and Mason to Xavier and gave him a grim nod. They were finally at the point of no return.

Xavier returned the nod and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a length of braided, gossamer black silk. Woven into the silk with fine gold thread was a spell in ancient Arabic that Xavier knew by heart.

"We need to conceal ourselves," he said, pulling a strand from the braid. "If Leslie is correct and fifty more miles will get us to Charles, then we're about to encounter guards and security measures from the moment we arrive. They cannot under any circumstances detect anything amiss."

The demon tied the strand of silk around Ramsay's wrist and murmured the incantation. A haze began to form over the witch as Xavier spoke that grew more and more opaque until he disappeared from view completely.

Xavier pulled another strand from the braid and held out his hand for Leslie's wrist.

Charles/Haine: He was only vaguely aware of Ian's departure. Breathing exercises to manage the pain of his fractured tibia caused his ribs to flare. The lesser evil, he supposed.

Such was his distraction, he did not realize that Haine had returned until he felt a gentle hand press to his forehead. He flinched away from that contact, and then again at the resulting pain.

"Oh, Charles. I hate to move forward with you in this condition, but you did bring this on yourself. "

Charles glared up at the man as best he could with the entire left side of his face rapidly swelling. The pain was secondary to the overwhelming rage he felt in this man's presence. He refused to dignify his false sympathy with a response.

It was a silence that he maintained even as he was wheeled from the room and into a glaringly bright hallway. They were joined by a slender woman, her thick, blonde hair twisted up into a bun and crowned with another of those fucking blockers.

Charles drowned out their clipped conversation. He struggled to ignore his pain. He was out.

Keeping his expression as impassive as he could, he unfurled his telepathy. As ever, it was the minds of his fellow mutants that shone the brightest. Their pain, anger, and despair were beacons in the dark.

He had no time for this, but he could not abandon them. He sent out a blanket soothing to every glowing mind he could reach. It would have to be enough, until he could get out of there.

He pushed his power out a bit farther, and came up against a wall. Damn. It seemed that the building itself was a barrier against his gift.

He'd have to compel someone on the inside.

Leslie: Leslie watched Xavier’s hands with a fixed expression as he worked the spell.

“We won’t be able to see each other?” was the only question that came to mind as he reached for his Dexcom, hesitating a moment before ripping the device from his arm. Everything was shut off and that would have to be enough. Abandoning his electronics completely wasn’t off the table.

That in mind, he offered his wrist.

Xavier/Ramsay: “We will,” said Xavier, tying the silk around Leslie’s wrist. “We don’t have time to get into the specifics of this spell but since the silk all comes from the same braid, we’ll be able to see and hear each other clearly. To all others we’ll be invisible and almost completely silent. Don’t speak above a whisper and you’ll be safe.”

As he repeated the incantation and Leslie began to disappear from view, Ramsay would come back into view for him.

Ramsay gave a little wave. “Neat little trick ain’t it?” he whispered.

Mason would be next.

Leslie: Leslie nodded. That was all he needed to know. A better spell than his own, by the look of things. Probably older and by the material, more expensive. Something for another day, if he would remember when the dust settles.

"Neat," Leslie swallowed. Long fingers reached out, only to retreat and rub the side of his face with a wince.

"Mason," he whispered, "something's horribly wrong."

Xavier/Ramsay: They were long past the point of wasting any time. While Xavier finished cloaking his brother and then himself, Ramsay began his ritual. They knew how far, in what direction, and exactly where they were going now.

From here on, every single move they made would have to be calculated.

Unfortunately, Xavier joined them beneath the veil of shadow just in time to hear Leslie’s ominous words.

“John,” the demon said. “We need to go now.”

Mason/Leslie: Leslie was pulling his knife out as Xavier spoke. Everyone was mentally and magically preparing and the Verbena was no exception. He expected someone would comment about the thin spiral he was cutting into his forearm, but there would be no explanation this time. Neither would there be for the removal of his boots and socks.

Mason had yet to say a word. Knowing the witch felt akin to his husband, knowing he was just within reach, in pain, possibly terrified - the demon was someplace else entirely. Reaching down into that place disallowed in Charles' presence. That circle of Hell belonging to him, where actions had no consequence.

Lawrence knew every image. That place never to have been, recognized only by the depths of his soul. The two were one in agreement.

What appeared before them was not at all what Leslie had expected. His knife was put away, hands quietly clapped and rubbed together, expanding outwards to test the strength of Quintessence.

"Ramsay?"

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier and the map he’d been consulting had been correct: Charles was being held underground.

In the demon’s experience, the more unassuming something appeared to be on the outside, the more dangerous and insidious it was on the inside. Effort had been made to make this place impossible to find and attract as little attention as possible. Whoever was in charge hadn’t even bothered to put a single guard outside.

Of course, human guards wouldn’t have been equipped to handle what had arrived at their doorstep even if they had been present.

“Yeah?” Ramsay whispered. He was staring intently at the door and twirling the ring on his pinky.

Charles: There.

A lab tech taking blood samples from a young man with a striking pair of antlers. He couldn't have been older than twenty. Charles seethed, but he would not allow himself to be distracted from his goal.

Without a psionic blocker, it was laughably easy to slip into his mind. He seized full control. Never mind the ethics of his actions. Desperate times.

The tech's eyes went glassy and his hands stilled at their task. Without a word, he left the exam room, leaving the door ajar for the confused boy to go free, if he chose.

A quick rifle through the man's thoughts and Charles knew precisely where he was. If he could just open the bunker doors, he stood a slim chance of signaling for help.

Leslie: “If… something happens to me,” Leslie swallowed, “could you please tell Tristan Seger what happened. We live together. He’ll worry.” A horrible goodbye, but it would have to suffice, should this go terribly wrong. So long as he could feel Charles Xavier, this wasn’t a hopeless endeavor. Tristan would understand. He hoped he would understand.

The people within had to believe in something. There was enough Quintessence in the area to carry his magic as if in the presence of his coven. Of course; if these people believed in Charles Xavier’s existence, then their logic had to expand beyond that of the average sleeper. But still, despite this, he could not feel a single ward.

“Y’all don’t feel anything either?” he whispered, already having to catch up with Mason's pointed gait.

Xavier/Ramsay: "Oi," Ramsay chided, turning to Leslie with hands on his hips. "None of that. Nothing's gonna happen to you, you hear me? Only five people are walkin' out of the heart of bloody darkness and it's gonna be us four and the prof, not one of them fuckin' wankstains in there doin' god knows what. The body count's gonna be on their side, not ours." Words that were sincerely meant, even if they were said in a whispered shout.

Xavier's silence could very reasonably be interpreted as him feeling out the energy of the place before them, his furrowed brow merely an indication of his concentration.

He shook his head at Leslie's question, falling into step beside him. "Nothing," he confirmed in a whisper. "They're not using magic as we are. Can you still feel Charles? Mason's ring should lead us straight to him, yes?"

Charles: He'd lost hold of the lab tech for a moment or two, distracted as he was wheeled into a poor imitation of Hank's original psionic amplifier. Tiny needles had slid beneath the membrane-thin skin of his temples and he'd writhed against the intrusion, despite his body's throbbing protests.

But he'd regained control. He prayed to any entity listening that he would be able to reach the outside world before he no longer belonged to himself.

The massive metal doors slid open, revealing an exasperated looking guard, gesturing with his weapon at the quiet night air.  He glared down at a short, auburn haired young man in a lab coat.

"I told you there's nothing out there. We're not due for another delivery for three days. And nobody told me about an extra supply drop. You need to get back inside."

From his confines, Charles reached out desperately for the nearest mind.

Mason/Leslie: Ramsay was given a look as they walked. There was every reason to believe something could happen to one of them. After all, Charles was here. The Charles. Their Charles. A man capable of controlling minds and speaking telepathically for hundreds of miles. Despite knowing with every fiber of his being that he was here, that familiar breezy hatchet, as he so lovingly named the sensation, still eluded him.

Mason’s only concentration had been on his hand and the pulse in front of him. Only considering the door when within arm’s length. No, he hadn’t felt a single ward. These people had no idea what was coming.

No show of strength. Not a ball of fire. Not a flex of telekinetic rage. The door opened as if of its own accord. Considerable patience was utilized in feeling each mind – no, not each. That ridiculous getup on the guard’s head prevented entry. The same barrier utilized in their England home. The only obstacle capable of repressing their connection. It was fucking offensive to look at, and one open-handed strike to the guard’s throat was enough of an unwelcome surprise to remove it as the guard fell heavy on his knees.

Only then did he bother reaching into the scientist’s mind.

Xavier: And here Xavier had thought he'd have to put at least a modicum of effort into breaching the door when it was so obligingly opened for them. There were some security measures out here then. Something had roused suspicion, and it was likely their shadows being picked up on a camera somewhere.

No matter, entry was entry.

The demon stepped inside quickly, walking past the downed guard and the man in the lab coat as if they were merely inconveniently placed lamp posts before urging Ramsay and Leslie to follow him.

"Stay close and behind me," he whispered to them. They may have been invisible, but taking out the guard had still made noise and it was only a matter of time before attention was drawn.

Especially given that the guard Mason had punched was not the only one in the parking garage they'd emerged into.

Charles: "What the fuck?" the guard wheezed, down on hands and knees as he struggled to drag air into his abused throat. The blow had come from nowhere, the night just as empty as it had been a moment earlier. But everyone on site was well aware of what types of beings were being held there. A mutant was definitely capable of an invisible attack. He raised a trembling hand to flag down the nearest guards, still unable to call out.

Charles had watched the entire display through borrowed eyes. Like the guard, he could see nothing, but he didn't need to understand the phenomenon to know who'd caused it.

"Mason?" The voice would be unfamiliar. The eyes vacant and staring off into the darkness.

The telepath reached farther, seeking the perfect familiarity of his husband's mind. Deep inside the facility, he swallowed a sob.

'You're here.'

Not a question.

Mason/Leslie: “Shit,” Leslie whispered, his voice barely carrying past his hand. Here he could be useful, he thought, and covered the guard’s nose and mouth with his tattooed palm. He could do nothing to the guard’s mind the way Charles could, but he could force melatonin into his system instantaneously. This is what Charles would want. He knew in his bones he wouldn’t want a pile of bodies, but ultimately, this wasn’t his decision. If this had been Tristan… he knew what he would do.

But what were they meant to do with the taciturn scientist? Mason was staring at him as though –

“Baby?” The demon whispered in a tone Leslie had never before witnessed. Desperate and relieved. He'd never heard that vulnerability from him.

Mason reached into the scientist’s mind before pushing deeper into the facility. Of course. Charles had managed to latch onto someone without a barrier, which meant he no longer needed the ring, so long as they could find each other’s minds.

‘Yeah, baby. I’ve got ya. Just hold on. Lemme see where ya are.’

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier, for one, wasn’t opposed to a pile of bodies but speed and stealth mattered more. At least until they had Charles, then all bets were off.

While Leslie silenced the guard, Ramsay rushed forward to remove any visible weapons from his person before he could get his bearings. Hopefully they got him to pass out before he managed to.

Xavier noticed the tone as well and let his eyes black out in response. With any luck, it would be enough make any security cameras they encountered glitch out until they got to Charles.

“Don’t waste time trying to open doors,” he whispered as he stalked toward the interior door. “We’re teleporting past any barriers from here on.”

Charles: He couldn't see anything. He had no idea how Mason had rendered himself invisible, and was that... Yes, that was Xavier's hushed voice he'd heard through borrowed ears. There was no time to ask questions; he'd take full advantage of whatever shrouded them and figure the rest out, later.

'Yes. Yes, all right. Follow the tech. He knows the way.'

He'd stop only once, just inside the interior doors, explaining to concerned guards that their colleague had collapsed unexpectedly. A heart attack, perhaps. Best go look after him.

The tech pushed into the brightly lit corridor, expression blank. Charles trusted Mason and his brother to keep pace. He pushed the tech to walk as swiftly as his body would allow without breaking into a run. It wouldn't do to draw attention. On that note.

'There are cameras every-bloody-where. Can you be seen through them?'

Mason/Leslie: There was no need to share space in the lab coat’s mind. Charles was plenty capable of multitasking, but Mason was still blind to his condition, and until knowing the extent of his injuries, if any, a finger was kept on the stranger’s mind.

Lawrence itched to be released, but under the circumstances, he would leave himself vulnerable without a shroud. Together, Mason’s abilities were whole.

Red eyes cast a glance to Xavier, to a nearby camera, and down the corridor they had taken.

“Still don’t understand. Moving through places you’ve never been,” Leslie whispered.

“Just shut up and follow Charles,” Mason hissed. Internally, his voice was much softer, soothing as he said, ‘Like a malfunction.’ If that. ‘Don’t worry about us.’ Was Charles going to allow him to see from his point of view? It had been his intention when asking to see where Charles was.

Xavier/Ramsay: Xavier's pitch-black gaze met his brother's blood red one and then looked directly into the camera. Whoever was monitoring would see the mass of shadow that was the four of them following the lab tech but nothing that, on the surface at least, would explain any technical glitches.

The demon's hands ached to simply flick any cameras away with his telekinesis and he had to fight himself not to. Their presence--or rather a presence--had already been noticed, the tech and the incapacitated guard were proof. All he could do was allow as much of his demonic aura as possible to permeate the air around them to force those glitches to happen.

