my soul so weary

Hank loves Charles. He respects his intellect, admires his mind. He still thinks that Charles can be the leader they need, the one to combat Erik and the others who think as he does. He is happy and proud to be the one at Charles' side, the one he leans on.

Right now, though, he doesn't like Charles very much.

He doesn't know if Charles is aware how often this still happens; mutants coming to the mansion, looking for help or protection or a home. The first few times Hank made a point of telling Charles, hoping that it would help bring him out of his depression. Each time he gets the same result.

Send them away.

He feeds them, gives them what medical help he can, and sends them away. He takes the protests, the shouts, the occasional physical attack as his due, never reacting except to protect himself. Everyone leaves, in the end; the number of new arrivals drops off, though it never quite stops.

This one is strange, though. She doesn't knock, doesn't make any attempt to come in; Hank might not have even known she was there if he hadn't had to fix a window. She's just sitting at the base of the long-dry fountain, watching the house.

Hank sits beside her, gives her the usual speech - no one here, we can't help you, I'm sorry - and though she's clearly listening, she doesn't react. Hank studies her for a moment - she's clearly been living rough for a while. She's about the age Sean was when he first came to the mansion, and Hank very deliberately does not follow that thought through to its conclusion.

He tries another couple of times, but she simply doesn't respond. Eventually he stands and reaches down to help her up. She follows along without protest, letting him usher her off the property.

The next morning, she's back.

"She's not leaving."

"She'll leave."

"She hasn't yet."

"She'll leave."

Charles walks away and Hank goes back to looking out the window. The girl is sitting patiently outside; she seems to be watching the mansion, but she doesn't react to anything they do. Every time Hank takes her off the property she leaves; sometimes he stays to watch her walk away. But she always comes back, sitting on the grounds, waiting patiently.

"I don't think she's going to leave."

"It's October, Hank. She'll leave."

When she's still sitting there amid snow and ice, Hank gives up and brings her inside. She sits patiently in one of the living rooms while Hank gets her something to eat; by the time he comes back to check on her she's asleep on the couch, and he folds a blanket over her and leaves her there overnight.

When he comes back the next morning, Charles is standing over her, staring at her.

"Hank," he says without turning around.

"I wasn't going to let her freeze to death, Professor. I'll take her to a shelter."

"See that you do." He turns to leave.

The girl shifts, waking, and Hank takes a quick step forward. Charles hesitates, looking back at them.

"We have to go," Hank murmurs to her. "Come on."

Charles turns away again. "Feed her first," he says over his shoulder. Hank blinks, staring after him, and then shrugs and leads her to the kitchen.

The shelter promises to keep an eye on her. Hank tells her it's important she stays. She nods along to both, but Hank isn't surprised when she's back at the mansion two days later. Charles leaves the room when Hank brings her in, but he doesn't raise any other objection.

Hank tries the shelter once more, but she doesn't stay. She still leaves, still goes whenever he sends her away, but she doesn't stay gone, and there seems little point in it. Hank tells her to be sure and stay out of Charles' way, and she does; she starts helping him around the house, tidying and cleaning, repairing. Hank becomes used to having her around.

She sleeps on the couch for a while longer, until Hank clears out a room as far from Charles' as possible and installs her there. Charles knows about it, but all he does is avoid the corridor and ignore her presence. Hank grows used to her; he falls into the habit of talking to her, explaining what he's working on or what he's thinking of or telling her what happened to the school, to Charles. He can't tell how much she's taking in, but she always seems to be paying attention, at least.

He hadn't realised how much he'd missed simply talking to other people.

Charles happens past one night while he's trying to teach her chess, using a board he dug out of an unused bedroom rather than the one sitting in Charles' office. Hank's been explaining the ways the pieces move for twenty minutes, and the girl keeps nodding and then making exactly the wrong move, treating her knights as rooks and her bishops as pawns. Hank's laughing as he resets the board again, and it's enough to distract him from Charles' approach until he's right there, watching them.

Hank's laughter fades away; the girl watches curiously, turning a knight over and over in her hands. "I can't tell if she really isn't following or if she just thinks it's more fun this way," he says finally.

