The Puppeteer - X-Men [REWRITTEN]

Twenty Five

Lily froze.

Every inch of her locked in place-muscles, breath, thoughts-paralyzed by the sight of him.

Erik Lehnsherr.

He stood like a ghost she hadn't buried properly. Tall, sharp, unnervingly composed in the sterile white uniform. Hands at his side. Eyes sweeping across the room until they found her.

The man who had taken her brother from her. The man who had helped rip the world apart. The man she had once followed into fire, only to watch him become the monster he swore to destroy.

She couldn't move.

"Charles?" Erik spoke first, a cautious hope in his voice. Then his gaze shifted. "Lily."

His voice softened, as if saying her name might undo what time and betrayal had done. But what he saw in her eyes wasn't the wide-eyed girl who had once stood on the beach beside him. He found a fury colder than vengeance. The kind born of survival.

Before he could speak again, Charles-sweet, broken Charles-punched him.

The sound was satisfying in a way that made Lily's heart clench. A single punch, but a decade of grief roared through it. Pain, betrayal, abandonment-it was all there, finally released.

Erik staggered, jaw slack, but didn't fall.

So Lily stepped forward, without hesitation, and drove her fist into his face with all the force of her haunted years.

There was a loud, brutal crack as his head snapped to the side. He stumbled into the wall, catching himself against the cold concrete, a hand rising to cradle his jaw.

They stood shoulder to shoulder-Charles and Lily-and Erik looked up at the two people who had once called him friend.

"Good to see you too, old friends," he muttered, almost breathless. His gaze flicked to Charles' legs. "And walking."

"No thanks to you," they snapped in unison.

Erik's smirk faltered. "It's still creepy when you do that," he grumbled, pushing himself upright.

"You're the last people in the world I expected to see today," he said, brushing dust off his prison whites.

"Believe me, we wouldn't be here if we didn't have to," Charles replied.

"If we get out of here, we do it my way: no killing."

"No helmet. I couldn't disobey you even if I wanted," Erik said, tapping the side of his head.

Charles stepped closer, rage still simmering just beneath the surface. "I'm never getting inside that head again. I need your word, Erik."

A pause. Erik hesitated-longer than either of them liked-but then gave a small, almost reluctant nod.

Footsteps thundered in the distance.

Guards. Plastic guns raised. Voices loud.

"Hold it right there!" one shouted.

Charles' hand wrapped around Lily's wrist, tight and protective. She didn't pull away.

"Charles?" Erik asked, but there was no recognition in Charles' eyes.

"Don't move!"

"Hands up, or we will shoot!"

"Freeze them, Charles," Erik urged, the plea almost panicked.

"I can't," Charles hissed, his voice full of pain and helplessness.

Erik looked at him, stunned. "Lily?"