It would fill any surrounding humans with unease, including Ramsay and Leslie, but it couldn't be helped.

Ramsay patted Leslie's shoulder and shook his head. Later. They could all have a nice chat about the wonders of teleportation later.

"Ask him how many people are around him," Xavier whispered to his brother.

Charles: Leslie?!

That was a voice he'd know anywhere. He just couldn't wrap his mind around his friend's presence here. And with Mason, no less. Another discussion that could be put off for later.

'Of course I'm going to worry about you. Be careful.'

He hesitated. Mason was under enough strain without adding Charles' pain onto his shoulders. But he was likely to cause as much stress by leaving him blind.

Reluctantly, Charles lent Mason his vision. Machines lined the walls, being tinkered with by a pair of technicians. He let his gaze sweep to Haine as he spoke in hushed tones to the blonde-haired nurse. Ian stood in one corner, well out of the way, but with his gaze locked on the telepath.

Charles deliberately avoided looking down at himself during this exchange; every sense but sight was kept under lock and key.

Mason: Electronic malfunctions accompanied demonic exposure, and so too did the sulfuric stench now saturating the body Charles inhabited. The stronger they allowed their true selves forth, the stronger they signaled their presence. Luckily for them, the only man in this building to understand the signs was tied to a bed, surrounded by walking-dead ignorance.

"Five people," Mason whispered. "We're close."

By now, the pale pulse at their feet had spanned wide, rhythmic like a heartbeat.

Xavier: Xavier didn’t like that number. They were outmanned, by a slim margin but even so, he’d feel a lot better if Charles was surrounded by fewer people.

“How does this play out?” Speaking in whispers was starting to annoy him. “I can make sure no one else enters the room once we reach it, but I need to ask if we’re the only ones walking out of it.”

Charles: Leslie had been correct in his earlier assumption about Charles. Even broken and bruised as he was, he had no interest whatsoever in a bloodbath. He wanted himself, his family, and the captured mutants out of the facility with as few casualties as possible.

It was a long shot, he knew.

'Tell your brother that there is only one armed man, here. No one else will put up much of a fight.'

Inside the room, at least.

Their mindless guide stopped dead in his tracks, whirling on his heel to face the seemingly-empty hallway. For the first time since Charles had taken hold of him, his eyes were bright with awareness and fear. He took off back the way he'd come at a sprint.

Charles: "Quite well!" he assured, his smile audible. "It's always a pleasure to hear your voice." A true statement. The faint clacking of laptop keys would be heard in the background. "How have you been?"

Theo: Theo smiled to himself as he recognized the familiar tap of keys through the phone. He could relate to the need to keep his hands busy, and even though the manuscripts were tucked back onto the shelf, that didn't stop him from pulling out completed pages of his book for editing.

"Likewise," he hummed as his pen danced over paper. "I've been great, actually! I have some time off so it's been nice to spend some time at home. How've you been?"

Charles: His smile only widened at the mention of time off. He loved a stroke of serendipity. "Thrilled to hear it, dear. I'm doing quite well. I've actually been looking to take a bit of a holiday, myself. Cee wants to see the redwoods and we're planning to spend a week out west. Mason thought it'd be a good idea to visit the family while we're there. Is that something that you all would be open to? I know you'd have to talk to Xavier, of course."

Theo: Theo's eyes lit up, and he paused mid-note as Charles explained.

"We would absolutely love to have you all here! There's plenty of room for you all to stay, and I know Devlin would be ecstatic about it. Do you want to text me the dates and I'll run them by Xavier?"

Charles: "Oh, we wouldn't want to impose. We could stay at a hotel nearby. I do think it'd be good for the kids to spend more time together, however. It's been too long since we've seen you all, living on the other side of the country." With the natures of their chosen partners, this felt more like an excuse than a genuine obstacle. No matter, they were making plans to rectify the situation. "I'll text you those dates."

Theo: "Absolutely not! We live in a literal mansion Charles, there's no reason for you all to stay at a hotel.

And I agree! Since the wedding, Devlin has made it a daily task of his to ask when he can see his cousins again. We'll have to set up more frequent visits too, I have ways of transporting myself and Devlin if we wanted to stop by without the whole family." Meaning their demon counterparts.

To travel that distance without exhausting himself would take some time and practice, especially while transporting someone with him, but he felt confident he'd be able to build up to it.

"Perfect! I'll give you a call back shortly after I talk to Xavier!" And with that Theo set down his work, and hung up the phone so he could go find his fiancé.

Charles: Charles wasn't so sure their partners would be as eager to sleep under the same roof after the estranged decades between them, but the professor had no complaints. "That's very kind of you."

The clacking of his keyboard paused as he scribbled down a note. "That'd be perfect! We have more than enough space for the kids to explore."

He nodded. A force of habit, though Theo could not see him. "All right. Talk to you then."

His mind was quick to seek out his husband's when the call ended. 'Theo's going to talk to Xavier, but he loves the idea.'

Xavier: Xavier would be found at work in his study, accompanied by Rohan, Hamilton, and various reports and ledgers. However much he prided himself on being a thief, his legitimate business interests could not be neglected. Not to mention the estate matters that needed to be tended to.

Theo: Theo poked his head into Xavier's study, knowing he'd find his love working, just as he had been only moments before.

He knocked gently on the door to get Xavier's attention, and he nodded to Rohan and Hamilton as he stepped into the room.

"My love, do you have a moment for a break so I may steal you for a few minutes?"

Mason: Mason was just in range. Traveling, it seemed, with a collection in mind. Days like these the demon made himself scarce. There would be blood on his hands. Coming down from his high would take hours if not a day in its entirety. He was determined not to leave his family alone in Cameron for more than a few hours.

'Of course - Yeah. That's... great. Cynthia will love his house. Rory can make it pink.'

Charles: Oh, and he could almost taste the effort Mason put into that false enthusiasm. Charles fought a smile and turned back to his work. 'Don't strain yourself, dear. I'll tell you how it went when you get home. I love you.'

Xavier/Rohan/Hamilton: There was a smile on Xavier's face before he even looked up from his desk.

"For you, I have endless moments. Gentlemen, if you'll leave us for a bit. Rohan, Mr. Hassan is waiting for a call."

Rohan nodded. "I'll see to it and make the reservation."

"Thank you. Hamilton, tea."

A nod from the butler and the two men filed out, shutting the door behind them.

"I'm all yours, darling."

Theo: Theo approached Xavier as the two men filed out, and with practiced ease he slipped behind the desk and into Xavier's lap. His arms wrapped around Xavier's shoulders, and he leaned forward to claim a kiss from his demon.

"How's work?" He asked as he pulled back, and his fingers teased into the hair at the base of Xavier's neck.

Mason: 'Always,' he returned. 'I won't be all night.' Cameron was an invulnerable structure. Ward after spell after blessing on his safehouse. Half of which conjured by druid hands. Still, Mason was keen on a swift collection.

His mind departed from Charles with faded grasp to the back of his neck.

Xavier: He hummed contentedly against Theo's lips and relaxed back into his chair. "Needs doing, same as usual. I'm going to Cairo to check on my investments there. I won't be gone long, only a week or so. Want to come with me? We can see the pyramids."

Theo: Theo nodded, and he stole a few more chaste kisses before pulling back.

"Things have been quiet lately, so as long as I'm not needed on a hunt, I would love to! I've never seen the pyramids, and never did I imagine seeing them while engaged. Sounds very romantic." He took Xavier's hand with his free one, and laced their fingers together so he could place them in Theo's lap. He paused, letting a comfortable silence linger for a moment before continuing.

"So Charles called me a short while ago. I haven't heard from him since the wedding!" He decided to start with, hoping it might ease Xavier into the topic.

Xavier: "I'll send Rohan to take care of it if there's even a whisper that you're needed," he said, already smiling at the thought of a working holiday. "I would love to take you with me, the pyramids are beyond extraordinary. I've been to see them twice before and they take my breath away every time. You simply need to see them."

His smile took a turn from excited to merely pleasant, but it remained in place as he let Theo take his hand. "Did he? I'm sure that was a nice surprise. Is he well?"

Theo: Theo chuckled and rolled his eyes affectionately at Xavier's offer to send Rohan. As much as he'd rather handle his job himself, he wasn't about to argue. It would be nice to enjoy a vacation with Xavier, uninterrupted by how own work. "It'll be a perfect little vacation for us then. I'll be looking forward to it!"

And now, the hard part. Theo appreciated that Xavier kept his expression pleasant at the mention of Charles, and it earned him a gentle kiss to the cheek.

"It was a nice surprise!" Theo squeezed Xavier's hand, knowing it wasn't as nice of a surprise for the demon before him. "He is well, and so are the children. They're actually why he called.

“Cee would love to see the Redwoods apparently, and they're going to be taking a family vacation to see them." Theo wanted to stress the implication that the whole family would be there. “He asked, since they'll be in the area, if we wanted to have them visit us! I told him I thought it would be an excellent idea, seeing as Devlin asks about them enough, but I would run it by you first.

“If you're amenable to it, and if it wasn't an adventure intended for the two of them and the kids, that we could all visit the Redwoods together! Devlin would love exploring there, and I'm sure he'd be beside himself with his cousins there to play with him.

“And if not- regardless, I think having them here for a visit at the house would be a good thing!" He paused before finishing his small ramble of thoughts.

"And- perhaps we could offer them some rooms to stay in while they're here? The mansion is large enough to house relatives, even on the other side of the building if that might make you more comfortable with it?"

Xavier: "Oh? Well that's nice."

That was the extent of the interjections Xavier was able to give before Theo launched into the true reason he'd wanted Xavier to take a break with scarcely any pause.

And really, it was some sort of genius. If he didn't pause, Xavier couldn't raise any objections or derail the conversation. If Xavier couldn't raise any objections or derail the conversation, Theo would be able to get his pitch out in its entirety. Genius, truly.

That being said, just because Xavier couldn't find an opportunity to cut his fiancé off didn't mean those objections weren't written all over his face.

His expression went from politely interested to polite to mildly dreading to dreading and finally to a very clear and silent 'no'.

"May I present an alternative?" he asked when Theo had finished.

Theo: Theo could see the protests written on Xavier's face the further he ventured into his pitch. He felt a little guilty not giving Xavier a chance to speak, but he couldn't stop himself from laying everything out before the other, for fear he'd be shut down immediately. And- Theo was rambling. It was hard to stop Theo once he started rambling.

He exhaled once he was finished, and nodded sheepishly at Xavier.

"Sorry, yes- of course."

Xavier: "They could not stay here, and instead I could reserve them a nice suite at one of the many lovely hotels in the state. San Francisco would be perfect. It's much closer to Muir Woods than we are and there's infinitely more to do there. The children can play and enjoy the redwoods all they like." And he and Mason would not have to share a living space. The perfect solution.

Theo: The little twinge of disappointed was visible in Theo's eyes, but if he was honest, it was the response he expected. So he nodded, knowing he'd been right- having Mason under the same roof was a non-starter.

"If seeing the redwoods is an event they'd like to share with us, what if we all stayed in the same hotel? Different rooms, obviously. Or- what if when they visited, we offered to let the kids stay here while Mason and Charles have time to themselves?" Theo offered gently in return. He squeezed Xavier's hand in his own.

"I'm just..." he might as well admit his idea to Xavier, "...trying to find a way to promote a sleep-over for the kids. I always loved late night sleepovers with my friends when I was little, and I think the kids would enjoy it..." With the real motivation for them staying here revealed, he hoped Xavier understood his reasoning.  There was little Theo felt he could do for their family, in terms of providing support- be it money, a home, food- Xavier had all necessities covered.

This was Theo's way of providing, trying to create unique memories and moments where no one else could. It was one way he could say thank you, or he could show his love. He wanted to make something fun they could all remember.

Xavier/Hamilton: "I think it goes without saying that Mason and Charles wouldn't leave their children in my care for love or money."

Xavier heaved a long sigh just as a knock sounded at the door. Hamilton had returned with the blessed distraction of tea. "Come in," he called, making no move to remove Theo from his lap. The staff was well used to it by now, and Hamilton didn't bat a single eyelash as he entered with the tray.

While he poured, Xavier's attention returned to Theo. "You already told Charles we'd host them here, didn't you?"

Theo: "Well, I'm here too you know..." there was a tiny, petulant pout on Theo's lips, but he had a feeling Xavier was right.

Theo smiled to Hamilton when he entered, now used to the staff finding them in positions like this as well. He used to blush when such things would happen, but this situation was innocent enough.

Theo's attention returned to Xavier with his question.

"Honestly? I said there was no reason we couldn't house them all here. The mansion has plenty of room for you and Mason to keep your distance, but I did say I would discuss it with you first. It's your choice, I wouldn't blindly invite them into our home without your consent. I know Charles will understand if you say you'd rather not."

He squeezed Xavier's hand again and kissed his cheek.

"The hotel is an option, love. I suggested we go as well since I knew you'd want to be near Devlin."

Xavier/Hamilton: He accepted his cup from Hamilton with another sigh. Theo had told Charles there was no reason they couldn't host the family at the manor, so if Xavier refused to now, then he would be the reason. Not only that, he'd provide Mason and Charles with more ammunition to consider him difficult and petty.