Charles leans over to move a piece. The girl promptly responds, moving her pieces properly, putting the knight back into place and concentrating on the board. She's no match for Charles, of course, but she clearly knows what she's doing, at least as far as moving the pieces goes.

"Seems fine to me," Charles says when he takes her king a few minutes later. "You're obviously a good teacher, Hank." Hank can't read his tone, has no idea what it means. "I need more serum."

"Already?" Hank says, distracted. "You can't have used…"

"Hank," Charles says warningly.

Hank takes a breath before nodding. "Yes. I'll go and get some."

He goes as quickly as he can; they're halfway through another game when he comes back, though Charles abandons it, taking the serum and going upstairs. Hank watches him for a moment before looking back at the game. "Well, let's see if you're as good against me. And remember, I know you know the moves now."

Waves of pain and terror drag Hank from sleep a few nights later. He stumbles out of bed, staggering towards the door; he's familiar enough with the feel of telepathy to know what he's feeling now.

It gets stronger the closer he gets to her room, and he has to stop entirely when he's still a corridor away; he simply can't get any closer. His skin feels like it's burning. He heads upstairs instead, to check on Charles.

The serum has messed up Charles' sleep schedule, and the depression isn't helping either, so he isn't surprised to find Charles awake. He is surprised, though, to find that he doesn't seem to be affected at all.

"The serum must be blocking incoming telepathy as well as outgoing," he realises after a hasty explanation. They're far enough away here that the sensations are muted, but not gone completely. "You're completely psi-blind. I hadn't thought of that."

"So?" Charles says impatiently. "She's dreaming. She'll wake."

Hank shakes his head. "She's not dreaming, Professor, she's awake." He doesn't know why he's so sure, but he is. "She's hurting. And I can't, I can't go in there."

He's genuinely not sure Charles will do it, but eventually he does; he takes another dose of serum to be sure he won't be affected first, but he does go downstairs and into the room. Hank has to wait outside, he can't go in, but gradually the bone deep terror starts to fade away and he's able to get closer in stages. He spends a long time just outside the door, unable to get closer, unable to hear anything apart from the sound of Charles' voice. It's what Hank always thought of as his 'teaching' voice, and he hopes desperately that that's a good sign.

Eventually he's able to go in. Charles and the girl are both sitting on the floor, her in a corner, Charles cross legged facing her; he's leading her through what Hank recognises as guided meditation, one of the ways Charles used to keep his own telepathy under control. Hank sinks to sit behind Charles, who never pauses in his speech.

Eventually Charles trails off. The girl shivers, but she opens her eyes, watching them.

"All right?" Charles says softly. "Can you remember that in future? I know it's hard. It gets easier."

She tilts her head to study him; he reaches out without looking and Hank hurries to help him up. "You should think of a name," he tells her, turning and leaving the room.

Hank lingers in the doorway, watching her. "Are you all right?" She nods and he smiles quickly. "Go back to bed, ok?"

Charles is sitting on the base of the steps, head in hands. Hank hovers uncertainly until he looks up, smiling weakly.

"Are you all right?" Hank asks gently, sinking to sit beside him.

"Yes."

"You helped her."

Charles shrugs. "Nothing any human couldn't have done," and he's so bitter, it physically hurts Hank to hear it.

"Not a human, Professor. A telepath. No one else would know those techniques."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Hank asks quietly, "Was that the first time she'd used her powers?"

"I don't know. I -" He scrubs a hand over his face, through his hair. "I believe so. The first time it's been this strong, anyway."

"And what is it?"

"Some kind of emotion projection. I don't know, Hank. It's not as though I can find out."

He stands, glancing away, using the movement to keep himself from saying what he wants to. "I'm going to eat something, I think. Do you want anything?"

"No."

"All right." He heads towards the kitchen, leaving Charles to sit there.

Hank starts calling her Jane, for no particular reason. If she objects she doesn't show it, and by now she's quite able to. Hank has had whole conversations with her by reading the tilt of her head and the expression on her face. Charles doesn't seem to have the same skill, but he now spends his evenings playing chess more often than not - always on the spare board, never on the one still sitting abandoned in his office. Jane has started perusing the living room bookshelves - she reads at at least a high school level, Hank notes - and Charles occasionally gives her advice on books to try or avoid.

