Disclaimer: They're Marvel's. Pity them. This is the fourth story in my "Satan and Lucifer" series. Thanks goes to Luba Kmetyk for beta reading.
WARNING! This story contains a brief but graphic rape flashback.
Scott, Warren, Bobby and Hank had been sitting around in their 'bumblebee' body armor, joking together, but when Magnus entered the Danger Room holding Meggan's hand, the jokes died instantly. "When did you guys come back from Scotland?" asked Scott, leaping up. "Meggan, how're you feeling?"
"We flew in barely an hour ago," said Magnus. He knelt beside Meggan. "You can go rest if you want."
"I can do it," Meggan protested, "I'm feeling better. Moira said there wasn't anything wrong with me." She tugged at the skirt of her black and yellow uniform and lifted her chin proudly. "I can do it," she repeated.
Magnus squeezed her hand and walked out the door and up to the control booth.
"In light of Meggan's absence, today I will test individual skills rather than teamwork," Charles said into the microphone. "Warren, I'm placing the hoops a little closer together to strengthen your maneuvering capabilities. Bobby, you have to disable these flame jets. Hank, the mechanical barbell will test the strength of your feet, not your hands. Scott, I want you to drill tiny holes all the way through this metal block. By the time you're done, the block should be a fragile lattice you can crush with your hand, with none of the holes touching and none of them larger than a nickel. Preferably smaller. We'll work more with moving targets next time. Meggan, I'm giving you a weaker version of Bobby's flame jets. I want you to make your body more heat-tolerant so that you can pass through the fire, but don't attempt it until you stop feeling the heat as you approach. You will all be graded on your performance and on the time it takes you to complete your tests. Begin!"
Magnus concealed a scowl behind his hand. He'd barely slept in three days, but that had nothing to do with his foul mood. Considering that these children were supposed to form an elite fighting force, Charles wasn't pushing or teaching them nearly hard enough. Even when he supposedly taught them teamwork, he would give them simple, stupid tasks, like giving each of them a test that was obviously meant for the other's powers, and waiting for them to leap to the obvious conclusion and switch places. Magnus had tried to make suggestions early on, but Charles had cut him off in mid-sentence: "Perhaps those tactics were necessary in the camps, Magnus, but this is America, and these are teenagers. We can teach them without traumatizing them." And barely a breath later, Charles had complained that Magnus never contributed to their shared teaching responsibilities! Was he still angry that Magnus had prevented him from inviting Jean to join the school? Didn't he realize that these children would have to fight for their survival someday? If they worked for the government, they would be assigned to bring in ruthless criminals or do jobs deemed to dangerous for mere humans. The children had to be prepared.
Magnus shoved that concern from his mind when he saw the telemetry readouts from the children's body armor.
"Magnus?" said Charles, "I believe it's time we talked."
"She's doing fine," said Magnus through gritted teeth, watching Meggan's erratic heart rate on the monitor, "She's the youngest, the newest, and the only girl. Just give her time."
Creating a heat-tolerant body should have been difficult for Meggan, but within her limits. Instead, every time one of the boys came within five feet of her, she matched their bodies and powers, suddenly growing Warren's wings, or Hank's large, muscular body. She didn't even seem to notice until Scott's optic blasts shot through her eyes, destroying the machinery in front of her. Then she curled up crying on the floor.
At that point the boys all maneuvered out of their various tests and came over to Meggan, awkwardly comforting her and trying to get her to stand up again. Charles hit the automatic stop button, and all the tests came to a halt.
Magnus ran downstairs and picked up Meggan's tiny body, cradling her in his arms. She clung to him, not even crying now, just trembling like a broken bird. "What's happening to me?" she whispered.
"It's going to be all right," Magnus soothed.
"Let's bring her to the infirmary," said Charles. "Boys, practice is over for now. I suggest you all go study. You have tests next week, after all."