So it was either have his brother under the same roof for the first time in a century or once again be cast as the villain of the story who was so inflexible he would deny his son the opportunity to make memories with his cousins.

"Hamilton?" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Have two rooms prepared in the east wing. It appears we're to have guests."

Theo: The surge of excitement that Theo felt with Xavier agreeing to let them stay was immediately quelled as Xavier pinched his nose. Guilt quickly followed, and Theo reached up to take that hand in his own and give it a gentle squeeze. It wasn't his intention to force Xavier into agreeing, and he wanted to make that clear.

"Xavier, I did inform Charles I would have to talk to you about it first. Charles will understand if you are not comfortable with it, and I can easily play it off. I can easily suggest a hotel without a problem, and the kids can still have some fun. You don't have to force yourself if you're not ready. I can easily come up with a reason on my end- something I forgot about, so you don't have to feel like you're the only one saying no." His thumb trailed over the back of Xavier's hand, and his expression was apologetic. He didn't mean to put Xavier in a position where he felt he had to agree.

Xavier/Hamilton: Xavier let Theo take his hand, and though he tried for a smile, it fell far short of the mark. He appreciated Theo trying to finesse everything but the truth was, Xavier was the only one saying no. And in that situation, the best and simplest thing for all involved was to give in.

"It's fine, darling, don't trouble yourself. When are they planning their visit and for how long? Hamilton, how much time do you need to prepare?"

"Depending on your lordship's specifications, no more than a week."

Theo: Theo's shoulders sank, and he gave the back of Xavier's hand a soft kiss.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to basically force you into it..." he apologized, and let their hands return to his lap.

"He said they were planning a visit for a week, and-" he opened his phone to find the dates Charles said he would text Theo. "I think we have some time to prepare, it didn't seem like the trip was going to happen next week." He showed Xavier the text on his phone.

Xavier/Hamilton: He tried to smile again--marginally more successfully--and kissed Theo's cheek. "Really, darling, it's fine. No need to concern yourself at all." He would just...muddle through. What was done, was done.

Xavier noted the dates and gave them to Hamilton, who offered Theo his tea.

"Very good, my lord. I'll have the rooms aired out at once."

"Excellent, thank you. Are those beds still in the attic?"

"Yes, my lord."

"What size are they? Twin?"

"I believe they're both full."

"Even better. Have them brought down for the children. They should both fit quite nicely in the room."

Theo: "I promise to find a way to reward you for being so generous," Theo smiled softly and made sure to kiss Xavier's cheek before accepting his tea. "Thank you, Hamilton." Part of it might have also been his way of apologizing, once this was all over.

"Devlin will be ecstatic! Do you want to be the one to tell him his cousins will be visiting?" Theo asked as he started to sip at his tea.

Xavier: Xavier gave Theo a squeeze. "You don't have to do that, it's fine. Devlin will enjoy himself. That's reward enough for me." It would need to be and it would be. He'd make sure it was.

"Why don't you tell him, darling? I have a lot of planning to do."

Theo: "I know I don't have to. I want to, because I love and appreciate you. I'd do something nice for you regardless," Theo smiled, and this time he used Xavier's cheek to guide him in for another kiss on the lips.

"Alright, do you still have a few minutes to finish tea with me?" Theo asked when he pulled away and wiggled for playful emphasis on Xavier's lap.

Xavier: "I love and appreciate you, too," he said, nuzzling Theo's cheek. An effort would have to be made to relax and appear less tense. He didn't want to rain on the parade, so to speak. Not openly at least. "And yes, of course I do."

Theo: Theo set his tea on his lap so he could card his fingers through Xavier's hair as he was nuzzled, and as he pulled away there was another kiss to Xavier's nose.

"Thank you," he hummed, and finished his tea while resting his head occasionally on his demon's shoulder.

Once he was done, Theo rose from the chair and placed a hand on each arm rest so he could lean in for a kiss to the lips. Then he rested his forehead gently against Xavier's.

"I'll see you when work is done?" He asked with a soft smile.

Xavier: Xavier smiled and rested his head against Theo's. "You never have to thank me for spending time with you, or even ask me to. Just come in and sit down."

He let himself be soothed by Theo's presence as they finished their tea, grasping at whatever mental calm he could while he could. The moment Theo left his study, all the chaos would come rushing back.

He nodded as Theo pulled away. "Yes, of course. I'll try not to go too long."

Theo: "Noted," Theo hummed, and his hand tilted Xavier's jaw so Theo could steal another kiss. "Love you."

Then he set his empty teacup to the side, knowing someone would take care of his when Xavier's work returned, and he quietly left the room.

Once outside, he dialed Charles phone number and headed back to his office.

Charles: Charles picked up on the third ring, the faint murmur of a crowd could be heard in the background.  "This one is nice. Don't you think, sweetheart? Rory, that case was gray, originally. Change it back. Theo! I do apologize. I'm out with the children. It's a bloody madhouse, here. How did it go?"

Theo: Theo chuckled to himself as he listened to the ruckus on the other end of the phone.

"Don't apologize, it's totally fine!" Theo grinned, and a little surge of his earlier excitement returned. "It wasn't without its bumps, but you and your family are invited to stay under our roof. Just give me the dates, and Hamilton will prepare some rooms for you all. I'm trying to find Devlin now to tell him!"

Charles: "Wonderful! Now, I just have to break the news to my husband," he laughed. "That's the one you like? Well, tell the young woman, and she'll unlock the case for you." His words were muffled, as though from a distance. "Sorry, again! Cee's taken a sincere interest in photography, so I'm letting her choose a camera. I'll text you those solidified dates once I've spoken with Mason."

Theo: "You'll have to let me know how it goes!" Theo laughed, "we certainly picked challenging brothers to fall in love with." Theo was about to continue when the ideas he'd been spinning in the short time since Charles had contacted him popped to the forefront of his mind.

"Oh! I wanted to mention- if you all want the company, I'm sure Devlin would love to see the Redwoods as well! I also don't want to butt-in, so if that part of the trip is just for you all- there's a couple other nature reserves, that I've been meaning to take Devlin to that I think you and the kids would love." Ah- there was his son! Theo opened his eyes again and started in that direction. "And I thought it might be cute to set up something for them- like a sleepover, with a blanket fort and some snacks-" Theo suddenly stopped what he was saying and an embarrassed blush crept over his cheeks.

"I apologize, I know you're busy at the moment, and this is a vacation for you all- I tend to rant when I get excited- anyway!" Theo rubbed the back of his neck. "How about you let me know the dates- and we can talk more later, when you're not busy?"

Charles: "I certainly will." His answering smile was audible. "Indeed. But well worth the challenge, I think." He pinned the phone between cheek and shoulder as he fished out his wallet to pay for the camera.

"We'd love to have him. We've chosen this location because Cee is desperate to see it, along with several other remarkable locations on our planet. This was the closest to home. You know, one we could squeeze in before classes begin and we're swept up in all of the chaos. But if we have time to add stops to the journey, I'm sure the kids will enjoy it!"

Charles waved the hand holding his debit card, though Theo wouldn't be able to see it. "You've no reason to apologize, mate. I'm thrilled that you're excited. The kids'll be over the bloody moon to have a proper sleepover. Mason builds an excellent pillow fort."

He murmured a 'thank you' to the cashier and the sound of a paper bag rustling could be heard in the background as he handed it off to his daughter. "Sounds good. I'll call you after I've spoken with Mason? Perhaps tomorrow morning. I'm not positive when he'll return and I'd hate to call you too late."

Theo: Relief washed over Theo as Charles responded, he was happy he hadn't gotten too ahead of himself for the other's taste.

"Sounds perfect, you can always text ahead of time as well. I tend to be a night owl, but you're welcome to call tomorrow. At the moment I have no work planned, my jobs sort of pop up at random, so I should be free at any time. I look forward to hearing from you!"

Charles: "I may do that. I'll talk to you later, Theo. Take care!" He ended the call with a smile on his face and budding excitement in his chest. He ushered the children along, Cee beaming over her new gift. Now, to wait for Mason to return home.

Mason: Hours, rather than an entire day and some change. Fresh clothes and woody soap. The stench of menthol cigarettes trapped in the fabric.

Silently, humanly, Mason entered through the front door. An effort of domesticity for the children. The first child in his path was scooped into his arms.

Cynthia: Cynthia, naturally. The usual seriousness beyond her years exchanged, for once, for a proper, child-like grin. She was eager to show off her own collection of photographs, mostly from the back yard and the park they'd stopped by on the way home. She hadn't put the camera down once since they'd left the store.

Mason: "Yeah?" She would be carried to the kitchen. A bottle of water to split from the back of the fridge. Something more for his hands, burning with purpose. His contract had been outwardly violent. Rock salt, spitting, you'll never take me kind of night. Petulant, perverse to his privilege, found wanting to the very end of his miserable life. Worthy of Hell, but not worthy of thought now that he was home.

Cynthia was placed on the kitchen counter. "Which is your favorite?"

Cynthia: She beamed and nodded. A favorite? That would be tough. From her perch on the countertop, Cynthia began scrolling through the photos on the little display screen. Once satisfied, she offered her father the camera without removing its strap from around her neck. He'd find a picture not unlike those from her book: a copse of trees in waning sunlight. There were others, of course. A few of Dad and Rory. Of the other kids playing at the park. One disappointingly blurry shot of a chipmunk that she'd accidentally frightened away. She was still smiling when she looked up at her father.

'Do you like it? Can I print them?'

Mason: "Which ones?" Said and signed for the sake of practice. Sign language, with the major exception of fingerspelling, was becoming fluid. Fingerspelling could go to Hell.

"We'll get frames tomorrow. Where do you want them?"

Cynthia: Her large, brown eyes got even wider. 'I can hang them up!?' The excitement was apparent in her expression, in the speed of her hands.

Mason: "Yes! Pick ... three." Almost showed six. He'd never get used to that. "Where's Dad?"

Cynthia: Only three? She'd have to think about it. She beamed and wrapped her arms around her father's neck before settling back and scrolling through her pictures, again.

'Upstairs, I think,' she signed, distractedly. 'Working.' As usual.

Mason: "Of course he is. Down ya get." Brought to her feet and hair fixed from her shoulder.

"Find me when ya have em picked."

Now, upstairs to sabotage Charles' busywork.

Charles/Rory: He'd find his son hard at work in the hall, halfway down a long roll of paper he was drawing on. The present scene featured Papa fighting a shark. He was winning, of course.

The door to the bedroom was open, the better to keep an eye on the boy while Charles sorted through a massive stack of receipts. His laptop was open, the browser displaying at least a dozen separate windows.

Mason: Interesting bit of art. Rory was given a passing pat. Not surprised in the least to find his husband elbows deep in something to do. Not at all relaxing.

Without word, Mason made his way around, pulling Charles' back to his chest.

Finally, "The fuck are ya doin', darlin'?"

Charles: Always pleasant to use his husband as a pillow. Or blanket. Or recliner. He huffed a small laugh, at his blunt question.

"I told you I had to get the school's finances in order. I'm setting up a meeting with the accountant, but some things need to be organized, first. And," he tipped his head toward the laptop screen, "I'm making plans for our trip to California. I spoke with Theo."

He paused, shuffling through the stack of paper without any real purpose. Aside from putting off the inevitable, of course. "He says that he and Xavier would be happy to host us. And join us when we take the kids to see the redwoods."

Mason: Silence from behind. Slowly blanking on what to say or do. Mind drifting back to their wedding, to a photo shared between brothers. Couldn't be as shit as all that.

Moving right along. Hands combed through Charles' hair.

"Need help with anything?"

Charles: He craned his neck to get a look at Mason's expression, ignoring his question in favor of asking one of his own.

"Is that all right? If not, I can call him back and say we'll be staying in a hotel and will stop by for a shorter visit so the kids can see each other. I'll tell him it was my idea. There's a hotel I desperately want to stay at, or something."

Mason: Worth pointing out, "I didn't say a word." He began massaging at his scalp, down the back of his neck. Had there been no family, he couldn't see this reunion take any shape. This was purely for the sake of others. So he told himself.

"S'fine. Y'all settle on a date?"

Charles: "As though you need to say anything. I know you, and that has little to do with telepathy."

He let out a low hum, practically purring beneath Mason's warm touch.

"Mm. That feels nice. I was waiting for you to come home before I solidified anything. School's starting soon, so sometime in the next couple of weeks would be ideal. Mason, if you have a change of heart, just say the word and I'll find other arrangements." He'd leave it at that.

"How soon would you like to go?"

Mason: "Sooner rather than later. Ya need space between this n'school. Less this," a tap to the laptop, "n'more this," a firm, long squeeze to his neck. "N'I need more of your tongue doin' other things."

Charles: His gaze flitted briefly to the open door, where their son was still happily occupied.

"Can't say I wouldn't enjoy more of that. More time with you." Frankly, there was never enough. "Let's say a week, then? It'll give both us and them time to prepare, but still leave a bit of time before classes restart"

Mason: "Perfect. Call em back tomorrow, then." Their son was in their own little world, and just out of sight without craning his head for a proper look. Nothing beyond his whispered tease in Charles' ear, and a quick nibble just below his hairline.