Now that her power has manifested, though, it continues to every so often. Not on any kind of regular schedule, never as strong as the first time, and not triggered by anything Hank can track. But every now and then he has to climb out of his bed and wake Charles to go calm her. Charles never refuses to go, though he's usually angry about it, and he always takes extra serum before going in.

Hank's tried talking to Jane about it, but he gets blank looks and shrugs, and if Charles is trying he isn't doing any better. But they're at something like equilibrium, Charles doing better than he has done in a while, and eventually Hank decides it's worth the risk and makes a call he's been putting off.

A few days later Alex arrives back at the mansion.

Hank is the first one to see him, but Charles is only a beat behind, and there is genuine joy on his face for a moment before it's shuttered. Alex hasn't seen him walking, but Hank's been keeping him up to date, and he hides whatever surprise he might be feeling behind a grin and a hug.

Charles excuses himself very quickly, leaving Hank with Alex.

"What's happened?" Alex asks softly.

"Believe or not, this is better than he has been." Hank swings Alex's duffle onto his shoulder. "Come on, we got your old room ready for you."

"We," Alex repeats. "He knew I was coming back?"

"What? No. Jane."

"Jane."

Hank sighs. "Jane is a mutant girl who decided she wanted to live here, and the fact that we kept putting her out didn't stop her. The Professor - tolerates her. More or less. Mostly less."

"Things've changed, huh," Alex mutters, opening the door for Hank and very firmly closing it before he can leave. "Tell me everything. Everything, Hank."

Hank nods, and does.

Alex fits back in around them as though he'd never been away. He takes over on some of the repairs - Hank is glad to give them up - and coaxes both Hank and Jane out to do some basic keep-fit exercises every day. Jane seems just as comfortable around him as she is around Charles; that is, not quite as comfortable as she is around Hank, but certainly not afraid or wary. Charles is no more or less inclined to be sociable than he was before Alex's return, but Hank does occasionally catch him watching the young man as he works around the house, and he looks as close as he comes to happy these days.

Hank has warned Alex about Jane's occasional power problems, but it still catches them by surprise when it happens. The two of them are sitting in the living room, talking quietly; Jane's long gone to bed, and Charles never showed up today.

The wave hits them at the same time and Alex goes down, screaming. Even through the fear pounding at him, Hank is confused. It's never hit him like that, not once.

The screaming alerts Charles and he comes at a run; he starts to go to Alex, but Hank waves him off. There's no point in helping Alex, this isn't going to stop until Jane does. Charles goes and Hank concentrates on not gibbering in fear.

Soon he feels it lessening, enough that he can relax and look for Alex. Alex is curled into a ball, sobbing quietly. Hank drags himself closer, sits just within arms' reach, and talks quietly without trying to touch him, saying everything and anything that comes to his mind. Alex's sobs trail off and he shudders where he's lying.

"All right, bozo," he says finally, and it's still shaky, but at least he's not crying any more.

"Want to sit up?" Hank suggests.

"No," Alex says, but he sits up anyway, scrubbing at his cheeks. Hank doesn't watch, exactly, but he doesn't quite look away, either.

Charles reappears, lurking in the doorway. "Alex?"

"Fine," Alex says without looking up.

"Hank?"

Hank turns to look at him. "We're fine, Professor. Thank you."

The go away is implied, but Charles picks up on it anyway, nodding slowly. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Night, Professor."

Alex murmurs a good night; he shoves to his feet as soon as Charles is gone, pacing frantically in a space of approximately four feet. "Is it always like that?"

"I don't think it affects you the same way it does me," Hank says carefully. "It makes me afraid, but not of anything specific. Just afraid." Nameless, shapeless fear, impossible to face because there's nothing there.

Alex nods sharply. "I was - there."

"There," Hank repeats, when it seems like Alex is stuck.

"Vietnam." Alex pronounces it very carefully. "In the jungle, and I couldn't find my team, and there were people - not people, not even people, just things, in the trees, coming for me, I couldn't find anyone -"

He cuts himself off very sharply, pressing his forehead against the wall, heaving in breaths that are closer to sobs. Hank waits, watching, completely out of his depth. He's exempt from the war because of his eyesight and because Charles Xavier, registered paraplegic, needs a caretaker. This is completely out of his experience.