There were times when Charles was intensely grateful that he was the only telepath in the house. That fact allowed him to phrase his thoughts perfectly before anyone could respond to them. He desperately needed that advantage now.
Charles was amazed when Magnus agreed to talk instead of yelling that everything was fine, the way he'd done all week. The boys left silently, without their usual joking, glancing back at Meggan worriedly as they exited. Scott stayed behind.
"Scott, go with the others," said Magnus as he began walking down the hall to the infirmary.
"She's my sister now," said Scott. "A family should take care of each other, right?"
Magnus stopped and laid his free hand on Scott's shoulder. "Your feelings are commendable, Scott, but Charles and I will work better together if we work alone. You can visit Meggan later if you want. You might want to read to her again."
Scott nodded and squeezed Meggan's hand before following his friends.
In the infirmary, Charles drew blood and took samples, looking for any clue of what might be wrong. "I want to call Moira again. It's obvious this isn't psychosomatic." Every time they'd taken Meggan to see Moira, her symptoms had disappeared. Until now, they'd written it off as homesickness for lack of better theories. "I'm definitely seeing major deterioration on the cellular level," said Charles. "But that's more Moira's field than mine. We have to take her there for long-term observation and treatment." No objections yet from Magnus, who paced back and forth beside the examination table. Charles decided to press his advantage. "And I want to probe her mind."
"Absolutely not, Charles." Magnus snapped.
"Magnus, we need to know about her past medical history, and we've already established that her memories are naturally too shattered and chaotic for her to answer verbal questions about her past. I need to get inside her head, so I can make better sense of--"
"I said I don't want you inside my daughter's mind," said Magnus. "The matter is closed."
Charles drew Magnus away from the examination table and spoke to him in a level murmur. "Magnus, you are the most paranoid, suspicious person I know. And yet you accepted that this girl is your daughter because some gypsy witch told you so, and because this girl, who looks like whatever others want her to, looks like your dead daughter, Anya. Not to mention the fact that Meggan looks and acts like she's four, whereas your child should be ten years old."
"I told you, the gypsies who raised her treated her like an animal. She's just malnourished and under-socialized," said Magnus.
"That's the least likely explanation. Is that why you won't allow me to probe her mind? Because you're afraid I'll find out she's not really your child, and you'll have to start searching again?"
Magnus's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I won't let you into her mind," he said, "because I don't want you to do to her what you did to Gabrielle Haller."
Charles stepped back, enraged. "Now you listen to me, Magnus," he hissed. "Yes, I slept with a patient. One patient. An adult woman. I have never molested children, and if you ever accuse me of that again--"
"Gabrielle was a child," Magnus hissed, keeping his voice down so Meggan couldn't hear. "In her mind, if not in her body. And Jean Grey was a child too, and don't tell me you didn't have urges, playing around in that prepubescent mind of hers."
Charles could feel the blood pulsing behind his eyes, the tightness in his chest. He was never so close to committing murder in his entire life.
Instead he forced himself to breathe normally and turn back to Meggan's samples. Her cells, unstable when he'd done his baseline tests upon her arrival, were now falling apart completely, cells rupturing and reforming uncontrollably. Meggan was clearly in pain, shivering and whimpering on the examination table, creating tentacles, fur, scales, with no pattern or balance. She might very well be dying.
"I'm done examining her," said Charles softly. He put out a light mental call for Scott. The teenaged orphan, who now called Magnus father and Meggan sister, had shown great maturity, helping out whenever needed. And the others had shown a care and sensitivity Charles had often believed teenaged boys incapable of. "I've called Scott, Magnus. He can stay with Meggan. I want to give her a light sedative, and then you and I need to talk."
Charles closed the door of his study and offered Magnus a seat. He pulled up a leather armchair next to Magnus's and took a deep breath. "Meggan's condition has deteriorated ever since you brought her here. Something is clearly wrong, but she shows no sign of infection or disease of any kind that I can identify. We need to contact the gypsies who raised her, to find out if this sort of thing has happened before, and I need to probe her mind, to see if she has even a garbled idea of what's wrong with her."