Charles: "Tomorrow," he echoed, stifling a chuckle. "And I suppose I can leave the rest of this until then, as well. I think it's past time for the kids to be asleep, no?"

Mason: "Hmm." He checked Charles' watch for the both of them. "About time for baths and pajamas. What I miss, 'sides Cynthia's photography?"

Charles: "Art supplies for Rory," he began, listing, while he tipped his head back against Mason's shoulder. "A trip to the park. Lunch. Dinner. There's pizza downstairs, by the way, if you're hungry. And then they more or less occupied themselves from there. Cee seems so pleased with her Camera, doesn't she? I think it'll be good for her."

Mason: "Told her t'pick three of her favorites n'we'll get frames tomorrow. Lit up like Christmas." There was a long pause from Mason, but only verbally. Were water parks still popular, or was that the 90s? Decades sometimes melded together. Thoughts of course shared.

"What ya think? I don't doubt Rory'd love it, but Cynthia's still..." Skittish. A word which brought him back to the day he first laid eyes on her.

Charles: He smiled, at that, as warm as the arms that held him. His head rolled to one side to press a kiss to the nearest bit of skin he could reach. "Good."

With a thoughtful hum, Charles shut his eyes. The stack of receipts he was holding was set aside. "People still enjoy water parks, love. When are you trying to go? During this holiday?"

Mason: "Before autumn hits. S'just an idea." Charles' chin was directed just enough for a proper kiss, brief though it was.

"Alright, I'll be back." Time to wrangle up the children.

Charles: "Hm. Couldn't hurt to ask the kids how they feel about it." The kiss was over far too soon. Charles nodded and began tidying the mess he'd made of their bed.

"Tell them I'll be in to say goodnight, later."

Would it be presumptuous to run a bath in the master, in the meantime? Perhaps. He'd do so, regardless.

Mason: A bath would do them both good, despite having already cleansed every drop of blood in New Orleans. It was about the company.

The children were herded first to the bathrooms and then to their beds. He would wait with Rory for Charles, and they would say their goodnights together with Cynthia. No doubt with her top three photos to show. Tomorrow for printing and framing. Maybe a homecooked meal in the backyard. Been much too long since he attempted cooking on an open flame.

"Now you're mine," he whispered behind the soft click of the latch bolt.

Charles: Charles' mood a week later was an entirely different sort of eager, thin tendrils of apprehension creeping their way in before he brushed them aside, decidedly. This would be a good trip, he assured himself. For everyone involved. The children most especially.

He caught his son's arms as the boy attempted to sneak another sheaf of paper into his bag. They'd packed lightly, as they always did. Anything desperately needed could be fetched or purchased when the situation arose. For now, they had enough clothing and toiletries for their stay.

"Rory, you have more than enough paper. Put that back. If you run out, which I highly doubt you will, I'll buy more while we're there. Is everyone ready?"

Mason/Cynthia: Mason kneeled at his son's feet, double knotting his loose shoelace. A permanent solution, dammit, one he would deal with later when it was time to come off.

"Papa's travel slip your mind?"

Cynthia exchanged a quick glance. No, they didn't forget, especially their daughter, and she didn't forget the times their father came home exhausted.

So, they were really doing this. Some surreal family trip... with his baby brother. What the fuck was he thinking?

"Breath in."

And out. He knew better than to try beyond the gates. He had his suspicions; having his children were no exception. They would arrive outside of the gate.

Ramsay: Waiting outside the gate to Atlas Manor was a black Rolls Royce and leaning against it with a cigarette between his lips, a thin middle-aged man.

He wore a well-tailored black suit, wine colored tie, and chauffer's cap. Upon Mason and his family's appearance, he straightened and offered a winning smile.

"Professor and Mr. Atlas, I presume?" he asked in a cockney accent.

Charles: He'd curled one hand into a fist inside of his pocket, the better to ignore his somersaulting stomach. He managed a smile at the man. Hopefully, he would not notice the thin sheen of sweat that covered Charles' face. He inhaled as deeply as he could without being too obvious.

"That would be us, yes," he nodded, giving his children a brief once-over to ensure that they were alright.

Mason: Mason smiled briefly, checking on the children in similar fashion. His nosebleed was hidden behind a dark handkerchief. He would much rather his babies not stink of sulfur.

"You're exactly the kinda man Xavier'd hire."

Ramsay: Bearing in mind the dire warnings from Hamilton, he simply nodded.

"The name's Ramsay." He took off his hat and nodded in greeting. "I'll be your driver for the duration of your stay."

He opened the passenger and rear doors to the car. "I'll get your bags."

Charles: "Thank you." Spoken softly as he returned the nod. "Set down your bags, darlings," he murmured just as quietly. His own would follow shortly after and he'd usher the kids into the back seat before sliding in after them.

Mason: This was formal, and as far away from intimate as family could get short of making appointments to see the children. No Xavier to greet his niece and nephew at the gate. Just reinforcement that he was different. That the little boy from Yorkshire was long dead and buried.

This was for the children, and didn't have to go beyond the children.

The last bag was carried to the trunk in some manner of solidarity. Ramsay given a wink before settling in.

Ramsay: Ramsay answered Mason's wink with a quick and easy grin. It was clear that he wasn't taking the ceremony of all this too seriously. He was just here to help a friend and earn his keep.

He slid into the driver's seat and seemed to produce a piece of candy from thin air. It was ginger gum, which he offered to Charles. "Teleportation never gets easier, Professor."

Charles: How delightful! Charles smiled sunnily at the man and leaned forward to accept the piece of gum, tearing it neatly in half to offer part to Cee.

"Don't I know it. Thank you very much. And, please, call me Charles. I insist."

Mason: "He was paid a hundred grand t'keep appearances. You're Professor until we leave."

Mason leaned forward, arm on the back of the next chair.

"He's Lord Blackbeard - Blackthorne - Blackblack, isn't he?" A question as though amongst themselves.

Ramsay: "You're welcome, Professor Charles." Best to split the difference and just drive. Hell, maybe the girls had been right and this was D Day.

Clarifying didn't count as an inappropriate comment, right? "Blackthorne, yes."

Charles: He resisted the urge to mutter under his breath, popping the gum into his mouth and chewing slowly.

"Standing on ceremony, then," he nodded. "Cozy."

Mason: "So cozy, darlin'." Charles was given a bright grin, as though absolutely free of stress. This was going to be one hell of week.

Ramsay/Devlin: Responding to that would definitely make Hamilton have an upset. Never mind that he wasn't here and that Ramsay spent large amounts of his time ruffling the butler's feathers and that he wouldn't know if Ramsay had behaved in the car or not. He'd promised to behave and he had to honor that.

The road from the gate to the actual driveway was just over a mile and a half long, surrounded on both sides by lush forest and the occasional lamp post. It would almost appear as if that was all there was, until a long curve brought the sprawling red brick manor into view.

And standing in front of the door were Xavier and his family, along with Hamilton, Lydia, and Rohan. There had been talk about having the entire staff greet Mason's family, but Rohan had nipped that notion in the bud.

Ramsay had barely circled the drive when Devlin made a beeline toward the car, practically bouncing up and down with excitement and shouting, "They're here they're here they're heeeere!"

Charles: Charles watched the scenery with mild appreciation. He certainly could not fault the man for sprawling grounds, not when he had acres to his own name. They were as fine as he remembered. He rested a gentle hand on his son's shoulder as he spotted his cousin. "Wait for the car to stop, love."

But he would not prevent the boy from climbing over his lap the moment the vehicle was in park, greeting Devlin with equal enthusiasm. Charles' smile was soft and genuine as he gestured for a more reserved Cynthia to do the same. "Go on."

That was exactly right. Whatever tension the week promised for the adults, they were the reason everyone was here. It warmed him.

He looked to his husband with a crooked smile. "Shall we?"

Theo: "Dev, wait till the car stops," Theo gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before releasing him to run towards the car. In his other hand he held Xavier's, fingers laced gently together, and he gave Xavier's hand a squeeze as Devlin ran ahead.

"It'll be good for the kids," Theo leaned his head on Xavier's shoulder for a moment, and another squeeze. "I hope it will be a good week for all of us."

He knew the week leading up to this had been hard on Xavier, despite his smiles and appearances, and he could only hope that his belief that this week could be a positive one for all would find some truth.

He grinned and waved when he spotted Charles through the window. Even if this week went horribly wrong, Theo at least had something to look forward to. Theo didn't really have any friends, and those he did were all hunters- so not... 'friends'. He kept this to himself, but hoped he might find one in Charles, or at the least get to know him a little more.

Mason/MJ: He'd expected everyone on Xavier's payroll to be standing there in neat little rows, so color him surprised to find a more... intimate setting. A word used loosely in his thoughts, but still, his smile wasn't as forced as it perhaps should have been. Cynthia was assisted over her father's lap.

He recognized most of those faces. The two not as familiar were given single seconds of study.

"Out ya get, Charles." Fingers danced over the telepath's lower back as he followed, rather than going around.

To hug his brother in front of staff, or to bother with the bags in the trunk?

The trunk, for now. He would be handling his own bag, ta very much.

A stirring from one of the bedrooms. A glance at MJ's watch before burrowing deeper under the dark comforter.

Xavier: As the week progressed Xavier's smiles had only gotten tighter and tighter. Now as he stood watching his brother approach, he barely managed to curve his lips beyond what would be considered polite. At least until Devlin's excited outburst. That helped a bit.

"I'm sure it will," he said to Theo.

Mason would be left to handle his own bag while Rohan moved to help Ramsay with the rest. Hamilton would see to the car doors and Lydia would take care of the front door. A well-oiled machine.

Xavier bolstered himself and approached his family. "Good afternoon, Charles. Mason. Welcome to our home."

Charles: He nodded, swiftly pecking the corner of his husband's mouth, before exiting. Charles wouldn't say anything, wouldn't so much as cast a disapproving glance as Mason handled his own bag. Whatever made this week go more smoothly for him.

Theo's grin was returned in earnest, eyes crinkling warmly as he approached. He did not allow any of that warmth to ebb away as he looked to his other host.

"Thank you for having us! Your home is just as lovely as I remember. It's wonderful to see you both, again."

Theo: A small kiss was placed on the back of Xavier's hand, and Theo followed Xavier in their approach.

"Likewise! We're excited to have you join us! Devlin has talked about nothing else all week," Theo beamed and he released Xavier's hand so he could offer Charles a hug in greeting. "My mother is a hugger - got me used to it, so no pressure if you're not." Theo offered, just in case Charles needed and out.

Mason: "More ceremony than before, is it?" How many times now? Three? That damn bird the first time. Xavier's company at his wedding had been ... pleasant. He couldn't deny and he wouldn't. But this house tightened his muscles to the point of actual ache. Not by guilt, but by the masquerade of it all. Denying his identity like some Gatsby hardback. Like catching the little boy Xavier had been standing over the dead animals he had killed. Lying to his face. Cleaning the blood off those blades again and again before being hung. Just memories and the wall he promised not to build in Charles' presence was slowly assembling.

So, he would remain silent, and follow his husband's lead, waiting for affection he was reluctant to participate in.

Xavier: "A family visit requires a little ceremony, I think. Particularly since this is the children's first time seeing the house." Meaning there was a proper way to do things and he was going to adhere to it no matter what anyone thought.

He directed Ramsay to take the bags to the east wing and motioned for everyone to come in. "Pleasant journey?"

Charles: He was only too happy to return Theo's embrace, clapping the man heartily on the back.

"We're family." And how he loved the sound of that. "I think hugs are appropriate."

But he wouldn't pressure anyone else to do the same. His smile faltered, slightly, as Mason began to lay bricks across their mental link. He reached out to take his husband's free hand as he turned to Xavier, giving it a squeeze. None of that.

"No, actually," he laughed, the sound just a bit weak.  "Though, I'd hardly call it a journey, considering it took a fraction of a second. The drive from the gate was nice."

Theo: Theo laughed and clapped Charles lightly on the back in return. Family- Theo could barely believe he had one, let alone one that had expanded, and he quite liked the sound of it too.

When they separated, Theo gave Mason an amused smile.

"I won't make you give me a hug if you don't want one, Mason," he promised with a chuckle, and then moved to stand at Xavier's side when he motioned everyone into the house.

"Dev, don't forget to say hi to your uncles," Theo called over to the children, who all seemed oblivious to the tense greetings between the adults around them.

Mason: "Aye. They'll certainly remember t'sit up straight."

Charles' hand was grasped; hardly any strength in the returning squeeze. He was sinking into that uncomfortable dry pit of pessimism. Tripping ungracefully into the 1930s. He could nearly see the freckles from his old hands. Xavier's sharper cheekbones and roman nose. Could make out the scent of cobblestone and filthy docks.

Devlin, despite circumstance and atmosphere, was given a sincere smile.

Xavier/Devlin: Devlin came rushing back, all enthusiasm and delight as he squeezed each of his uncles in turn. "Hi Uncle Charles! Hi Uncle Mason! Do you wanna see my snail? Daddy found him in the garden!"

Xavier's smile was veering back towards sincere as well. This beautiful little boy was his reason for doing this. He had to remember that.