Alex turns, finally, dry eyed. "Sorry."

"No, it's…" Hank gestures helplessly. "Are you…"

"I know where I am." He glances towards the rooms.

"She doesn't mean to," Hank offers softly.

"Somehow that really doesn't help. Look, I'm not going to sleep. You should go."

Alex knows too much about having a power you can't quite control to really blame her, Hank knows, but that only makes it harder, sometimes, having nowhere to direct anger and pain. "I'm not really tired either," he lies blatantly. "A game?"

"I'm not playing chess with you, you always win."

"Is that my fault?" he says mildly.

"You could not rub it in so much."

"How about I close my eyes and point, and you can just move a piece where I'm pointing?"

"That might do it."

Hank isn't fooled. Alex's eyes are too bright and his movements are jerky and uncoordinated. But he can pretend his friend isn't hurting. He's become good at that.

Alex is brittle and wounded for the next few days. Hank catches Jane watching him when he's not looking, but he can't tell if she's connected Alex's new attitude with her power problems. He's never sure how much she even remembers afterwards, if she knows how much she can hurt them.

Charles doesn't ask either, doesn't seem to realise how badly Alex has been affected. Things continue much as they have been, except that as well as tiptoeing around Charles, Hank is now tiptoeing around Alex as well, not wanting to set off another flashback. Even interacting with Jane is becoming harder; she doesn't mean to and he knows it, but she's hurt his friend, could hurt him again at any moment.

It builds and builds until he finds himself snapping at Alex and Jane one afternoon. As soon as he realises it he walks away from them, heads down to the old bunker under the house and slides into a crouch against the wall, head down. He's already blue, larger, fur sprouting, and he feels the rage fill him, driving him into a fury. There's no furniture here except a half melted mannequin left over from Alex's training, but Hank attacks the walls, shouting, punching, throwing himself at them in a frenzy.

When he finally calms, looking towards the door, Jane is standing there, clinging to the doorframe.

"Jane…" He takes a step towards her and she flinches. Hank freezes, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself as quickly as possible.

When he looks up again, fur and blue disappearing, Alex has appeared and Jane is on his other side, just slightly further away from Hank. He takes a deep breath, and a step towards them, and counts it as a success when she doesn't flinch away.

"It's me," he tells her, arms spread wide. "See? Just me."

"You ok?" Alex asks.

"Yes," Hank says without looking away. "Jane?"

She blinks as though startled, stepping away from Alex and towards Hank, and he smiles in relief, holding out a hand and letting her take it.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, to her or to both, he's not sure. It's Alex who nods, stepping aside to let them out of the bunker.

Hank wakes to fear so real and heavy it takes his breath away. He has trouble getting out of his room; everything in him is screaming for him to find a corner, somewhere to hide. But Alex is terrifyingly silent, and that's wrong; that's not how he reacts. Even through this fear, Hank knows that.

Charles is sitting on the stairs, rubbing at his hip. "Hank," he says, not registering Hank's terror at first, "I need - what? What's wrong?"

"Jane." Hank forces the word out, stumbling against Alex's door and fumbling with the knob. "It's wrong, it's bad…"

Charles is behind him when he opens the door, scanning the room. Alex is wedged into a corner, trembling, eyes rolled back so far all they can see is whites; his breathing is ragged and he doesn't react to their words or touches.

"I'll go calm Jane down," Charles says, turning away.

"Calming her down is not…" Hank has to close his eyes against the impulse to hide, to get away. "Yes," he manages finally, when the buzzing sounds turn back into Charles' words. "Get her - yes."

It takes a long time, or his perceptions are slipping, he's not sure which. The fear lifts slowly, more slowly than normal, but eventually he's able to slide across and touch Alex's arm lightly. He doesn't react, eyes still rolled back, breathing so shallow Hank has to concentrate to sense it.

By the time Charles comes back - Jane's with him, oddly, she doesn't usually come out of her room after an attack - Hank has moved Alex to his bed and is watching him carefully. "We can't keep doing this," he says without looking up.

