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Chapter 1: A Means of Control

The mutant experimentation lab was unnervingly empty. Magneto and his Brotherhood had dispatched the guards with little trouble—these things might actually be difficult if the humans ever invented guns that weren't made of metal—but by the time they had reached the lab proper, it seemed the researchers had escaped, leaving three dead mutants in various states of dissection on metal tables. The strong smell of hospital-type disinfectant did little to mask the stench of blood and death in the air. One of the bodies was of a child who couldn't have been older than five, and when Angel saw what was left of him she covered her mouth with both hands as though to hold in her screams. Magneto understood; he was fighting down the urge to vomit himself.

"Oh God, Erik," Mystique said, putting an arm around Angel whose agonized, keening cries were muffled against her friend's blue, scaly shoulder. There was such horror in Mystique's wide, golden eyes. "We were too late."

Magneto put what he hoped was a comforting hand on Mystique's shoulder, clenching his jaw. As their leader, perhaps they expected him to say something inspiring, something that would make all of this seem less bleak, less pointless, less like a complete and total failure on their part to protect even the most innocent and helpless of their kind. Maybe Magneto wasn't a very good leader, because he couldn't think of a damn thing.

"Are they all dead?" Beast's voice, low and choked, drew Magneto's attention to where his furry blue associate stood in the doorway.

"Dead," Darwin said from behind Beast, "and the monsters responsible for it escaped!" Turning, he viciously kicked one of the metal tables, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Looking up at Beast as she gently stroked Angel's dark hair, Mystique sounded very young as she asked, "Why would they kill them?"

Beast shook his head, looking down as he shuffled his large, hairy feet. It had only been half a year ago that they'd found Beast in a similar facility, dehydrated, half-starved, wounded, and restrained—but alive—and his admission that he had been a researcher himself, concealing his own mutation while trying to find a way to "cure" himself—before accidentally triggering his current appearance—did make him the most likely member of their group to understand how a mutant researcher's mind might work. Of course Beast—back when he was just Hank McCoy—had never killed anyone, had only ever experimented on himself, in fact.

Magneto just wanted to get out, to get away. The lab reminded him far too much of Doktor Schmidt's experiments when he himself was a child, when he was just Erik, just a boy who wasn't good enough to save his own mother. Today, he still wasn't good enough, hadn't been good enough to save anyone.

Pushing past Beast in a way he hoped wasn't too rude, Magneto forced himself to make one final circuit of the place, one final check that they hadn't missed anyone or anything important before giving the order to head back to their base. Azazel stood in the middle of the main room, red devil-tail twitching from one side to the other, ready to teleport everyone home at his leader's order.

There was something...beyond a set of double doors Magneto hadn't noticed before, down a dim hallway...a metal doorknob was moving, jiggling slightly, as though it were locked and someone were trying to open it from the other side. Quite near the doorknob, there was another bit of moving metal that drew his attention. Considering its location relative to the doorknob, it would have to be on whomever was moving the doorknob—some form of jewelry, a necklace or earring, but it seemed somehow too...complex. And the alloy was one he didn't recognize.

What was clear was that there was someone here, someone still alive. One of the researchers, perhaps, but... Erik found himself outside the door, heart beating with a terrible hope. A stab of irrational fear lanced through him and he took a steadying breath before using his power to unlock the door and swing it open.

What Erik noticed first were the eyes, blue and brilliant, staring at him. The owner of said eyes looked entirely human, but he wasn't dressed like a researcher and instead was wearing the same sort of thin drawstring pants and pale beige v-neck shirt outfit that they'd found on the dead mutants. Unlike them, he was very much alive, if somewhat shaky, as he pushed his floppy brown hair out of his pale boyish face with one hand.

"Oh hello," the boy was saying, flashing a grateful smile. "The door must have jammed somehow. I was a little worried, since no one was answering my calls." He gestured to a call button much like those used in actual hospitals which lay on what appeared to be a regular hospital bed against the back wall of the small room. "I'm Charles, Charles Xavier." He held out a hand, so Erik shook it.

"Erik," Magneto replied. "Erik Lehnsherr, though most people know me as Magneto."

Charles smiled pleasantly. "Do you mind if I call you Erik?"

"Not at all." Magneto was just realizing with confused horror that the strange piece of complex, unfamiliar metal he'd been sensing was actually inside Charles' head. Having to be one hundred percent sure, Erik took Charles by the shoulders and turned him so he could inspect the back of his neck, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw the recently closed incisions there.

