Memories

Chapter One

Charles was a mess.

Ever since Cuba, he hasn't been the same. After Moira left, Charles having wiped her memory, he let himself go. He began drinking to try to forget that he had no use of his legs, spiraling downwards into a pit of despair. He wished to forget the time he had spent with Erik; erase his own memories and replace them with something else. Charles knew he couldn't do that, though. He needed to remember what Erik's weaknesses were- what made him tick and what could throw him off his game. He had to know his enemy to calculate his victory.

It was odd to Charles to think of Erik as his enemy, but he couldn't very well think of Erik as his friend, either. Perhaps adversary better suited Erik to Charles.

Charles was sitting in his library now, a glass of scotch in one hand and a book in the other. He spent most of his time reading, the rest of it mostly being spent using Cerebro. The small amount of time Charles wasn't brooding in the library or using Cerebro, he was sleeping and reluctantly eating. Hank usually had to force him to eat.

He sighed and put his book down, pinching the bridge of his nose with frustration. He hadn't been able to get the metal-bending German out of his head since he had met the man, but now it was becoming a hindrance. He took a drink from his glass, then put his glass down. He began rubbing his temples, a headache forming.

The thoughts of his housemates were encasing his mind, swarming him. Ever since Cuba, he also has seemingly lost a bit of his control over his powers, especially when they're thinking so hard. At the moment, they seemed to be discussing Erik and Charles once again. They simply couldn't leave something well enough alone.

Is his slump because of losing Raven or Erik? How close had Charles and Erik been? That thought was from Sean. He was curious, if a bit concerned. Sean always was quite curious. The saying 'curiosity killed the cat' could easily apply to Banshee.

I hope Charles can move on from Erik. That was Beast. He seemed to be extremely concerned. He'd had to get over someone, too, after the events in Cuba. He knew how it felt to be abandoned, even if it had been Hank's own fault.

Charles and Erik had been close... As close as Darwin and I could have been... Alex hadn't been able to let go of his 'friend'. Armando's death had hit the whole team hard, but none more so than Alex, except perhaps Charles and Erik. Darwin had been Charles's and Erik's responsibility- they had dragged him into their battle, ultimately causing his demise at the hands of a madman from Erik's past by the name of Sebastian Shaw. Thus, guilt had clouded both the men's minds.

Yet Alex and Armando had become extremely close in the short time they had known each other. The two had been inseparable, and Charles had often wondered if it had gone passed merely friendship. It hadn't been Charles's business, so he had never asked. Havok hadn't had time to mourn his close friend, being too busy training to take down the man who had killed Darwin. Charles was sorry for that- everyone deserved to mourn.

"Professor, it's time for dinner," Hank informed him, coming into the library. Charles sighed, took a last swig of his drink, and rolled his wheelchair over to where Hank stood in the doorway. "Have you had a good day, Professor?" Hank was always trying to make sure Professor Xavier was comfortable. Ever since the accident, Hank has had to take care of him, and he took his duties seriously.

Charles, personally, hated it. But it did warm him inside at Hank's protective behavior, even if it did make him feel like an invalid sometimes. "As good a day as it could be." Charles replied with a sigh, not feeling like putting on a façade today. Usually, he would try to be pleasant and act like life was splendid, but after a glass of scotch, accompanied by a horrible headache, he was tired of trying.

Hank remained silent after that, following behind Charles. Hank knew that Charles would throw a fit if Beast tried to do it for him. Charles needed to feel in control in a world where he seemed to have little control now.

Charles and Beast took the elevator- which had been added shortly after the Cuban mission- down to ground level. They went to the kitchen, seeing Havok and Banshee sitting at the table quietly. "How are you doing today, Professor?" Alex stood up quickly to go over to Charles, but Charles waved him off, rolling over to the table.

"It has been fine, Mr. Summers. Now, please sit back down. Both of you," Charles said dismissively, and Alex obeyed, going to sit, once again, beside Banshee. Hank followed soon after, sitting in between the Professor, who sat at the end of the table, and Sean.

They passed around the food, each filling their plates. The three students sat in silence, but Charles Xavier could never sit in silence. There would always be eternal chatter in his head. The three's thoughts were broadcasted to the telepath, not giving him a moment's peace as the headache grew.

Charles hardly ate, the other three eating a hearty meal fit for three growing boys. Charles ate a meal-size more fit for a small animal.

Once they all finished their food, Charles quickly made his exit, going to his room on the second floor via the elevator. When he got to his room, he got some pajamas and struggled to put them on in the wheelchair after taking his normal clothes off. When that was done, he lifted himself out of his chair using the gradually growing muscles in his arms and sort of threw himself into his bed.

He struggled into the bed, using only his arms since his legs were useless. Once he was finally situated, he was left panting from exertion, exhaustion weighing him down.

His eyelids felt heavy, and he soon gave in to exhaustion, falling asleep easily.