"Send her away," Charles suggests.

"Sending her away doesn't solve anything. The problem's not with her." He catches Jane's eye as he adds, "This isn't her fault."

"Then I don't know what you think we can do."

Hank buries his face in his hands for a moment. "You could help her. You could help both of them."

"Hank," Charles says, voice hard and cold.

"Alex is hurting. Your student, a boy you picked and brought here and made promises to, is hurting. You could help him."

"No."

"You wanted to help other mutants. Help them control their powers, help them live without being afraid."

"No," Charles says again, and he's so close to pleading now it hurts. "You don't know…"

"I do know. I was here, remember? I'm the one who stayed with you. I'm the one who created the serum, because I saw what your powers were doing to you."

"If you know, then…"

"Because we've gone past that now, Charles." Hank says it softly, but the use of his name gets Charles' attention like nothing else. "When it was you and me, it didn't matter. But they need you."

"I can't do it," Charles whispers, tears standing in his eyes. "All those voices, Hank, calling, screaming, all those people I couldn't help. It's too much. Please don't ask me to do this."

"Then don't think about all the ones you can't help." Hank glances down at Alex, still white-eyed and breathing shallowly. "There are two people right here who you can help. Only you; only Professor X."

Charles breathes out, shaky and pained. "Hank," he whispers, a plea for help.

Hank smiles, just as shaky. "You can, you know. It'll hurt, but you're stronger than that. You're the strongest person I've ever known. Ever."

Charles nods slowly. "I need - it needs to wear off."

"All right," Hank agrees. He's familiar with Charles' symptoms by now; he knows it won't be long before the serum wears off.

"Can you…" Charles swallows. "Take Jane down into the bunker, please. It'll be a little easier."

"Are you sure you don't want me here?"

"No shields. Until I can get them back up...please."

Hank nods, holding out a hand to Jane. "You can do this, Professor," he says softly.

"As if I would dare to let you down, my friend." There's a laugh, shaky and scared but a laugh all the same.

Hank suddenly gestures Jane to wait and heads to Charles' office. He has to search for a moment before he finds what he's looking for, bringing it back to Alex's room.

Charles' lip curls in disgust when Hank pushes the wheelchair into the room, but he nods. "Yes, of course. Good thinking, Hank. Well done." His voice fades out as he turns back to Alex.

"We'll be downstairs," Hank says quietly, ushering Jane away.

It takes a long time. Jane curls up against a wall and watches through half closed eyes as Hank paces back and forth across the bunker, keeping himself from opening the door and bounding upstairs through sheer force of will. Not for the first time, he wishes there was some form of communication between the bunker and the house proper.

Charles comes to release them sometime near dawn; he looks tired and drawn and exhausted, and his knuckles are white where he grips the wheels of his chair, but he looks more like Professor X than he has in nearly ten years. Hank stops in front of him; Charles raises his eyes, and Hank feels the once-familiar brush across his mind, what he's always thought of as a telepath's hello.

"Hello, Professor," he whispers. Charles smiles, eyes bright and brilliant.

Jane's hand slides into Hank's; he glances down automatically, and Charles follows his gaze. "Hello," he murmurs. After a moment he smiles. "Jane."

"What?" Hank says in surprise.

"That is how she thinks of herself. As your Jane." He smiles at her again. "We will get to know each other very well, Jane. For now, though, you're hungry, I'm hungry, Alex is hungry, and I'm sure Hank is hungry."

"Alex," Hank repeats quickly.

Charles' smile becomes more forced. "He's awake."

Hank hears what Charles is not saying and nods. "Let's not keep him waiting, then. Come on, Jane."

It's not a miracle cure, of course. Charles is not suddenly better, Alex is not healed, Jane's control does not snap back into place. Things do not go back to the way they were, once.

Hank keeps the serum under lock and key. The first step in keeping it away from Charles is his natural reluctance to ask for it. That doesn't always help; there are times when Charles comes to him in tears, days when the pain in his back or the noise in his mind is too strong. Hank develops ways to help him, grounding him, soothing him, calming him. On the worst days he leads Charles through endless 'five more minutes, you can have it in five minutes, just wait that long, five minutes more' until his control returns. Alex gets used to taking Jane off the property or down to the bunker to give them space.