"Would you like a ginger ale, Charles? Or perhaps some tea to help settle your stomach?"

Charles: Charles returned the boy's embrace, all smiles despite growing concern for his husband.

"Hello! Oh, I'd love to see your snail. Does he have a name?"

He looked up at Xavier's offer and gave a smile to him as well. "Tea would be lovely, thanks."

Theo: "How about you, Mason?" Theo chimed in after letting Devlin show off his snail.

"Are you thirsty? We have tea, ginger ale, water, milk, a few varieties of juice-" he paused and smiled at Mason with a teasing glint in his eyes, "-or we always have something a little stronger if you'd like?" If Mason was even half as wound-up as Xavier had been over the past week, Theo could understand needing a few drinks.

Mason: "I'll have my gin in a formal glass in a formal chair at formal supper."

A hug? For such a small thing he hardly saw. For a boy that wouldn't exist had his father not dangled from a noose. He could taste iron in his mouth and down his throat as he lifted the boy from under his arms.

"Let me see you. Mm. Yes." Inspection, turned from side to side. "This is the same boy from before." A small bounce. "You've gotten bigger, aye. A little more hair. That chin's sharp as a dagger. Good bones in this one. We won't turn ya into stew." Treated no differently than his daughters, his grandsons. Devlin was tucked under his arm to dangle.

"Show us your snail, n'whatever else ya got hidin' under floorboards."

Xavier/Devlin: Herculean effort was expended in keeping from rolling his eyes.

For the kids, Xavier reminded himself for the umpteenth time, turning to his staff. "Lydia, I think it's time for tea and cake."

"Yes, my lord." And off she went.

Meanwhile, Devlin was giggling up a storm as his uncle picked him up.

Although that eternally sweet face was a perfect blend of both his parents, those eyes were all Xavier. And just now, they were clear and bright and positively lit with humor.

"I found rocks and flowers for him and I feed him carrots!" And the yucky raw spinach from the salads at dinner.

He gasped. How did Uncle Mason know about his worms? Could he read minds like Daddy?

"It's a secret!" he whispered.

Charles: He wanted to scold. If this was going to work, everyone would have to put in effort. But Mason was as charming as he always was in dealing with children, and Charles let the matter lie. For the time being.

He looked to Theo as they entered the grand house. "I was thinking we'd get an early start tomorrow morning. That way the children can get the full experience." And they'd be well worn out by day's end. "What do you think?"

Theo: Theo shrugged at Mason's response, and he gave Xavier's hand a gentle squeeze.

"I think that's a great idea," Theo agreed with a nod. "That way we also aren't pressed for time, and the kids can explore as they please."

Mason: "It's only a secret if ya don't announce it." His Uncle Mason would be the first to instruct. He would make a liar out of his nephew yet. "Now, point me in the direction of your room." He knew where it was; that was beside the point. He looked back for his children, offered his hand.

Xavier: Xavier just squeezed Theo's hand in return and guided them all to the drawing room.

He would take his usual chair by the fireplace, letting Theo and Charles talk while the tea arrived.

"That way!" Devlin exclaimed, pointing. His bedroom was to the right of the stairs, the second door they came to on the right side of the hallway.

It was an extreme departure from the grandeur of the rest of the house with its bright colors, cheerful clutter, and various toys and decor that showcased Devlin's love for insects and animals. The terrarium where the snail lived had pride of place on one of his bedside tables.

Charles: Grateful that Mason had someone tiny and adorable to occupy his thoughts, Charles happily gave Theo and their plans his full attention, even urging the children along to spend time with their cousin.

"I must confess, I've never been, myself. Really a shame, because I do love to travel. Do you know the area well? If not, we might want to browse a mao before morning. Just to be safe. And perhaps we can find a nice spot to have lunch."

Theo: "I can't say I've been in those woods to sight-see," Theo chuckled, and he gave Xavier's forehead a kiss as he passed his chair and approached the nearest couch so he could take a seat at one end. He motioned for Charles to join him on the other side with a smile. "I've been there for work, and I wasn't anywhere near the standard visiting areas, so we can definitely take a look at a map, and maybe look up a few places online that might be nice to walk through?"

Mason: This was easier than having to force formality he couldn't bring himself to muster. Devlin was placed at his doorway along with his bag. He would supervise the children. Right away, their personalities blossomed. Rory wanting to see everything, gravitating towards his new friend's aura. Cynthia settled beside her father, asked why he wasn't with Daddy and if he was alright. Their conversation private in sign.

Xavier: Devlin was more than happy to show his cousin around his room, pointing out his favorite books and posters and toys as well as a few odds and ends that had been gifted to him.

Like the snow globe of the Swiss village where it actually snowed and the terrarium that was its own tiny ecosystem.

And then of course there was the snail and the secret worms under the loose floorboard in his closet. They were in a box with some soil and twigs and pieces of old fruit.

"It's a secret," he said again.

Charles: Charles took the offered seat gratefully, tossing Theo a crooked smile in thanks. "Ah, yes. For work." He knew what that meant, but would leave his curiosity for another time. "Sounds perfect." A nod of agreement. "I believe my laptop's been squirreled away somewhere, but I can pull up the park website on my mobile." In fact, he would do just that.

Theo: "I can also grab my laptop," Theo waved Charles' phone back into his pocket as he got back up from the couch. "It's in my office, want to come see? Xavier gifted it to me, I have an amazing selection of books in there too, if you'd like to take a peek?"

Mason: Mason knelt by the closet along with Cynthia, watching this very open secret unfold before Rory's eyes with amusement. Did Devlin want the worms to be green? pink? His father smiled and shook his head.

"Let him choose. Don't change things without permission."

Xavier: "The worms are pink already!" Devlin exclaimed, forgetting to whisper. "Can you change the color of the sticks? Oooh, what if the sticks were blue? Or purple! Uncle Mai, do you think the worms would like purple sticks? And blue apples?"

Charles: He stood, his smile growing more pronounced as he nodded. "It would be a genuine delight. Lead the way." At the very least, it seemed that he and Theo would be good friends. With a bit of luck, it could help them draw their partners from their respective, sullen corners.

Theo: Theo kissed the top of Xavier's head as he passed and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We'll be back soon," he hummed and waved for Charles to join him as he headed for the hallway, and his office.

Mason: But Rory pointed out that they weren't pink enough. They could be magenta! And he'd never made a blue apple before! Mason just smiled, encouraged them to try, so long as Rory remembered to right the colors before dinnertime.

Xavier: "Take your time," said Xavier. "Just don't get distracted and forget the tea that's on its way." He would take this time to sink as far into his chair as he could and brood. He was already exhausted. How would he ever get through the week?

"I know where we can get an apple!" Devlin put his worm box away and led them out of his room and back down the stairs. They were headed for the kitchen.

Charles: How very sweet, he thought, watching the two of them. He followed agreeably in Theo's wake, genuinely curious about the man's office and eager to plan the following day's adventure.

Theo: Theo rolled his eyes good naturedly as Charles joined him. "Of course love, we'll be back!" And then he led Charles down the halls, to his office.

"I know both of our spouses are not super pleased with this visit, but I'm glad you're all here," Theo said after they'd passed a few doors. He smiled over at Charles and shoved his hands casually into his pockets. "Personally- I'm excited to get to know you and the kids more, but really I'm glad Devlin is going to get to grow up with an extended family. We didn't see mine, and I was an only child so it... was a bit lonely at times. I knew kids my age, but it wasn't quite the same."

Mason: Mason shadowed behind. Felt for wards and blessings, barriers and any signs of unpleasantness with hypersensitive ears and a mind like spindly static fingers. Xavier was more than his brother. He was demon, and his caution exuded itself without thinking. And then it found Xavier.

'We're headin' for the kitchen. Turnin' apples blue. Care t'join us?'

Xavier/Devlin: The largest and most palpable blessing would be felt in Devlin’s bedroom, especially surrounding his bed. Heavy wards would be felt at his door and windows.

The wards outside his room didn’t pack quite the same punch but they had presence. One that could especially be felt by a demon.

Xavier was determined to keep every single inch of his home safe, and his son most of all.

This late in the summer it was still too warm for a fire to be burning, but Xavier still stared morosely into the empty hearth as he contemplated holing himself up in the study for the week.

But alas.

‘Why not.’ And up he got to go to the kitchen, where dinner preparations were well under way.

“Chef Christine!” Devlin called as he led his uncle and cousins inside. “Can we have an apple?”

Christine straightened at the sight of Mason but she smiled warmly at the little boy. “Absolutely. Slices or wedges?”

“No slices! Rory’s gonna turn it blue!”

Charles: Charles mirrored the gesture. He glanced to Theo with a small, melancholy smile. "I understand what you mean. I was... lonely for a long time, growing up. My family was never particularly warm, and I spent much of my time isolated. At least until we adopted my sister. I'm thrilled that my children will have a large, loving family. Honestly, it means the world. Are your--" How to put this delicately? Tact, Charles. "Does Devlin have a relationship with his grandparents?"

Theo: It was nice to know they shared that in common, and it brought a smile to Theo's lips.

"Yes, Devlin officially met his grandma around Christmas. We'd been doing video calls to introduce them leading up to the visit, and we still do calls until Devlin goes to visit her on the occasional weekend. My dad... well- I don't know what happened to him exactly. I thought he died. I watched him get dragged off by something when I was a kid, it's why I became a hunter actually, but knowing what I am now- I'm not so sure."

Theo paused and grinned sheepishly over at Charles.

"Regardless, my mom might be interested in meeting you, Mason, and the kids, if you're amenable to it. I may have mentioned that Xavier had a brother with a family and kids - and her response was 'excellent, more grandbabies! When do I meet them?' I warned her that wasn't my place to offer, she just...has a big heart." Theo led Charles down another hallway with a small, directional nod.

"Do your kids have a relationship with their grandparents?"

Mason: The servants were acknowledged with little more than a nod of recognition. This was playtime with the children; social how-do-you-dos would wait.

"Your papa is comin'. He wants t'see." He felt then for Charles. Just a moment to himself, watching the children, that he felt comfortable enough to brush invisible fingers over the side of his husband's neck. All is well.

Xavier: Christine and the maid who was helping her inclined their heads toward Mason. While Christine selected apples, the maid got a plate for them.

For his part, Devlin was pulling out chairs for all of them at the kitchen table and moving the napkins and the shakers out of the way. "Chef Christine! We want all the colors of apples!"

"What do we say, Devy?" came Xavier's voice from the doorway.

"Oh yeah! Please, Chef Christine?"

"Much better." Xavier took the seat beside his son and smiled. "How was the tour?"

Charles: A curious career choice. Charles was sure he'd ask more about it, when they had the time for a good, long talk. "How wonderful! And we'd love to meet her! Honestly, I've always wanted a large family."

He smiled, soft and private, at that phantom touch. He returned it through a brush of telepathic lips against his husband's jaw, not breaking conversation with Theo.

"They do not. My parents passed some time ago." He sometimes wondered if he'd have subjected his children to them, even if they were alive. "They could use a bit of grandmotherly spoiling."

Theo: "I'm sorry about your parents," Theo glanced over at Charles, but figured dead parents were not a subject to dwell on so early in a friendship.

"My mom'll be thrilled," Theo pushed the conversation forward, and grinned as he pictured just how his mom would demand to meet them. As soon as possible. "I think she's always wanted something similar. Unfortunately, marrying my father caused some estrangement between my mother and her family, so it was just me and her after my dad was gone. I know she's been lonely since I took off, so she'll absolutely love having more grandchildren to spoil."

They finally reached his office, and Theo pushed open the ornate wooden door to reveal the beautifully furnished room. Lined wall-to-wall were bookshelves filled books of all kinds, including sections of old tomes and texts Theo had recovered from abandoned and remote places. A majority were originals or copies of books related to folklore, fantasy, and beasts of different cultures. There were sections from different eras, and of course there were sections of your average books, Theo's personal favorites when he wasn't buried in his work.

"Feel free to look around, my laptop might take a second to find," he waved Charles in before he crossed the room to a large wooden desk in the corner. There was not a single free space on the surface of the desk. Reference materials, notes, and sketches covered every available space, except for one corner of the desk with an open box containing what was obviously an early draft of a book.  Theo was careful not to knock that over as he began lifting pages in search of his laptop.

"Oh! I should mention - be careful what you open. There's more than a few magical books in here. One actually turned Xavier and I into birds for a little bit," Theo's grin returned at the memory. "He was a raven, I was a barn owl. It was actually pretty fun."

Mason: "Blissfully brief." Considering he'd walked these hallways before. This was not a business trip, and there was no need to feign ignorance of relation. The formalities were stifling.

Rory all but bounced in his chair. There would be blue, purple, and a glittery gold jewel of a granny smith.

"One day they'll taste like blueberries," said Mason, his smile only partially to blame on his son. Having two separate and dedicated conversations.

Xavier/Devlin: Xavier actually smiled. He wouldn’t ask how many worms were in Devlin’s room; it would take all the fun out of his son’s ‘secret’.

That smile would become a full grin as Rory showed off his ability. Fascinating. And such joy his nephew had in the doing of it, just as it should be.

“My, my, look at that!” Xavier picked up the gold one and examined it closely. “Well done, Rory. This is by far the best apple I’ve ever seen. I have no doubt you’ll make one taste like berries one day.”

