A/N: Okay, I don't know where all the mutants were recruited from (other than the general area of America) so I've made a lot of this stuff up. I have limited knowledge of America so forgive me if anything geographical seems off. Also there is some slight slash. Sorry this took so long, I've been tearing out my hair over this chapter.

EDIT: Sorry I split this chapter into two because it was taking so long – the slash is in the next one.

...

"So you two are off on your grand adventure," Erik, seated on a bench just outside the foyer of the CIA building, looked up to see Raven standing in front of him. She was disguised as her usual blonde persona which Erik found somewhat perplexing. Here was another mutant who seemed to find it necessary to hide even when those around her knew of her mutation, knew her true form, and supposedly accepted it.

"I wouldn't call it that," he shuffled over so she could sit beside him.

"Hmm," she twisted her legs together and swung them gently, "well I just wanted to warn you."

"Warn me about what?" he looked at her curiously. She was so young and child-like, but her eyes seemed older than her years. He knew little of her history, but had gathered that she had hidden most of her life. He knew she had met Charles when she was a child, and that he had taken her in and treated her like his sister. He could see in her eyes that she had been made to fear and hate what she was, much like he had.

"Charles," she said simply.

"What about him?" Erik prompted, his interest piqued.

"He lives in a different world to the rest of us," she stopped swinging her legs and curled her fingers around the edge of the bench, "and he has a way of dragging people into it without even realising he's doing it," she chuckled wistfully, her gaze distant.

Erik could understand that.

"He sees the best in people," he said quietly, and ignores the worst.

"Exactly," she looked down, her face vulnerable, "and it's so easy, you want to believe. But it just makes the reality that much harder to take."

"Raven," he waited until she turned to face him, "you don't have to hide from me."

"Why?" He could see the agony in her eyes, could easily relate to it. He may not have a physical mutation but his pain stemmed from it all the same. He had been singled out because of it, had lost his mother because he couldn't harness it, had been trained and tortured until he'd been honed into a weapon. All those years he'd hated it, had blamed it for everything in his life that had gone so disastrously wrong. He hadn't understood that his power wasn't the problem; he was. He might have been taken by Shaw because of it, but he had failed to save his mother, he had failed to use it. From that moment he'd promised never to fail again. He would avenge his mother and it would be that power that would allow him to do so.

"We are what we are," he said, "we can't change that and we shouldn't want to."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered bitterly, the roots of her hair flaming red.

"No," he looked away, "it is not."

"Erik!" Charles walked out of the foyer, "there you are. Raven," his brow furrowed, "is something the matter?"

"No, I'm fine Charles," Raven stood up, her hair completely blonde, and walked over to him. She hugged him briefly, kissed him on the cheek, waved at Erik and then entered the building. Charles watched her go, an endearingly confused expression on his face.

"I don't know what's gotten into her," he seemed to be talking more to himself.

"She has a lot to deal with," Erik stood up and stretched briefly, "where are we going?"

"Well, the first one lives quite close," Charles still had the expression on his face, "and the CIA's given us a helicopter which I must admit I'm dying to fly in."

"I hope it comes with a pilot," Erik remarked, only half joking.

"Your lack of trust wounds me," Charles cracked a smile, "besides; I was rather hoping you'd just levitate the thing."

Erik stared at him, askance. It was one thing to levitate a large metal object from the ground, let alone while he was in it.

"I'm joking, my friend," Charles said, amused, "Here he comes, now."

"Agent Marcus Baker," the man shook hands with both of them, "come on; let's get you two in the air." He led them to a small helicopter parked just outside the building and ushered them in. Within minutes the blades were whirling and Erik watched as the ground steadily grew smaller.

"How do you want to approach this, Charles?" Erik stared out the window, "we can't just walk up to them and accuse them of being mutated."

"I do posses a modicum of subtlety," Charles seemed...annoyed.

"It's not the first trait that comes to mind when I think of our introduction to Hank." Erik pointed out, turning from the window to observe the other's reaction.

"That's low, Erik."Charles crossed his arms, "it was an accident I don't care to repeat."

"Just pointing out that maybe you shouldn't be casually snooping through people's minds before you've even met them."

"Oh not this again," Charles said, exasperated, "you know I won't enter your mind without permission Erik, don't make this about you."

"I'm not. You don't think everyone feels this way? Nobody wants to feel like their secrets are available for your own personal screening."

"If it weren't for me we wouldn't even know they existed."

"Well maybe we shouldn't."

Charles seemed to sense his unease and he anger melted away to be replaced with understanding.

"You've changed your mind."

"I just," he thumped his fist into the window, "can we trust them, the CIA? Can we know, for certain, they won't take advantage of us? How do we know they won't do exactly what Shaw did, en masse?"

"I trust Moira," he said simply, "I've seen her mind – and don't start that again – her intentions are honest and simple. She wants to stop Shaw, not become like him. You worry too much, my friend."

"Someone has to." His conversation with Raven floated to the forefront of his mind.