With Charles working properly with her, Jane's control gets stronger and better. There are still lapses, but they grow fewer and further apart and the effects, on Hank at least, are shorter and less powerful. After a lot of work, she starts incorporating brief blasts of emotion as answers when anyone talks to her. It's a clumsy way to communicate, but she seems happy with it, and it's easier, now, to tell when it's her power and when it's true emotions.

Alex has his good days and his bad days. Hank rebuilds the practise range in the bunker and Alex spends some time down there; he talks to Charles and does a lot of rebuilding and working on the exterior of the house. He goes for runs on his own. The physical work seems to help him, and when Jane's control starts to improve she makes a point of pulling away from him first when she flares.

Some months after what Hank still thinks of as That Night - Charles has not asked for serum in almost two weeks, Jane has not lost control in as long, Alex still has nightmares but seems well apart from that - Alex receives a call and leaves the mansion for most of a day. When he returns, there's another young man with him, a dark skinned, dark eyed soldier. Alex introduces him as Spyke and then takes him to meet the Professor.

Hank is half-heartedly digging out a flower bed - not his favourite task by a long shot - when Alex reappears, throwing himself to the ground beside the bed. "Everything all right?" Hank asks, turning over the same patch of earth for the third time.

"Yeah." Alex sits up, draws up his legs and rests his arms on them. "Spyke was in my unit. There were a few of us."

"A few…" Hank nods, attacking a persistent weed. "Mutants."

"Yeah." Alex's voice is distant. "We sort of ended up together. And then someone figured it out; I don't know how, we weren't visibly mutant, but they figured it out. We got transfer notices. To Trask Industries."

Hank continues to dig at the ground, though the weed is long gone. He knows the name, of course; Bolivar Trask was the mutant boogeyman for a time, until he was killed.

"And then Raven saved us."

Hank almost stabs himself in the leg. "Raven?"

Alex reaches over to take the trowel from him, grinning faintly. "Yes. Raven. She came in as our CO, took apart the Trask team before they could take us, and got us on a plane out of there. Our discharge papers were already in the system, so…" He shrugs.

Hank sits back on his heels. "You didn't mention that before."

"No, I didn't," Alex agrees. "I couldn't get her to come with me. I don't know what she was doing there. I don't know where she is now. I didn't want - it seemed cruel, to tell the Professor that much when I couldn't tell him anything else."

"And Spyke?"

Alex shrugs, toying with the trowel. "He needs help."

"The professor said yes?"

"They were discussing it when I left." Alex catches his eye. "You know him best, nowadays. What do you think?"

Hank shrugs. "Tell me ten years ago Charles Xavier would turn anyone away; tell me a year ago he'd let anyone back in...I don't know. He knows you, he knows me, and Jane's not like having a stranger around."

"He can't turn away someone who needs help."

Hank looks away, and very carefully does not think of the countless mutants he turned away on Charles' orders. "I hope not."

Spyke stays. Hank and Alex clear a room for him and Charles and Hank begin working out a proper schedule. Working as and when they wanted didn't matter so much for the couple of them, but now that there's more, they need plans, they need to know what each of them is doing.

Spyke and Alex are both out of high school, and if Jane isn't she's close to it, so they don't worry much about formal education. Alex occasionally talks about correspondence courses, though every time he mentions it he has a different idea about what he'd like to study. Spyke works with the professor and that's about it; he's not unfriendly, exactly, but he is withdrawn and just as troubled as Alex. Hank doesn't think he'll stay any longer than he has to.

A few weeks later another new mutant turns up, one none of them have ever seen before. Charles meets with her, talks to her for a time; she ends up leaving again, but it's a great step forward. Hank takes the opportunity to talk to Charles about the renovations they were only halfway through when the school collapsed last time. Amazing as the house is, it's not built to be a school.

Charles studies him for a long time. "I don't know if I'm ready," he says finally.

"Ready," Hank echoes.

"To be the one people are relying on. I don't know if I'm strong enough for that."

