8 months. It had been 8 months since Hank had left the mansion to do his US tour, to be a spokesperson for mutant kind. He'd done so well in that time that they had offered him a position on a government planning committee. It was a big deal. He'd called Charles earlier that evening to tell him the good news, to make sure Charles was okay. They would be making the announcement the next day on TV.

Charles smiled and laughed his way through the conversation, telling Hank how proud he was to call him friend and brother. He insisted the man take the position, that he stay where he was. Charles was fine. He was keeping busy and yes he still had plenty of serum so he wouldn't need the man to come back anytime soon to make him more.

They'd hung up and Charles had slumped into his desk chair, bright blue eyes even brighter with tears before he shouted, knowing that absolutely no one would hear him. None of the staff had stayed on and he hadn't bothered to hire anyone new in far too long.

He'd made a few drinks before bed, downing each in turn and forgetting to give himself his nightly injection before falling into bed, clothes still on, haphazard and almost engulfing his thin frame. He'd lost weight and only a stiff drink could help him sleep even on the best of nights, which this definitely was not. It was early morning and Charles tossed and turned, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, clothes clinging and making him feel trapped.

He saw each of them, every one he'd ever cared about and they were dead. He moved through the bodies, staring in abject horror before spotting a familiar looking helmet. He shook his head, making a pained sound as he dropped to his knees next to the body of his dearest friend, his love and he threw his head back, shouting out his pain. In the same moment, who knew how many hundreds of miles away that scream echoed in the mind of the same man from the dream. ERIK