"I'll leave immediately," said Magnus. "I should take her with me, in case her condition worsens."
"Your paternal devotion and concern are commendable, Magnus, but I think we shall get better results if I go."
Magnus laughed. "You? You're going to win the trust of Gypsies? You're an outsider!"
"I'm also a telepath. They might not tell you everything, and we don't have time to run around in circles. Meggan's condition is grave."
"I'm not leaving her alone with you. So what do you want to do? Travel together, the two of us, Meggan, and all four of the boys, across the British Isles looking for the right kumpania?"
"No. I want you to take care of the school while I'm gone."
Magnus stared at him.
"We have to keep the school open," said Charles, "And we can't drag the boys overseas without their parents raising all kinds of objections."
Magnus opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. It was the first time in a long time that Charles had seen his friend at a loss for words. Then he jerked his head. "Meggan is an empath, she'll sense your desires and comply with them, whether they're --"
"No. You're not going to hold this over me any longer. We're going to settle this once and for all. I made a mistake. That doesn't make me a child molester. Now either you take my word on that and never again insinuate that I am anything less than a decent and honorable man, or we open our minds to each other and you see for yourself. Look inside my mind and let me look inside yours."
"And let you meddle with my thoughts, my personality? No."
"Magnus, either you trust me or you don't. Now open your mind or get out of my house. I'm tired of your having it both ways."
Magnus paused for a long moment. "Can I shut you out of some parts of my mind?"
"If you could, would you trust that what I showed you of myself was the whole truth?"
Pale blue eyes, so like his own, bore into Charles. "My friend, I have done terrible things in the name of survival. I would not court your disgust."
Charles was startled. For the first time in all the years they'd argued over it, Magnus had given him an answer other than a flat 'no' or verbal fencing. Charles chose his words with utmost care. "Magnus, you lived through terrible times. Whatever I see in your mind, I will temper it with the knowledge that you became a nobler, kinder man, one whom I hold as a colleague and friend."
Like a heavy door on rusty locks, Magnus's mind painfully creaked open. Charles could feel Magnus's control warring with his fear, trying to let Charles in without exposing himself to an attack.
Charles sent out his lightest mental probe, a soft touch on the edge of Magnus's mind. He'd waited so long for this. Gently, he sent out his own thoughts along the probe, feeding Magnus exactly as much as he was taking and allowing the two men to acclimate. <>Magnus, I'm going to set up a mind link. It will allow you to explore my mind as deeply as I explore yours.<>
Magnus made a strange sound in his throat. His mind slammed shut, and he was out of his chair and across the room, staring at Charles wide-eyed.
"Magnus, calm down." Charles spread his hands and spoke in a level, soothing voice. "Tell me what's wrong. We agreed to share our thoughts, this is the best way to do so."
Magnus kept staring at him, unseeing. The cords in his neck stood out in sharp definition.
"It's all right. I won't do anything you don't agree to. Take your time, and tell me what's wrong."
Magnus pounded a fist against his own leg in obvious frustration, then sat down. A red tinge colored his cheeks. Magnus was clearly humiliated about something, but what? Something was obviously wrong, probably a deep psychological trauma. Magnus hated showing weakness of any kind, especially to Charles. Magnus took a piece of paper and a pen from the desk and scribbled something, then handed the paper back to Charles. It said, 'I tried to say yes. My throat locked up. I won't be able to speak for a while.'
"Has this happened before?" asked Charles.
Magnus's mental defenses slammed shut to the point where Charles couldn't even sense him in the room. Magnus stood up, but Charles caught his arm. He couldn't let Magnus go now. With Meggan's illness forcing action upon them, this was the best time for them to tackle the mistrust that had crippled their friendship for years. The memory of Scott's first night in the mansion sparked an idea. "Whatever it is, Magnus, I promise not to judge it. I wasn't there."