Hank tilts his head towards the window - the others are playing an enthusiastic game of touch football, and they're clearly audible from here - and Charles shakes his head. "That's different."

"Is it?"

"Hank," Charles says wearily.

Hank shrugs innocently. "Mutants will continue to come, Professor. You know that. Either you turn them away, or you help them. And if you're going to help them, we need to make some plans."

Someone scores outside; Alex is laughing, unselfconscious and joyful.

"You are a better man than I," Charles says, almost to himself.

"No," Hank disagrees. "I'm not." And he thinks of the decision he's been afraid to make.

Charles looks at him suddenly. "Hank."

"Yes."

"You can't really be thinking…"

"I am." Hank shrugs. "You took the serum because you were hurting. I took the serum because I was ashamed. You have faced your demons and stopped taking it. I can face mine."

Charles laughs, patting Hank's arm gently. "Well, if you can do that, I can face a few students. Show me your plans."

Some years later, Hank is watching some of their students play outside when Charles appears, wheeling along to sit next to him. They watch in silence for a few minutes as the children play some strange combination of basketball and baseball. He's not sure what the rules are, or if there actually are any rules.

Charles shifts finally. "Have you heard from Jane?"

"Briefly. She's enjoying her new work, she sends her best. The usual." Jane's letters keep getting shorter as she settles into her new life. Hank is pleased for her, as long as she's enjoying herself. Jane is one of the school's success stories, enjoying complete control over her powers now and able to integrate them seamlessly into her life. She works as a counsellor for deaf children and teens, working with them to help them learn sign language and lip reading and speech and how to deal with their circumstances, how to live with themselves.

"I've tracked down that mutant signature in Cairo. Can you leave your classes for a day or two?"

"Of course," Hank agrees. "If you're sure you want me and not Alex." It was a big step when Charles went from passively taking mutants who came to the school to actively seeking them out, and Hanks helps whenever he can. Without the serum, though, it's harder for him to operate in public.

It has not been a straight line, of course. An attack from another telepath put Charles back on the serum for almost a month before he could summon up the strength to get himself off it; Spyke stormed out of the school in anger and has never returned; Alex is not who he was before, though he seems to genuinely enjoy working with them and with the children. They've had mutants they've been unable to help, mutants who refused to learn, mutants who threatened other students. They've had humans protest outside the school and try to attack their students and teachers off campus.

And they've had mutants who absorbed everything they could learn and looked for more, mutants who came from bad backgrounds and broken homes and blossomed here, mutants who might change the world for the better some day. They've had humans go out of their way to help them, to stand up for them, to offer their help in any way they can. On the bad days, when Hank can't see how this can possibly end well, he watches the children play, using their abilities without fear, and it all seems worth it.

"How did you manage, my friend?"

"Manage?" Hank echoes, thinking confusedly about being in public.

"Me. How did you manage me, those ten years?"

He shrugs. They haven't really discussed those ten years; it seems like another lifetime when he looks back on it. "It wasn't hard, professor."

"I can't believe you never slapped me. I want to slap me when I think about it."

Hank laughs softly. "I was tempted, sometimes."

"But you never did."

"No. I never did."

"Why not?"

Hank shrugs. "You were hurting."

"So were you. You must have been. Your friends were gone."

"I had something to occupy myself with."

"Yes," Charles murmurs. "Well, thank you, my friend."

"It wasn't hard," Hank repeats. "All I had to do was wait."

"Wait? For what?"

"For you to remember who you are. I knew it would happen. You're too good a man to hide forever. I was happy to wait."

Charles stares across the field, clearing his throat. "Mmm."

Hank takes pity on him - Charles was never one to accept praise - and claps him lightly on the shoulder. "I'll get the Blackbird ready, tell Alex what's going on. I'll see you at the hangar."

He turns away, leaving Charles to watch his children play in the sunlight.

When I am down, and oh! My soul so weary,

When trouble comes, and my my heart burdened be...

Then I am still, and wait here in the silence,

Until you come, and sit a while with me.

Prompt: in dofp, young!charles is guided by old!charles. but how did old!charles find his way back to hope? what forced him to live with the pain that telepathy brings? how did he learn to stop being overwhelmed?

if pairings: prefer erik/charles