"It seems to be healing well," Charles said calmly, as though he didn't mind in the least being manhandled and inspected—and considering the circumstances, this was likely nothing compared to what he had suffered in recent days. "Doesn't itch or hurt much anymore."

Spinning Charles around to face him once again, Magneto stared intently into those incongruously cheerful blue eyes. "What did they do to you?"

Charles expression turned more serious, even apologetic. He took a breath. "It was for my mutation. A means of—of control. I—" He looked around, seeming lost. "One of the doctors could explain it to you much better than I could, but I haven't seen anyone all day. Do you happen to know why?"

"They ran away." Erik's voice was hard. He was struggling against the renewed urge to vomit. He had encountered mutation-suppressing collars and drugs before, but if this thing in Charles' head was what he said it was, it wasn't anything he'd seen before. It was far worse. Collars could be removed and drugs wore off, but this was far more permanent. Ignoring Charles' confused reaction to the news of the doctors' escape, Erik tried to sound less angry as he asked, "Your mutation?"

"Yes—telepathy." Charles gave him a small, polite smile, "It was really quite inconvenient, you see. But my step-father found a solution, this procedure. It really was the best option. He..." Charles blinked a couple of times looking momentarily confused, "h-helped me."

Erik noticed that Charles was trembling more now and that his skin looked even paler than before. Erik didn't know much about medical things, but he knew someone who did. Turning towards the door, Erik shouted, "Beast! Get in here now! We need a doctor!"

Charles looked up at him, confusion in his eyes as he wavered on his feet, and Erik caught him by the elbow to keep him up. "Sorry," Charles said, his words a little slurred, leaning against Erik's chest. "I don't feel well."

I don't expect you would, Erik thought grimly, tightening his hold on the other mutant.

Oh. The unfamiliar voice in Erik's head sounded pleasantly surprised. Most people don't know how to do that.

What? Was Erik's mind playing tricks on him?

It's me...Charles.

"But you said..." Erik began, confused. "The suppression device..."

It's for control, Charles' voice continued in his head. I can still send and receive messages, but I don't have to shield against random thoughts anymore, and it prevents me from altering anyone's memories or...any of the rest. It really is—Charles' thoughts felt as though they were wrapped in warm, fuzzy sleep as he let out a soft sigh against Erik's chest—the best option...for everyone.

"Sir?" Beast skidded into view through the open door, having apparently run. The hallway, Erik remembered, was quite long. Even if he didn't quite remember actually walking down it.

"He's a mutant," Erik explained, "a telepath. They did something to him, put some sort of suppression device in his brain." He gestured towards the incisions on the back of Charles' neck. "I think he may be going into shock."

Beast nodded, taking Charles from Erik and guiding him to sit on the bed. "We need to keep him warm."

The bed, for whatever implausible reason, didn't have any blankets, just a fitted sheet. Erik unhooked his cape from his shoulders and gently wrapped it around Charles' shoulders.

Charles smiled blearily at him and touched his hand. Thank you.

"He can still send and receive telepathic messages," Erik said, realizing this was probably something Beast should know.

"Yeah," Beast said, pushing his spectacles up his wide, blue nose. "I'm getting that. He was just telling me he thinks I'm the most lovely shade of blue."

Erik shook his head, unable to suppress a small wry smile. At least the boy wasn't alarmed by Beast's appearance like so many were.

As if summoned by thoughts of alarming appearances, Azazel popped into the room at that moment with a puff of sulphuric smoke, saying, "Boss, the police."

It was always like this; the police ignored the labs, regardless of what the researchers were doing—even if they were killing their subjects—but as soon as the Brotherhood showed up to help the imprisoned mutants, the police decided that was worthy of their time and energy. Nodding, Magneto turned to Beast. "Are we good to go?"

"Yes," the doctor replied with a nod. "I can better treat him in my own lab, anyway."

Magneto turned to Azazel. "Take the three of us first and come back for the rest."

"As you say, Boss." Azazel did as instructed, conveniently dropping them all off right in McCoy's lab before popping back out again.

From one lab into another one—Erik felt his skin itch, as though it were too small for his body. The familiarity of this lab, even the fact that he'd shaped most of it with his own power, did little to lessen the feeling that it was still a lab and therefore not safe.

