Zion
Erik looked out over the sea of tents. On the horizon, a fine dust was rising; new houses were going up. The ridge of the mountains shimmered with heat haze.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.
"Yes," Charles said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Erik reached down to pat his shoulder. Charles brushed his hand away. "A lovely prison."
"A refuge," Erik said sharply. "A home."
"While out there, our people are dying."
"Our people?" Erik turned, raising an eyebrow. "You admit that, now?"
"Does it matter, now, whether I do?"
"Of course it matters," Erik said. He strode back toward the encampment. Charles caught up with him easily; the new wheelchair was handling rough terrain much better. It still needed to be lighter, though. He'd seen blisters on Charles's hands the night before.
"More prison camps are being built in America," Charles said. "I've seen it with Cerebro."
"All the more reason for people to come here," Erik said.
"How can they? Most of them can't fly. Or swim."
"Haven't your X-Men been keeping busy? I hear the Blackbird was spotted last week in Russia. Or was it Texas?"
"I'm sure you don't want to know," Charles said.
"The governor of Genosha can't afford to know," Erik said distantly. "But I'm not complaining."
"We can't rescue them all," Charles said. The sound of wheels crunching over dirt stopped, and Erik stopped, too, although he didn't turn. "There are millions."
"Then they'll die," Erik said. "But the people here will live." He did turn, then, and held out a hand to Charles. "In peace. You gave me hope of that."
Charles didn't take the offered hand. "How is Raven, these days?"
Erik frowned and started walking again. Charles paced him in the chair. "You would know better than I would."
"Still in America," Charles said. "Still free. She's with the resistance group."
"How kind of you to take an interest."
"I'm not sure if that's sarcasm or not," Charles said.
Erik snorted. "Neither am I."
"She still has Rogue and Pyro with her. She's increasingly frustrated with the leaders of the underground in Washington. She's talking about reforming the Brotherhood of Mutants."
Erik said nothing.
Charles cut the wheels of the chair sharply, pulling it in front of him. "Are you going back?"
Erik looked out at the encampment. People were emerging from their tents, fetching water and heading off to work details. Children ran back and forth between the neat rows. He could hear them shouting. He looked down at Charles. "Are you?"
Charles looked tired. "I can't leave the students. Maybe in a few years."
"How many years are you counting on, Charles?"
Charles smiled, then, if crookedly. "Enough."
"And I'm hardly going to leave the birth of a new civilization in your hands," Erik said. "You'd insist on holding elections, and by the time I got back, you'd have all gone to hell by majority vote."
"It does seem slightly more fair than a perpetual dictatorship," Charles said. "However benevolent."
"Yes, it would, to you, but--" Erik broke off as one of the small running forms hurtled toward them. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps that's for later.
Charles turned to look. His eyes unfocused slightly. "She says if you don't bring me back, I'll be late starting school."
"Impertinent child," Erik said fondly, and waited for Rachel to come pelting into arm's reach. He caught her and lifted her easily, setting her on Charles's lap.
"Where are your parents this morning?" Charles asked, setting a steady if slower pace back toward the tents. "Usually it's Jean's job to scold me."
"They're on the--" Rachel began, and then looked up at Erik.
He sighed and turned up his hands. "I hear nothing," he said.
"On the plane, going, um, somewhere," Rachel said. "Kurt's watching me and Nathan."
"Not such good watching," Erik pointed out.
Rachel frowned at him as if to say, don't be silly. "I won't get hurt."
"That's right," Charles said. He tightened his arms around her, and let Erik push the chair the rest of the way home.