AN:This chapter may be shorter than the rest since (as stated in the previous chapter) it was supposed to be part of chapter 2. ANYWAY it get's dark. And Angsty. And a few flashbacks about what has happened since Charles was six and Erik was 12. Enjoy~

Er... I hope the flashbacks don't bother you much X\ ANd hopefully this explains some things!

He's blocking her out.

Raven knows that their connection is still there; she feel's Charles' presence in her mind, just at the edge if her consciousness. It's warming, comforting, just like when he coos her to sleep after another vision.

She trips and stumbles on the carpet. Charles helps her up and quickly continues to pull her down the hallway before tossing open the door to a partially empty guest room. He shuffles quickly to the closet and slides the door to the left, motioning for the 12 year old to enter.

((There are footsteps in the hallway, and each step is like a dark threat left hanging in the air))

Raven's throat constricts painfully as she settles against the closet wall, hugging her knees. Tears are spilling down her morphing cheeks and a shuddering sigh escapes her parted lips. She looks up at Charles, afraid and confused.

"He won't find us here, Charles. C'mon!" She whispers frantically. A wave of comfort washes over here. This isn't right. She knows, she knows that Charles is just as fearful as she is. Charles smiles at her kindly, and she knows without having to be a telepath. Her eyes go impossibly wide and she can't move a muscle as the door slides shut, leaving only thin bars of light across the darkness.

Charles stands before the single bed, facing the heavy wooden door as it violently swings open.

"He's pure evil!" Raven thinks pointedly at Charles. She feels a tug of amusement from their connection. A dark shudder crawls down her spine. Charles' voice is low as he locks eyes with the man standing in the doorway.

"He's our step-father."

They got the news a week after Charles' tenth birthday. He knows before the dark Scion tC rolled into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the silver-rimmed tires.

A tall, well-built and gruff man would stand on their doorstep with a false gaze of anguish, a sorrowful frown and rehersed tears as he lies through his teeth.

"There was an-ah, incident, an explosion at the lab. I'm terribly, terribly sorry" (A choked out sound, somewhere between a gasp and a chuckle) "I'm so sorry, Miss Sharon, but there was nothing I could do. Brian, Brian is dead."

His name is Kurt Marko.

He's the devil.

"What did you tell your mother?" Kurt growls, his fist pressing against the doorway. His hair is disheveled, eyes fierce and crazed, black shirt rumpled and his body poised at the doorway like an animal about to pounce on its prey. Charles smiles kindly, serving only to add fuel to Kurt's burning rage. The man takes two steps forward, eyes darting around the room.

"I only told her that-" CHarles doesn't even get to finish. The taller, older and heavier man took a step forward and sent is palm crashing against Charles' cheek.

"What do I always tell you?" Kurt shouts, towering before the fallen child. Charles doesn't pay heed to the red imprint on his cheek and looks up at the huffing man.

"Do not speak to mother." Charles replies obediently.

"So what," Kurt bends on his knees as he speaks," was so important that you had to disobey me?" He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of Charles' wavy brown locks, tilting the child's head so that they locked eyes. "Well?" Kurt growls, tightening his hold.

"I told her that, perhaps it would be best if she put that bottle of brandy she had hidden in the back of the closet back in the lounge and slowed on the binge drinking." Charles replies stoically, his wide blue eyes piercing and fierce.

The next slap hurts slightly more than the first.

He can't feel it.

It's been like this for how long now? A year, two?

All his happiness and joy, all those smiles and laughs-it was like they'd be sucked into a dark void, hidden in some chest somewhere and locked away for good. He felt bitter at best-the depraving loneliness that he once felt when he was much younger was replaced by flashes of pain and anguish but now?

He felt nothing.

And whenever the man that replaced the title of his father (but no, he could never replace his true father, the man that loved them when he could, that would spend months away and not send word, the man that-that...)

He couldn't feel.

He stood beside the blonde, petite girl that was Raven and held her hand as she cried and sobbed and whimpered against his shoulder. He watched in, not sadness, but anger as the woman that shunned him and his sister held onto Kurt Marko like a lifeline and wept against his broad shoulder.

The rain fell all around the sea of black clothes, making up for the tears he couldn't cry.

It's that same night that Raven tells him that she saw him again-the poor boy that's been in her dreams for so long. Erik, Erik Lehnsherr.

"He's asleep" She tells him. "A strange man comes to his bed and injects his arm with a clear red liquid. Erik thrashes a bit but he can't wake up." She's crying as she tells him this. He hugs her and slowly the sniffling subsides and is replaced with slow breathing.

He wishes he can tell her that everything will be fine, smile at her and tell her that even though their father isn't there, he'll protect her just like before.

But he can't. He feels like he'd be lying to her. He shuts his eyes as he places the blanket he's covered in on Raven and hugs her against him all the same. The cold in the room doesn't affect him one bit.

And the darkness in the room is nothing compared to the darkness in his heart, the loneliness he feels every day.

Charles is sprawled on the floor, breathing shallowly through his nose. His mouth tastes of bitterness and iron, of blood and vile. His eyes haven't left his assailant's, and Kurt seems angrier than before. His cheek feels warm (but it doesn't hurt. This pain is nothing, nothing compared to what he used to feel before.) It's been only six hard slaps, each one carrying more strength than the last.

Kurt grins wickedly very suddenly and Charles feels his blood drain. The man's eyes gaze through the room before landing on the closet. Charles feels a wave of anger\hatred\hostility overflow his mind and he bites his lip from abusing his power.