Xavier’s delight was only surpassed by Devlin’s. “Make it a swan, Daddy! And make the blue one into bunnies!”

Charles: 'We won't be long, love.' A promise made before the reveal of the magnificent study. One he'd try to keep.

"Thank you," he said to Theo, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. It felt far too callous to say that his life had only improved since his mother's death. Baggage he wouldn't be leaving at this man's door. "The children will love that. They deserve a bit of spoiling.

His eyes grew wider for a moment when the door to the study opened. This was a room he could lose himself in for a few hours. Or days. Theo would not need to make the offer twice, Charles was quick to begin his exploration, trailing lightly freckled fingers over the spines of books as he passed. He could definitely understand this special brand of clutter. When Charles took the time to clear his mind, it usually wound up all over his desk.

"Birds?" he asked, incredulous, pulling a book with gold filigree crawling up its leather spine from the shelf. "Oh, you'll never get me to leave. Dearest apologies, mate. I live here now. How did you manage to... turn yourselves back?"

Theo: "Great, my mom will provide plenty of it," Theo grinned, and he paused in his search as he saw Charles remove a book from the shelves. "That one's safe at least," he chuckled, and then his grin widened at Charles' comments.

"I'll be honest, Xavier and Colleen have both had to drag me out of here an inappropriate amount of times. I tend to... get a little wrapped up in my work. Sometimes eating and sleeping are not really that important when I'm on a roll, but they've started to rope Devlin into getting my attention, and it's surprisingly effective."

Theo reached behind him to pull a green, leather-bound book from a shelf behind his desk. Then he walked over to Charles and offered him said book. Embossed on the cover were various depictions of different birds surrounded by runes and other unrecognizable symbols.

"We were actually turned on two separate occasions. I intentionally opened the book, not knowing what it was, while Xavier's later was an accident. The way to turn back just has to be performed by someone else, so Xavier and I were both able to turn the other back once we discovered what had happened."

He gave Charles a cheeky smile, "if you're ever interested, it's a fun little experience and easy to reverse. I'd be curious to see what you and Mason would be as birds."

Mason: Xavier was given a look. Big brother was having a tough time hiding that smile behind brown eyes.

"Yeah, Xavier, make it a swan. Make a blue bunny. Show of this talent o'yours."

'I felt that,' Mason whispered in Charles' ear. 'Enjoy yourself. I'll be here.' Despite his contention, he wasn't about to pull Charles away from his one true love. That library was going to be absorbed like a sponge.

Xavier: Xavier gave his brother a surprisingly good-natured squint and stood to get a knife from a drawer. "It is a very great talent, I'll have you know," he said as he returned to the table.

Working carefully, and making sure no little fingers or faces got too close to the knife, he got to work carving. The bunnies were simple; a few quick cuts and the blue apple was transformed into an array of bunnies on the plate. The swans took a bit more finessing and time, with Xavier explaining the why of each cut as he made it.

"There we are," he said when he'd finished. "A golden swan."

Charles: Charles flashed Theo another grin. That certainly sounded familiar. Mason had hauled him bodily off to bed on more occasions than he could count. "I can relate," he said simply.

He took the offered book, fingers tracing the symbols curiously as he studied the covered. He'd set this one aside, rather than open it. Better to avoid being transfigured during the first family trip. He said as much to Theo, laughing as he pulled another book from one of the shelves at random. "Perhaps another time. Not sure how the husband would react to being turned into a bird. The children would certainly be entertained."

Theo: Theo returned the grin with one of his own, and nodded towards the other shelves. "Feel free to browse then, we can always save that kinda fun for a rainy day."

It didn't take long for Theo to finish retrieving his laptop from under the papers covering his desk.

"Find anything that interests you?" Theo asked as he returned to Charles' side.

Mason: Mason remained still by Rory's side, the child with the most promise to reach for something he shouldn't. The little show was enjoyed, and he wondered when it was exactly Xavier had learned this trick. Most likely for Devlin, but he wouldn't throw all assumption in one basket.

"Lemme guess, your cook makes lil hot dog octopus, too?"

Xavier/Devlin: A chuckle! It seemed that around the children, he didn't feel the need to keep his guard up quite as much. He was more relaxed, more at ease. Smiles and humor came easier.

"Of course. Ever since I took him to Japan, anything that can be shaped or have a face, is shaped and has a face. Pancakes, fruit, vegetables, sausages, sandwiches. We've gotten quite good at it, haven't we, Devy?"

"Yeah! Can we have teddy bear pancakes?"

"For breakfast tomorrow."

Charles: Charles, who at that point bore a stack of books he could just barely see over, turned away from the shelves with a wry smile. "Ahem. Just a few things." More information than he could get from merely interrogating his friends. "Found your computer?"

Theo: Theo laughed at that, and he offered his free arm, the one not handling his laptop, to help carry a few of Charles' selections.

"Well you're welcome to borrow them as long as you bring them back!" he teased, and he lifted the laptop with an affirming nod.

"Wanna sit down and take a look?" he gestured over to a nearby coffee table and some plush armchairs. "Both at the books, and those sight-seeing ideas?" He flashed Charles a knowing grin. "Mason and Xavier can entertain the kids for a bit while we do some planning?" Planning being a loose term when there was a pile of books between them.

Mason: "Ya lost me at sandwiches." Mason imagined eggs for eyes and black olives for teeth. Some kind of croque madame abomination. And of all thoughts in the universe of Mason to share, this was an image he could not keep to himself. Xavier was gifted this sin with a smirk.

Xavier: "How so? There is a world beyond triangles. You make a sandwich and use a cutter to shape it. " Although apparently that wasn't what came to his brother's mind. Instead he got the tortured image of egg eyes and olive teeth.

Xavier made a face and gave his brother a mild scowl. "That is the most appalling mental image I've ever had, thank you for that. What kind of sandwiches have you been eating?"

Charles: "Of course!" He crossed with his haul, taking a seat wherever was available. "They've got the children occupied. Fruit carving, I believe." At least that was the vague impression he got through their mental link. He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. "Pull up a map of the park? I believe the site mentioned something about a lake and waterfall. Might be a good place to have lunch."

Theo: "Sounds very entertaining," Theo grinned, and he wished he could see it.

Theo placed the laptop on the coffee table, but instead of taking a seat on one of the nearby chairs, he sits cross-legged on the floor.

"Oh! I know the site you're talking about, here- let me pull it up," Theo had done his fair share of exploring the nearby national parks, there were plenty of mysterious missing campers riddled with the signs of supernatural creatures, so he wasn't unfamiliar with it's trails and some of it's special locations.

"I've never been to that place specifically, but I think that'd be a great idea!" He opened a map of the park, and began making a few suggestions for the parts of the park he had visited.

Mason: "I haven't had cucumber sandwich triangles since the 40s. I can tell ya I make a crackin' grilled cheese. Actually," he looked to his son, ruffled at his short hair, "Rory can tell ya." It was breakfast food or bust. He could read from a box with the best of them. Not a skill expected of an Atlas husband, not in living years.

"N'how often ya cookin' for this lil one?"

Xavier: “Both cucumber sandwiches and grilled cheeses are a staple in this house.” And all manner of dainty food really. Teatime in the Atlas household was done properly and done well.

“More often than you might think,” he said, sacrificing an apple bunny and taking a bite of it.

“Daddy makes pancakes!” Devlin chimed in, mirroring his father. “And fish n’ chips and table-ooey!”

Charles: Charles pulled out his mobile, making swift notes of everything Theo mentioned, mentally sorting each location into a rough itinerary for the following morning.

"We'll definitely need to get an early start." Charles was the furthest thing from a morning person, but he would endure, for family. "And we'll need to bring both breakfast and lunch, I think. I wonder if the Atlas brothers will want to hike, or pop from place-to-place." The professor knew which option he preferred, and was even certain that his husband would humour him regardless, but it wouldn't hurt to weigh all opinions.

Theo: "Well, I'm an advocate for hiking, it'll be more fun for the children I think, getting to explore on the way to our destination," he paused in his search on his computer. "And I can have Colleen or one of the girls prepare breakfast for us and we can eat once we're up, or I can have her prepare it, and a lunch to take along, that shouldn't be a problem."

Mason: 'Of course we'll trek the forest like common fae - or bohemians,' Mason gave to his husband telepathically, smiling to himself.

"Is that right? Fish n'chips? In this house?" Xavier was given his own private smile. "I'll believe it when I see it. One of these meals ain't gonna be fancy. Hear me? Gimmie one down home option."

Xavier: Xavier snorted. "When have I ever gone more than a day or two without eating pastry?" He polished off another bunny. "By all means, just tell me what you'd like. Steak and kidney pie? Fish and chips? Yorkshire pudding?"

Devlin leaned closer to whisper to his uncle. "It's not really pudding," he informed him.

Charles: 'I've never been described as bohemian in my life,' he returned, muffling a chuckle where he sat with Theo. 'Shouldn't you be minding our children?'

"Mm. I think you're right. And we can always get them home quickly, if they wear themselves out." When, was more like it. There would be no fussing over bedtime tomorrow evening. He nodded to himself, scrolling through the list he'd made before handing his mobile to Theo. "Look that over to be sure I haven't missed anything? I think we've got a decent plan."

Theo: Theo nodded and took Charles phone when offered and looked over their plan. "Seems good to me, and I'm sure both of our significant others will be happy to play along." He gave Charles a cheeky grin. "Did you want to spend a little more time here, or should we go fill them in on the itinerary?"

Mason: "Well, we said fish n'chips already, so let's go with that." Finger food would always win out with children. Seemed a no-brainer.

'I'm mindin' all the children, ta very much.'

Mason leaned down to his nephew. "What d'ya think a biscuit is?"

Xavier/Devlin: While Xavier stood to relay the request to Christine, Devlin pointed at a tin on the counter. "Cookies! They go in there," he told his uncle. "Daddy says only 'mericans call them cookies but I'm allowed 'cause I'm 'merican. Papa too." He nodded importantly.

Devlin would continue to play the chatterbox until dinner, only taking a breath when he wanted to show something to his uncle and cousins or take them somewhere inside the house.

By the time they all sat at the table for dinner, Mason, Rory, and Cynthia had been given a grand tour.

Xavier hadn't been able to get the smile off his face all afternoon. It was wonderful to see his son so happy. It made all of this worth it.

Charles: 'Oh, well I do beg your pardon, dearest.' He let his amusement curl across their connection, smiling privately as Theo looked over their rough itinerary.

Charles would cast his vote for further exploration of the book collection. The brothers and cousins appeared to be getting along swimmingly on their own. They had been the purpose of this visit, after all. When they were finally pulled away for dinner, Charles' heart was brimming on behalf of his little family. They were headed in the right direction.

Theo: Happy to oblige, Theo also voted for spending more time in his own personal library. In truth, Charles was the only person outside of his mother and the other mansion residents to see his study, and he was pleased to be able to show it off to someone else. Xavier had excellent taste, and knew Theo very well.

By the time dinner rolled around Theo was pleased to see Devlin getting along so well with his cousins, and relieved that there was a genuine smile on Xavier's lips. Theo moved to Xavier's side and laced a few of their fingers together. "Having a good time?" Theo he asked, leaning in so only his demon could hear.

Mason: "That ya are, baby boy." His little American nephew. The realization stirred mixed feelings in his gut. His nephew needed more experiences in Yorkshire. Couldn't say it was in his blood, but it was in their fractured souls.

Only the sight of servants put a damper on Mason's smile. Not as though a maid and cook had been absent in their childhood, but this was more, and it was distracting.

Again and again the demon was forced to refocus on their reason for being here. Sometimes, it was easier than others. Once out of the house, the tension visibly lessened from his shoulders. Enough to return his smile, spoiling the children with shoulder rides and swinging from their hands.

They were normal, from an outside perspective.

Xavier: Devlin may have been distracting all and sundry with his antics and enthusiasm, but Xavier remained very observant. Enough to notice that the presence of his staff seemed to bother his brother. Why? He hadn't the faintest idea. They'd been raised with domestic staff. But rather than pick a fight, he discreetly told Hamilton to retire to the kitchen while the family ate.

The whole house would have their dinner at the same time.

Xavier lifted Theo's hand to his lips. "Don't worry about me," he whispered. "I'm having a fine time, and more importantly so is Devlin."

And he was having a fine time. Determinedly. There was good food and excellent wine and their son was happy, and happy to entertain everyone while his father ate in relative silence.

Charles: Charles had meant what he'd said in his discussion with Theo. This day of exploration was going to leave their children drained in the best way. He forced himself out of bed at the crack of dawn, meeting with his co-planner to ensure that everything was ready to go. Whatever tension lay between the Atlas brothers was not his priority. He was quite happily occupied with supervising games of tag, assisting in the catching of frogs and lizards, and offering a wealth of knowledge that most people found utterly useless. He was sure to be as exhausted as the kids, by day's end.

Theo: When Theo woke the next day, while a little later than Charles, he had just as much energy and dedication to their cause. He worked alongside his new partner-in-fun, happily providing some survivalist tips- like what was edible and not in the forest around them- and how to find little, supernatural creatures, like a harmless pixie or sprite when he could. He mostly followed Charles' lead, seeing as he wasn't as experienced with handling so many children at once, but by the end of the day he felt great knowing the children had a blast. Once they were home, he was more than ready for the energy to settle.