Beast was gently arranging his compliant patient on a hospital bed—this one, Erik was savagely proud to note, actually had blankets. Looking up at Erik, he asked, "Do you want your cape back?"

Charles had his face turned so that his cheek pressed against the dark red fabric of the cape, and both hands twisted into the folds of it, seemingly quite attached to it at the moment. Erik shook his head. "Let him keep it for now." Perhaps it would help Charles feel safe.

"I'll need to run a few tests," Beast said, sounding apologetic. "To see what all was done to him."

"Of course." Erik's voice sounded terse in his own ears. "As soon as possible, I want him moved to one of the bedrooms." It was standard Brotherhood procedure, and Magneto knew he didn't need to remind his doctor. For all that he'd worked in mutations research, McCoy had never been cruel and was actually one of the most gentle people Erik had met.

The movement of the metal on his team's outfits hovering outside the doors told Magneto that everyone was now here and accounted for. He needed to go fill everyone in, to be the leader they needed now.

As he stepped out of the lab, closing the door behind him, he was greeted by the expectant faces of his team. Well, to be fair, Azazel looked less expectant than the rest, but he already knew some of what Magneto was about to tell them. Mystique and Angel stood closer than the guys, their body language radiating eager anticipation.

Standing straight and clasping his hands behind his back, Magneto addressed his followers, "As Azazel no doubt has already told you, we did find someone alive in that laboratory today." Mystique smiled broadly, her eyes full of hope, as Angel clutched her hand. Darwin looked relieved, his whole stance relaxing. Azazel gave no reaction at all, but he had already seen Charles. "A young mutant named Charles Xavier whom our doctor is caring for right now."

Magneto paced a short distance to the right, then turned on his heel—had he been wearing his cape, the swirl of it with his motion would have been quite dramatic. "He appears to be in shock, which is understandable given what he has experienced at the hands of those monsters." He paused, looking down and taking a breath before pointedly looking into each face as he continued to speak. "They performed surgery on him, implanting a mutation-suppression device inside his head. We are all familiar with suppression collars, but this device will be far more difficult to deactivate or remove." The shocked disgust on all their faces, even Azazel's, was affirming. The Brotherhood was a good group of mutants. "Now, it will take Doctor McCoy some time to determine what all was done to Mister Xavier and what all he can do to help him. In the meantime, I expect you all to do what you can to assist our doctor should he need it and also to make our guest feel as welcome as possible. The suppression device seems to be designed to block his mutation only partially—he's a telepath and still able to send and receive thought messages, but being so crippled must be quite disorienting for him, much like if Mystique could suddenly only change her hair colour or if Azazel could only teleport very short distances."

Everyone was nodding. While he had their rapt attention, Magneto concluded, "We saw shocking evidence of humanity's brutality today. And now we know that they have devised a new threat to our kind, something worse than suppression collars or suppression drugs. We must remain ever vigilant in our fight, mutants together, protecting each other: one Brotherhood standing up against these cowardly 'researchers' who murder and mutilate children in the name of science, against the police and the government that support this brutality, against all who seek to oppress us. Together we are strong; together, we will be victorious."

Angel clasped her hands in front of herself, eyes shining. "Yes," she whispered. Then, louder and with a harder edge in her voice she said, "We will make them pay."

Mystique stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek, saying, "Thank you."

Darwin clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning and echoing Magneto's words, "Together."

Azazel twisted his lips into a crooked smile saying, "Great speech, Boss."

Magneto endured all of their affection and praise with patience. This is what the Brotherhood needed from him, this is what his people needed from him. And today, despite the carnage they'd all witnessed, they'd rescued a mutant—just one, but every one counted. They'd done well.

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A/N: First off, I need to make it quite clear that this story will never be abandoned or even be placed on hiatus—I can offer that assurance with 100% confidence. Now, how often would you like to see this updated? Please let me know and I will do my best to comply with the majority. :)

Notes on characters and canon:

Kurt Marko, father of Cain Marko ("The Juggernaut"), was Charles Xavier's step-father in the mainstream comics (Earth-616). To date, he has not appeared or been mentioned in the movies. (Though Cain Marko appeared in 'X-Men: The Last Stand'.)

'Angel' here is of course Angel Salvador, as seen in 'X-Men: First Class'.

'Doktor Schmidt' is Sebastian Shaw, also as seen in 'X-Men: First Class' where he used the alias 'Klaus Schmidt'.

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