"You know, your momma's always babblin' about some little girl livin' here, your sister Raven..." Kurt's grinning sadistically. "I've personally never seen her, but some of the workers have confirmed it." Kurt turns and stares at Charles wickedly. "Maybe it's time for us to get to know each other, ne Charlie?" Kurt walks towards the closet, and both are aware of the heavy breathing and choked out sobs from the closet.

"Raven dear, do you think you can remain in your other form for a moment?" Sharon asks sweetly. Her head is facing the blue, scaly seven year old before her but her eyes are turned away from Raven.

And then Charles feels it, a steady rush of disgust and disbelief that nearly shocks him. Tears gather in his eyes as Raven shifts to her typical blonde hair and blue eyed form, a grin on her face. Charles knows she's proud to finally have the courage to show their 'mother' her powers. Charles' eyes skim past his sister before landing on Sharon once more.

'How can this-' Charles is startled at the foreign thought that flashes through his mind. 'And, oh god, what if other's hear of this? I'll never step foot from the house-lock her up? No, Brian will be furious-disgusting. -''

At the age of seven and a half, while his sister reveals her true form, and power, to Sharon Xavier, Charles discovered his own power.

"I told her to clear her mind and realize that she married the worst, most awful filth in the world! A scum!" Charles shouts, standing defiantly behind Kurt, whose hand is splayed flat against the white painted wood of the closet door.

The fist to the stomach knocks Charles to the floor. He can't breath in as the pressure knocked the wind from his lungs and he groans as he turns to face the closet.

"Everything will be alright" He tells Raven, not completely sure that he's even looking at her from one of the gaps. His eyes shut tight as a kick is delivered to his ribs, and what he knows should be pain causes tingles up his torso. Breathing becomes a chore and he's more than sure that he's broken a rib already. Still, he can't risk Raven and he closes his eyes, reaches out for the eerily dark mind hovering close. It's hard to lock onto those certain thoughts he wants, needs to find, but once he's sure he has them all he wipes them clean. His mind aches, but he isn't rendered unconscious.

He's only ever done this once before, but if Kurt remembers Raven, then he's failed. He'd have failed Raven. He'd have failed his father.

The next kick is less powerful, but aimed for his face (He realizes much too late that he had been gazing at Kurt blankly). His head snaps as his face crashes against the carpet, forced to look at the closet. His lip is streaming blood rampantly, he can't stop his vision from swimming and his nose-oh god-he knows it's broken. But he doesn't cry out. He doesn't truly feel the pain and for once he's glad.

Charles' heart twinges slightly in pain.

He knows Raven is watching.

"It's okay, Raven. Everything is alright. He'll leave, I'll wash up and we'll sleep together in my room, if you want. I'll read you any story you want, and then we'll fall asleep together in case you have a nightmare. Everything is okay, it's alright. Raven, everything's okay. I'm fine. It's okay, it's okay-"

And Raven cries harder, hidden in the shadows as Charles continues to whisper soothing things in her mind, sending waves of love and comfort. Despite everything, Raven finds herself calming down, lulled by Charles' soft voice in her mind.

But everything is not okay, nothing is fine because this isn't supposed to be happening; she should be comforting Charles, he's teh one being beaten into a bloody mess before her eyes and Kurt Marko shouldn't be here at all. Brian should be here, tickling Charles' ribs instead of breaking them and she bites her lip to keep from crying out as she closes her eyes and let's Charles comfort her into a false sense of safety.

Because nothing is okay.

Charles is laying in bed, his head on Raven's small lap as she cards her fingers through his damp hair. His face is bandaged badly, and already there are bruises on his cheeks and his right eye is swollen and purple. His nose is still slightly crooked, his lip bandaged and she can clearly see bandages beneath his button up pajama shirt.

None of the workers ask questions as they helped the son of their master. There's nothing they can do, anyway.

Raven shifts back to her blue form and sighs as tears well up in her eyes. "You're not alone, Charles. You have me." She takes a deep, shuddering breath and closes her eyes. A single tear slips and she doesn't open them, too tired and fatigued. "You have me. I won't leave your side. You aren't alone." She repeats, hoping that Charles feels the truth behind her words. She smiles as she remembers that he's asleep and sighs.

As soon as her breathing evens out and her hand goes limp in her slumber, Charles opens his eyes.

"I know you're here for me, Raven." Charles thinks. His fist clenches into a shaky fist. "But I feel miles away inside."

He sees nothing but feels everything at the same time. His head feels like it's full of cotton and his body feels like lead is coursing through his veins. Finally opening his eyes, he surveys everything around him. The roof is a pristine white, the walls following suit. There's a table beside his shoulder with a tray holding a scalpel, a syringe and some kind of small tube connected to a sink by a rubber hose. He groans as he tries to sit up. Instead, he raises his hand and tries to focus his shifting vision on the limb.

He makes a fist and the metal clasp that binds the leather strap across his legs to the slab groans before snapping into a small cube.

Erik glares at his unbound feet.

He feels around his shoulders for a few seconds before feeling another metal clasp on the right side of his ribs. The instant his hand touches it, the clasp melts away and drips onto the counter.

It takes only a few minutes, but Erik is on his feet, standing shakily against the white wall. The metal scalpel, the syringe-all of it calls out to him and he smiles almost bitterly to himself.

That "Shaw" created a freak. A monster.

A monster that now had the ability to fight back.

Erik took one look at the only door in the room and grinned toothily, placing a hand on the wall while raising the other.

With a satisfying crash and clutter, Erik straightened his back.

He was alive.

He was angry.

He craved revenge.

And now?

Now he was free.