Magnus closed his eyes and took deep breaths, massaging his throat. Finally he opened his eyes and whispered, "He said he'd send me to be shot if I screamed. The first time, it was months before my throat unlocked enough for me to speak, even in the barracks. And even with Magda … always in silence."
"He raped you?" Charles asked, trying to clarify. Magnus didn't respond. "And your subconscious interpreted psychic intimacy as…" he trailed off, uncertain of what word to use. Magnus thought Charles's mind probe was intimate? Sexual? Not for the first time, Charles tried to guess Magnus's age. He couldn't be more than thirty, maybe younger. He'd probably been in his early teens when it had happened. Frightened, impressionable. Scott's age. More importantly, Jean's age. Did he see Charles's relationship with Jean through the warped lens of his own youth? Now it all made sense. His mistrust of Charles had nothing to do with Gaby. He simply saw all authority figures as sexual deviants and molesters.
Charles sat back in his chair, lost in thought. Magnus was a catamite. A weak personality, used to seducing others instead of trying to lead them. No wonder he always deferred to Charles.
"You lied to me, Charles," said Magnus quietly. His voice was returning, and with it his confidence. Charles resisted the urge to squirm under Magnus's sharp stare. "You said you wouldn't judge me."
Charles stared at Magnus. "I--"
And the rusty doors creaked open once more. Wide open. "You've already judged me. It can't hurt to show you what you've judged." A confident smirk. "Or are you the one who really feared this mind-link?"
Charles pushed forward, preparing for the same subconscious defenses he'd just encountered in Magnus's mind.
Charles knelt on the floor, something huge caught in his throat. He tried to swallow to clear the obstruction, and someone grunted appreciatively and grabbed Charles's hair even tighter. He was suddenly aware of a strong, mixed odor. Part of it was sweat and male musk, coming from the body that shoved itself into his mouth. But underneath, a sharp odor of rotting flesh and explosives. The stench of the lime pits he'd be shot and buried in if he didn't do his best to make Friedrich happy.
Charles fought to free himself, to hide back in his own mind, and suddenly it was his foster father, Marko, beating him on the kitchen floor as he tried to shield his mother's body from the blows. The belt buckle whipped out, stabbing his flesh over and over.
And then he was in hell. Living bodies screamed and burned as he poured their own fat over them to make them burn faster.
And he was in his mother's mind, feeling the love and fear she felt towards the man who beat her. Feeling those emotions as though they were his own, trapped between denying them and trying to soothe his mother's pain.
And he was back on the concrete floor of the back room of the factory, on his knees in front of Friedrich, knowing that his own list of crimes was as long as that of the man he was bribing to keep him alive. He was no better.
Charles found himself back in his study. He and Magnus were both staring at each other across the desk, terrified and horrified, covered in sweat and panting like racehorses.
Magnus cleared his throat. "I believe I owe you an apology, Charles. I'd thought you were a sheltered, sanctimonious man who passed judgment on what you couldn't understand. I hadn't realized you carried your own demons with you."
"What I saw…" Charles shook his head. "How could you have memories of killing Jews and burning their bodies? You were a Jew too."
"I was underage. Weak. I wouldn't have survived manual labor and a starvation diet. But I was a pretty boy." He spat the words bitterly. "Friedrich got me past the first inspection and into the Sonderkommando in return for favors. I bought the privilege of leading grandfathers to the gas showers and pulling gold teeth from their wives by giving Friedrich sexual gratification." His icy sarcasm eased a little as he continued, "The Sonderkommando were guaranteed life for as long as they worked. And I wanted to live. Once you joined the Sonderkommando, you couldn't quit. The Nazis killed any who tried." Charles caught a stray thought from Magnus that he'd saved lives when he could, followed by a sharp self-rebuke that every life he'd saved was bought with a hundred deaths.
"You had no choice," said Charles. "If they hadn't chosen you, they would have chosen someone to do their dirty work."