Mason: Wasn't long before Mason reluctantly crawled out of bed after Charles. A scorching shower to wake him. Twenty minutes to nitpick at his beard, his clothes, stalling for as long as possible before greeting his children became his sole motivation for leaving the guest room.

So long as every child was all smiles, then this was worth the tension building with every hour in his shoulders. Each tug of Cynthia's hand, every question, every photo she took of landscapes, her brother, her father, reminded him why they were doing this. And by the end of the day, despite the self-inflicted ache in his back, the demon managed a natural smile to his brother.

Xavier: At least in this, the Atlas brothers were of one mind.

His son's happiness had been Xavier's sole motivation for getting up, getting dressed, speaking politely to Mason, and agreeing to spend an entire day in the woods doing his part to wrangle the children.

And it wasn't that bad, really. In fact, he could admit privately to himself that he enjoyed it just a bit. How could he not? Devlin was so happy to have cousins to play with and Theo was delighted to have a new friend. His own resentments and reservations didn't matter. He would happily and patiently spend hours explaining to Devlin that no, he couldn't take the pixie home and no, he couldn't turn his bathroom into a frog pond.

By the end of the day, he even suspected that perhaps--just maybe--his brother felt the same. If nothing else, they'd managed to settle into a sort of truce and smile at each other with something that could be called fondness.

MJ: A perfectly spherical glassy green orb appeared in Ramsay's lap. From behind, MJ had slowed to a near halt. Whatever reason Ramsay was here had yet been determined, but the man was on MJ's good side. Good or bad, the treatment was the same. The glass orb exploded into neon orange confetti and disappeared with a fanfare of a kazoo.

"Sup, sexy? What cha doin' here?"

Ramsay: Ramsay only had time to squint at the glass ball and wonder where it came from before it exploded confetti all over him. Loudly.

“Fucking shit!” he shouted, springing up like he was on fire.

Of course it was MJ.

Ramsay lobbed an acorn at him. “Having a bloody heart attack, no thanks to you,” he laughed.

MJ: "Ha!" Ramsay was given a pat on the cheek. "You'll live." For some reason that reminded him. "Ya know, love seein' your face, but why ain't your face Abel's face?"

Ramsay: “Also no thanks to you.”

Ramsay’s face lost its easy humor at MJ’s question. No getting around it now.

He took one last drag from his cigarette and stomped it out. “Abel’s face is indisposed. And speaking of faces.” He nodded toward the picnic table he’d been sitting on and lit another cigarette.

“Why don’t you take a seat, mate?”

MJ: "Sup?" Being told to sit down was a universal red flag, wasn't it? One that had him wanting to stand instead. Pillaring his position.

"Someone dead?"

Ramsay: Ramsay nodded. Even if MJ didn’t sit, he would. Heavy news needed a chair. Or a picnic table.

“You could say that, yeah.”

MJ: "Dead dead, or 'well shit' dead?"

Ramsay: “Latter.” Ramsay sighed. “Xavier ever mention his father to you?”

6:58 PM] MJ: So, Xavier. Or someone close to Xavier when...

"Just vague shit. Skip t'the end."

Ramsay: “The old man kidnapped Xavier and tortured him.”

There. Bandage ripped off.

MJ: "Kidnapped? Like, for random kidnap?" His method of coping rearing its head. Nitpicking at the details.

Ramsay: He shook his head. “Kidnap like he’s a psychopathic old tosser who had nothing better to do.”

MJ: "But he's like me. We're already dead, so... he's...?"

Ramsay: “In a new body. His old one was fucking destroyed.”

MJ: MJ just nodded, looking at the ground. "How long he have him?"

Ramsay: “I don’t fucking know, mate,” Ramsay sighed, shaking his head.

“Based on what I saw? Had to have been hours. But X ain’t talkin’.”

MJ: Just hours. Not days or - no, couldn't have been weeks. He would have known. He hadn't been gone that long.

"Let's go home."

Ramsay: MJ was taking it better than he’d been expecting, but then Ramsay hadn’t gone into detail. Nor would he.

What he saw in that church was something he would take to his grave. He and Rohan dealt with it so no one else had to, because it had to be done, and because they were equipped to do it.

The burden was theirs.

Ramsay nodded and put out his cigarette.

“Right then.” He got his tools and talismans out of his pockets and performed the spell that would carry them back to the manor.

MJ: Very different working with Ramsay's magic. Gave him time to dwell on what he was about to see. Xavier was the epitome of confidence and poise. The man only buckled once, and a handful of salt had been involved. Even at MJ's worst, yelling and split in two, Xavier had kept his resolve. And that had been with his brother involved. He could only imagine what he was about to walk in on.

And who better to comfort him? he thought. Not years in Hell, but weeks in his - Victoria's - basement. Piano wire through his hands and wrists and wrapped around his tendons like a bow. He knew pain. But he had to wonder if that lent anything here.

Ramsay's shoulder was given a squeeze. His first assumption was the bedroom, so that's where he was heading.

Ramsay/Rohan: Ramsay nodded, offering what passed for a smile as he watched MJ walk up the stairs. "Fuck the gods,” he sighed, lighting another cigarette and heading for the kitchen.

MJ's assumption was correct. Xavier was in his bedroom staring into the fire while Abel--in dog form--rested his head on his lap. The record player had been brought in so Mozart could attempt to lighten the mood.

Rohan, meanwhile, was waiting for MJ at the door.

MJ: Rohan was to be expected, just not so soon. Given his stance at the door, MJ was ready to argue his permission to pass. Argue, or push his old companion out of the way. He'd rather it not come to that.

"Got it from Ramsay," MJ whispered his greeting. "He's not talkin'?"

Rohan: MJ wouldn’t have to push or argue anything. Rohan had no intention to deny him entry or try to talk him out of seeing Xavier or anything else.

He shook his head. “No,” he whispered back. “He hasn’t said a word since Thursday when Abel brought him home.”

MJ: "What he say 'fore then?"

Rohan was given a once over. Not that this happened to him, but this was Rohan, and he was just short of an empath.

Rohan: One didn’t need to be an empath to feel the worry and exhaustion practically oozing out of Rohan’s pores. It had been a trying few days.

“Abel told us he said less than five words total. Nothing about what happened.”

MJ: "Why didn't y'all fuckin' call me? I coulda helped."

Rohan: “You’ll have to,” Rohan said quietly. “We haven’t buried him yet.”

MJ: "Buried, what?" A pause. "Y'all still got his old body? Why would y'all keep that?"

Rohan: “Christian’s body was his vessel for over fifty years, MJ. He deserves a decent burial or a dignified pyre, whichever Xavier decides.”

MJ: Guess Xavier would cross that bridge when he wanted to. For now, "Y'all got some magic woo-woo over the body or somethin'?"

Rohan: He nodded. “The body is at my cabin. We’re preserving it until Xavier is ready for a funeral.”

MJ: MJ pinched between his eyes. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this. There was a reason Rovena had chosen him as her Ravnos childe. His culture, his treatment of life and death was not the same as those in this house. Not that Calloways didn't have funeral traditions, but something about this put a thin layer of film over his body. Reminded him of the muck Abel and Peter had walked through crossing realms.

"I'm gonna walk in. Anything else I need t'know?"

Rohan: Rohan saw the frustration in that gesture but what could he do? This wasn’t up to him. Or for him for that matter.

“Yes. I need you to do me a favor.”

MJ: "Sup?" he asked, dropping his hands to his thighs.

Rohan: “I know it’s difficult but as much as you can…” He sighed. “Try not to look…surprised.”

MJ: MJ pointed his thumb to the door. "This man is still gonna dress like he's goin' t'the Ritz. Sits with me when I'm suckin' on a fuckin' bag of blood. He murders people for fun. Ya think I'm gonna gasp like a paid harlot when I see him?"

Rohan: “I don’t think that for a moment. But that man? He has a new face and try as we might it’s instinct to look surprised when we see a new face. He’s the same person, that hasn’t changed but his face has and the look he gave me when I first saw him and didn’t recognize him is going to haunt me until the day I die. He was crushed. So please. All I ask is that you try to lessen that instinct to look surprised so he doesn’t give you that look.”

MJ: "Did Abel not tell ya what happened to his face? It was Abel that found him, right?"

Rohan: Rohan nodded. “Yes he did. He found him and he told us what happened and I saw what happened.”

MJ: "But ya still didn't... figure the new faced dude was him?"

Rohan: “Instinct, MJ. I knew it was him but the face was different and I reacted. It was instinct.”

MJ: He'd already been playing human before arrival; the sigh suited the façade.

"You're always waitin' on the other side of doors."

Rohan: Rohan gave MJ a tired smile. “Today, guarding this door means guarding him. I’m his agent. Who’s going to guard him if not me?”

MJ: "The rest of the house. No one's gettin' in this place. Why don't ya go make yourself some tea."

Rohan: “The rest of the house doesn’t even know what’s happened. Just you and me and Abel and Ramsay.”

Rohan nodded and patted MJ on the shoulder. “I’ll do that. Abel’s in there with him.”

MJ: MJ straightened. "Fuckin' why? Where does Devlin think he's dad's been this whole time?"

Rohan: “They think he’s feeling ill which isn’t far off the mark. No one except us is allowed in these rooms for now.”

MJ: Hands covered his face for a long wipe down. "Thought everyone in this house knew he's a demon."

Rohan: “All except the seven year-old. And even if they do know, they’re human. They have human perspectives and their employer having a new body is a lot to digest.”

MJ: "They've fuckin' all watched Doctor Who. I think y'all are makin' this out bigger than it is. He's... He's Xavier. What matters is someone fucked with him n'they need their ass beat. What doesn't matter is what shape his nose is n'what color his eyes are."

Rohan: “Someone tortured him, MJ,” Rohan said softly. “His father tortured him and tore him out of his body and he was awake for all of it.”

MJ: "And that's what should fuckin' matter. Not him lookin' fuckin' different. If y'all make that a big deal then it's a big fuckin' deal."

Rohan: “The face may not be a big deal to you but how it came to be is. The two are linked together and maybe someday they won’t be but right now they are.”

MJ: He'd almost said something harsh. It wasn't for him to say, and it wasn't for him to say to Rohan. From his understanding, that wasn't Xavier's face to begin with. Didn't matter how it was obtained. Xavier should know that. He was a thief. Taking things that didn't belong to them was part of life. Part of life was having a thief take it right back.

He wiped his face again.

"Tea n'all that. Goin' in."

Without thinking, he leaned forward, kissed Rohan's forehead before opening the door.

Rohan/Xavier: That brought the smile back, tired as it was. “All right. I’ll be back in a bit.”

MJ would find Xavier half sitting up in bed, clad in one of his dressing gowns.

The skin of his new body was pale and unblemished. Long dark hair had replaced the chestnut waves while icy blue eyes replaced warm hazel ones.

Though it was hard to tell from this position, he also stood a couple of inches shorter and was considerably less broad than before. And his face, that brand new, angelic-looking face, reflected pure exhaustion.

MJ: Dressing gowns. The man still showed his age. This man, however, looked right at home in that gown. That was a face plucked straight from a novel. It was hauntingly beautiful. He couldn't say it was his type, but it was stunning nonetheless.

The chin was narrower, nose long and pointed. Reminded him of that bird that hung around. Those eyes were chilly, but that stance was Xavier. That faraway look he rarely saw, it was still Xavier's gaze.

Without word, MJ climbed into bed, kicked his sneakers off, and rolled onto his back. Inch by inch he made his way over to that new body, ready to plop his head in that new lap.

Xavier/Abel: Abel noticed MJ’s presence first, wagging his tail at the vampire’s approach. Not as energetic as usual but still glad to see him.

Xavier didn’t notice anything at all until he felt the bed shift under MJ’s weight.

He startled, instinctively pulling the covers closer until he saw that it was MJ and the surprise turned to confused dread and then to…something. It was hard to tell but it looked like anticipation of doom.

He was waiting for it. Waiting for that look.

MJ: There would be no look. He'd had all of the travel with Ramsay, the walk through the house, the talk with Rohan, the three seconds of staring to prepare. He meant what he'd said outside of this room, and that look of dread from his old friend was as easily ignored as the new face it came from.

This was still Xavier's lap, and this wasn't his first time with his head resting on this thigh. Probably a smaller thigh, from the feel of it, but still, this thigh.

"Man, that last delivery was borin' as fuck. Got t'talk t'Jeremy, though. Keep fuckin' forgettin' he's like seven hours ahead of me. Went down a dirt road. Thought I was gonna get fuckin' eaten by a goddamn werewolf. I really need t'buy another gun."

Xavier/Abel: Confusion won out over the dread and anticipation of doom.

MJ wasn’t…reacting. He was talking like normal, acting like normal. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed.

Xavier wracked his brain in an attempt to remember if vampires could see true forms when his mind went off on a tangent.

Jeremy Murray. The arrangement. How would that work now? He didn’t see the man every day but he had to see him sometime if the arrangement was to continue. How would he explain his new face without blowing his cover entirely?

And down the rabbit hole he went.

'Quick, say something more,' Abel thought at MJ. 'We're losing him.'