"What good is my guilt? If a serial murderer came to his trial and said, 'I killed ten people, but I'm sorry I did it,' would he be set free? These Nazis they're bringing for trial, the ones who were just following orders? I was just following orders!"
Charles offered his hand across the desk. "I think I owe you and Scott an apology," said Charles. "I refused to see that you were trying to stay alive. I think I was afraid to admit that if my stepfather's proclivities had run that way, I would have done the same. I think what you endured was terrible, Magnus. But I'm glad you took them up on their obscene offer. My life, and Gabrielle's, and Scott's, and Meggan's, would have been much poorer without you."
Magnus took Charles's hand and opened his mind again. "Meggan," he reminded Charles.
"I think we should rest first. Compose and center ourselves," said Charles.
"We don't have time. Meggan doesn't have time."
Charles couldn't stand the thought of drowning in both their nightmares a second time, which was exactly what would happen if they had no time to prepare. He searched for an alternative. "Why not simply ask me? If I keep the link open, you'll sense if I answer a question dishonestly."
Magnus frowned for a moment. Charles could feel Magnus's skepticism, but finally Magnus asked, "What is the nature of your feelings for Jean Grey?"
"She's my patient and my student. I care for her well being," said Charles. But he was shocked to find, echoed in Magnus's mind, his own dishonesty. He furrowed his brow, trying to choose better words. "I want to protect her…" That felt closer to the truth, but not completely there yet.
"Is there a difference between your feelings for Jean and your feelings for Gabrielle?" asked Magnus.
"Of course there is! Jean is a child!" Charles snapped automatically. He stopped short at the honesty of that, trying to integrate it into his earlier attempts. "I think when I see those qualities in an adult woman, I feel an attraction. Jean is still a child."
"What about my daughter?" asked Magnus, and Charles couldn't help feeling triumphant at the flicker of doubt those words created in Magnus's mind. Magnus still wasn't sure if Meggan really was his daughter. "Meggan's form is malleable; her mind and body conform to the desires of those around her. Gabrielle had a child's mind in a woman's body."
"Meggan is a child. My image of her as such is too strong for me to set aside. Even if, heaven forbid, my subconscious transformed her into an adult woman, I would still perceive her as a four-year-old. I perceived Gabrielle as an adult woman, one who needed to adjust to the world around her, but one who would be expected to act and function as an adult. But Meggan is a child." Charles was relieved to find he believed his own words on every level. He'd been half afraid his subconscious would tell him something terrible he hadn't thought true of himself.
Magnus, at long last, was satisfied and closed his mind gently but firmly to the link. "I'll run the school while you're gone, Charles. Thank you for trying to help my daughter."
Magnus kissed Meggan goodbye. The girl's skin was gray, and she shivered uncontrollably. Fur sprouted, but was too patchy to stop her chills. "Mine tachter," he murmured in Yiddish, too low for Charles to hear, "I shall see you soon, I promise. And you will be healthy and strong." He wrapped her in a blanket and strapped her into the copilot seat, where Charles could keep an eye on her. "Charles will take good care of you. Gei shlufei, Meggan."
Charles's mental probes had proved as useless as his earlier, verbal questions. Meggan's age and her lack of control over her empathic and metamorphic powers had combined to make her past a meager collection of splinters of memory, impossible to interpret. Their only hope now was the kumpania where Magnus had found her.
"Good luck, Charles," said Magnus.
"I'll let you know as soon as I find anything," said Charles. He strapped himself into the pilot's seat and started the engine.
After the plane had taken off and disappeared from view, Magnus squeezed Scott's shoulder and turned to the other boys. "While Charles is gone, I will run the school my way. Is that clear?"
"Yes sir," the boys chorused.
"Good. You have half an hour to get changed and warm up, after which time I expect to see you all in the Danger Room."
Notes: Mine tachter = my daughter. Gei shlufei=go to sleep.