MJ: If MJ could swat Abel away he would. Don't get too excited, familiar. He probably feels that.

"Why did I think I was gonna get eaten by a werewolf? Glad ya asked. Could hear howlin' in the woods when I was on the phone. Didn't tell him. Wanted to. What good would that do, ya know? He's been dealin' with vampires his whole life. No tellin' what he'd do if I added that. But any fuckin' way, didn’t sound normal. Kept gettin' closer. Sounded like three of em. Was on the way t'Charlotte. Miiiight have t'take another route."

Xavier: He didn’t feel that but nevertheless, MJ’s voice succeeded in pulling him back from that faraway place he went to so often these past couple of days.

Xavier’s brow furrowed in concern. He didn’t like the idea of MJ traveling a road traveled by werewolves. He was always alone on these deliveries what if something happened. He needed protection, a—

“Bodyguard.”

MJ: MJ just smiled, made a playful face. "A bodyguard? Been workin' on my dweomer every chance I get. That shit I did in Chicago feels like a fluke. Ya know, makin' somethin' move on its own. It's like... I dunno. I dunno what I was thinkin' at the time. But! I've had this idea of makin' replicas of myself. Not t'do anything, but make someone think I'm not alone."

Xavier: The sound of his own voice still startled him and his face reflected it; he just stared at MJ for a few seconds, blinking.

But once again, surprise gave way to other emotions. Ones that brought back that thousand-yard stare.

He’d seen that spell used before. Fifty years ago, in this very house.

MJ: Slowly, one might say cautiously, MJ reached up to brush his fingertips along Xavier's new jaw. Skin like a newborn baby. Years with telepaths, he'd learned the bare minimum to keep his thoughts to himself. He certainly would that.

"Who'd ya want me t'bring?"

Xavier: Even as slowly as MJ moved, Xavier startled again, just as unaccustomed to having this new face touched as he was to the sound of his own voice.

“Ramsay.”

MJ: "Why Ramsay? I mean he's a fuckin' keg with legs n'I love him, but is he a fighter n'I just didn't know?"

Xavier: “He’s from East London.”

MJ: "Oh, well, that explains everything," he softly laughed. Nothing too loud or too harsh.

"Missed the fuck outta ya, man."

Xavier: Xavier took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. Well, MJ had gone and done it now.

The man who had spent the past one hundred years not crying in front of anyone now couldn’t seem to stop himself.

MJ: "Hey, hey. Hug my head, man." Xavier's hand was gently taken, encouraged forward. "Go 'head."

Xavier: Rather than hug MJ’s head, Xavier just squeezed his hand for all he was worth.

This had been the longest week of his life. Everything was wrong and upside down, nothing felt comfortable, nothing felt as it usually did. There was too much that was new. He just wanted something familiar.

Now here MJ was, giving him something familiar and it still wasn’t comfortable because now Xavier was wrong and upside down.

But rather than find a way to convey any of that, he gave it to MJ telepathically. Talking was just another reminder of how ruined it all was.

MJ: Such a strange feeling, having thoughts not your own. Felt wrong. He would never say so out loud, but it felt like a mental illness. A unique insanity with a friend's voice attached.

"You're not fuckin' ruined. If you're ruined, I'm ruined. Know what I mean? Ya woulda told me the same, back then. Ya'd tell me the same now. So don't ya dare."

Xavier: Xavier took a few deep, shuddering breaths. MJ may not have been ruined and he may not have been ruined but everything else was. Every last aspect of his life.

“My baby.”

MJ: "What he's gonna think?"

Xavier: “I don’t look like him anymore,” he said, breath hitching on a sob. “He has my eyes. That’s all he had of me and now that’s gone. I don’t look like my baby anymore.”

MJ: "Hey, we can change that. And," MJ thought a moment. No one had said anything, according to Rohan. "Lemme take care of Devlin, okay?"

Xavier: “We can’t change it. He looks like my old body and my old body is gone. Magic can’t change things and make it so he came from this body.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

MJ: He was talking. Right now, that was progress.

"Yeah, he came from some other body's sperm, but he's a piece of you. Your soul. Not Joe Shumck down the road. That's gotta mean somethin' more than what color eyes he's got.

"I mean lemme explain t'him why ya look different."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. He didn’t have the strength or the desire to stop MJ from taking some of the weight off his shoulders.

“He’s only seven. This is too much for him. It’s too much for me. How is he going to understand? How do you understand?”

MJ: You don't want my answer.

"Not like your soul changed color, or I'm talkin' to a stranger." He considered a moment. Almost. He could almost say it, but no. Not now, probably not ever. Not to Xavier. To Rohan, sure. To Ramsay, maybe. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his belief; he doubted saying what he thought would dry the tears, demon or not.

"It won't be too much. He's seven."

Xavier: “I’m not so sure about that. About my soul.” It certainly felt like it was a different color. Just one more thing that felt wrong and upside down.

“He’s a baby. An innocent little baby that thinks his daddy is magic and can do no wrong.”

MJ: "His daddy is magic. One day he has t'know what he is, n'what ya are. But right now... he can know somethin' else, n'have somethin' t'brood about when he's a teenager."

Xavier: “He thinks I’m sick. I can hear his little hand knocking on the bedroom door when he gets home from school because he wants to see me to make me feel better.”

MJ: "I'm a big advocate of lyin', most of the time." Let's just leave it at that. "I'm gonna go talk t'your boy. 'Less ya want me t'wait on Theo or some shit."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Yes, wait for him. I don’t know when he’ll be home but it would be wrong to talk to Devy without him there. Fuck, and Theo…”

He sank further into the bed. “How the hell is Theo going to deal with any of this?”

MJ: "If he only loves ya for your looks, he doesn't love ya."

Xavier: “He doesn’t—god only knows why—but they matter.”

MJ: "Looks matter? I mean, comin' from a guy that dresses like a millionaire, I get it, but there's gotta be more than that. If Rohan looked like Brad Pitt, he'd still look like a prince. If ya looked like Edward Norton, I'd forgive ya."

Xavier: “Of course they matter. Being attracted to the person you’re with is important, it’s part of the whole…” He gestured vaguely.

He lifted his head to look at MJ. “Who is Edward Norton?”

MJ: "But what are they attracted to? Your nose? Your hair? Or the way ya smile, the way ya do your eyes when you're overthinkin'. Does Theo love the way ya bite your lip, or does he just love your lip?"

MJ held his hand up in disgust. "We're gonna watch Fight Club."

Xavier: “How should I know? But whatever he was attracted to is gone because now I’m,” he gestured again, “this.”

“What’s Fight Club?”

MJ: MJ sat up with an old man groan. For show.

"You'll know what kinda man he is when he comes home. If he's some shallow prick n'we didn't know all along, I'mma kick his ass. If he still loves ya, then goddamn right he should. We'll know, won't we?"

Rough hands cupped Xavier's face. He began to look him over. Not in shock and awe, but in earnest, as though this were a wound which needed tending.

"Mm. Hmm. Nah. S'still you in there. Pretty sure this is Sulfur Boy. I mean, you're dressed like fuckin' Ebenezer Scrooge, but that's kinda X's thing."

Xavier: Xavier was still waiting for that look. How could he do anything else? This was a new face, a face MJ wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t been told who he was and somehow, that look still wasn’t making an appearance.

“Ebenezer Scrooge never wore Italian silk robes. He wore long nightshirts and one of those caps.”

MJ: "You're gettin' one of them caps for Christmas. Fit right in with your aesthetic, old man."

Seemed to be doing the trick. The crying had stopped. Being argumentative had its merits.

"Hey. I fuckin' love you."

Xavier: “I’ll wear it if it’s made out of Italian silk.”

MJ was going to start the crying back up again with sentiments like that. “I fucking love you, too.”

MJ: "Now, I'm gonna go steal someone's fuckin' laptop n'we're gonna fuckin' watch Fight Club. You're gonna learn t'day."

Xavier: “Why do you need a laptop? There’s a television in the sitting room.”

MJ: "That television gonna pull up my Google thingy?"

Xavier: “It should. It pulls up all those other services.”

MJ: "That means movin'."

Xavier: “It can be brought in here.”

MJ: "Ya can be brought in there. Or, or I steal that laptop n'I get in sweatpants."

Xavierl: “Do that then. I don’t want to move. Get mine from the study.”

MJ: "Alright. Ya don't wanna move. Ya got two more passes 'fore I'm gonna need a note from your doctor," MJ smiled.

Xavier: Xavier pointed at Abel. “He’s right there. He accepts all major insurance carriers and chicken legs.”

MJ: The Ravnos' smile broadened. Sounding a little more like himself. "Gonna get the shit. Be right back."

Xavier/Abel: “We’ll be here.”

Abel hopped off the bed and changed into his human form. “We need popcorn!” he shouted, dashing out of the room.

MJ: Having to wait for Theo, he thought. Being one of the last in the house to know, along with the servants. Hamilton should know, he continued musing. He stripped down and redressed for a movie night. The laptop in the study was as good as any. He'd put it back, he swears.

Xavier/Abel: Abel would still be downstairs seeing to their refreshments when MJ returned to the bedroom, so all the vampire would find was Xavier in another trance with another thousand-yard stare.

It was bound to keep happening unless there was something occupying his attention.

MJ: And occupy he shall. MJ pulled up YouTube and typed in for Daily Dose of Internet. The laptop was placed near the foot of the bed, full screen to distract Xavier with a man explaining how to stop a snake from eating itself with hand sanitizer; the video then jumped to a captain of a boat being thrashed around by waves; an old woman cussing like a sailor while playing GTA 5; a woman attacked by a glitter bomb fake package stolen from a tech nerd's doorstep.

Xavier/Abel: It was a very good distraction. Getting too into his own head was impossible when he was trying to figure out the appeal of stealing something unknown or why someone would want to play what appeared to be a thoroughly frustrating video game.

“Back!” Abel greeted when he returned a few minutes later with an armful of food. “We’ve got popcorn, we’ve got wine, we’ve got cake! And for our favorite vampire we have some fresh Olympian juice!”

MJ: "Ya know, when ya put it that way, s'like everyone's a walkin' vegetable."

For some people, where was the lie?

"Alright. Lemme pull this shit up. Whose fuckin' laptop is this, anyway?"

Xavier/Abel: “They’re not not walking vegetables,” said Abel, setting everything down. The blood bag was offered to MJ and some wine poured for Xavier, who frowned at MJ’s question.

“It’s the one from the study, isn’t it?” The demon looked it over. “It’s mine.”

MJ: "Ah. I don't feel guilty, then." Signed into his account, the movie was pulled up and put full screen. The laptop returned where everyone could see.

"Ever have chili and lime in your popcorn? Should try it."

Xavier/Abel: “Had it with chili before,” said Abel, settling beside Xavier. “Never lime though. Next time.” Because he was too lazy to go back to the kitchen.

“What is this film about?” asked Xavier.

MJ: "'Bout a man tired of monotony. That's all you're gettin'."

Xavier: “All right.” Xavier sipped his wine. “Is the man this Edward Norton?”

MJ: "Look at that scrawny fuck."

Abel: Abel snorted. “Not everyone can be a big, swarthy vampire. Or even just big and swarthy.”

MJ: "Hey, this was years of baseball and trouble."

Abel: “You definitely earned your swarthiness,” said Abel, nodding sagely as he shoved an enormous handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Norton’s just a skinny dude. Even if he was jacked he would still be a skinny dude.”

MJ: "That's called a twink, n'they have a place in my heart, too. Just not that one. Somethin' 'bout him always rubbed me wrong."

Abel: Abel squinted at the screen. “I think it’s his face. Like he looks like an average dude but also like he’s up to something shady.”

MJ: "I liked him in Red Dragon."

Xavier: “What is Red Dragon?” asked Xavier.

MJ: Each time Xavier opened his mouth was a win in MJ's opinion.

"Movie-slash-book 'bout serial killers. One bein' hunted, the other in prison helpin' em find the one out."

Xavier/Abel: He narrowed his eyes. That sounded almost familiar.

“It’s one of the Hannibal Lecter movies,” Abel offered.

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of that.”

MJ: "But have ya seen or read em?"

Xavier: “I don’t believe so.”

MJ: "Ya will soon. Wanna read or watch?"

Xavier: “Watch. Reading requires far too much energy.”

MJ: "You'll get back into it."

Xavier: “Perhaps,” Xavier said softly, sinking further into the covers.

MJ: Popcorn began flying across the bed to Abel's mouth. A little game between vampire and familiar while they watched.

Abel: Any game with food was Abel’s favorite game. He caught nearly all the pieces of popcorn in his mouth, and what wasn’t caught was offered to Xavier in between explaining things happening in the movie.

“How much you wanna bet random dudes everywhere started fight clubs after this movie came out?” he asked aloud.

MJ: "It was a reply to the boomer generation. A celebration of gen x takin' back their manhood." MJ rarely had answers like this, which said something he didn't even notice.

Abel: Abel turned to MJ with a smile, impressed. “Well listen to you! You’re a regular movie historian.”

MJ: "Just shit I like." More popcorn was thrown at Abel's face.

Xavier/Abel: Abel would continue to catch what he could and offer Xavier what he couldn’t, but only for a while.