"Sorry boys," the pilot opened the door for them, "this is as close as I can get you."

"Thanks, we'll take it from here." Charles slid out of the helicopter. Erik followed suit, pulling the door closed behind him.

"What now?" Erik looked around; they had landed in a park. He could see a playground in the distance. It was completely devoid of life and the swing was swaying gently in the slight breeze.

"She's close by," Charles touched his temple, "this way." He headed across the park at a fast pace. Erik fell into step with him, matching his speed with little effort. After a few minutes they emerged into a small neighbourhood.

"Well, here goes nothing." Charles trotted up the wooden stairs of the nearest house and paused at the door to look back at him. Erik raised an eyebrow as if to say 'well, what are you waiting for?' as he walked up to stand beside the suddenly nervous telepath. Charles knocked on the door and they exchanged looks as they waited for a response.

"Hello? Who are you?" the door opened abruptly to reveal a tight-faced woman clutching a shawl protectively about her shoulders.

"Brittany Cooper?" Charles enquired politely, stepping back slightly presumably to decrease her obvious discomfort.

"Yes." Her gaze flickered between them, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"My name is Charles Xavier, and this is my friend Erik Lensherr, may we come in for a moment?"

"No," she looked nervously at Erik who attempted a grin to placate her, "say what you want out here." In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have. He'd been told his grin was 'wolfish'.

"It really would be better discussed privately," Charles stressed and Erik was absolutely certain he was trying desperately not to resort to using his power to convince her.

"You want me to let two strange men into my home?" She crossed her arms defensively, her fingers curling around the edge of the door, "I watch the news, you know."

Charles sighed, "I'm a professor doing research on a special kind of genetic mutation resulting in, well to use street vernacular, 'super powers'. I believe that you- ouch," he looked up, surprised, as Erik elbowed him in the side. Tired with Charles attempt at subtlety, he decided to just say it.

"You're a mutant, we're mutants," he gestured to himself and Charles, "would you like to join our group?"

The door slammed in their faces.

"Well that went well," he remarked mildly.

"Would you like to join our group?" Charles repeated, incredulous, "Did I miss the moment you started recruiting for the boy scouts?"

"Well you weren't getting anywhere," he defended, as they stared at the closed door.

"And what was that about me lacking subtlety?" Charles abruptly turned around and marched down the stairs.

"You do." Erik called after him before speeding up to match his pace.

"I was perfectly subtle." Charles groused.

"You told her you thought she had super powers."

"You asked her to join a mutant club!"

"Now Charles, this isn't about me remember? This is about you."

"Oh stop smirking and just get in the helicopter."

Point one for Erik.

...

"Y-you freaks get the hell off my porch!" The man levelled his gun at them, his finger trembling.

Erik sighed; yet another mutant recruitment mission not going particularly well at all. He had nothing against Charles...much, but the man needed to change his campaign slogan. Somehow 'we're all mutants, let's be friends' just wasn't doing it for them. Especially when the man involved didn't believe he was one.

"We mean you no harm," Charles' hand strayed to his temple, the other raised in surrender.

"Then leave." The man's voice shook slightly, his finger straying dangerously close to the trigger. Erik tensed, preparing to stop the bullet if necessary.

"Alright," Charles backed away, hand still hovering around his temple. Erik sighed as the man hurriedly retreated, a resounding slam in his wake.

"I think we almost got through to that one," he couldn't help the sarcasm.

"How was I supposed to know he didn't know he had a mutation?" Charles grumbled as he walked over to a nearby bench and collapsed onto it.

"You're the telepath, you tell me." Erik sat next to him and stretched his arms along the bench.

"Oh so now it's okay for me to read people's minds before I meet them?" Charles turned, brushing his shoulder against Erik's arm, an incredulous expression on his face.

"I didn't say that." Erik smirked.

"You," Charles made weird shapes with his hands, "frustrate me."

Point two for Erik.

"I frustrate many people," his grin darkened as his thoughts drifted to the man he'd frustrated too many times to count.

"You need to stop thinking about him," he looked up to see Charles watching him carefully, "this obsession of yours is dangerous, my friend."

"Not until his soul rots in the depths of hell," Erik said calmly, refusing to let on just how disturbed he was by Charles' ability to read him without even using his gift.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"Oh it's too late for that," Erik dropped his head onto the edge of the bench and looked up at the sky.

"No I don't think so," Charles remarked casually, "just you wait, my friend, I'll grow on you like a fungus."

"Charming," Erik snorted, "you do have a way with words."

"It's one of my better qualities," Charles agreed, a note of laughter in his voice.

"So where to, next?"

"Well the closest mutant is in Downtown, New York," Charles peered at the paperwork Moira had given him, "a girl named Angel Salvadore."

"We need a different approach," Erik reminded him, "one that won't get the nearest shotgun pointed at us."

"I'm not worried," Charles patted his knee, "I trust you could handle it. Besides, I have a good feeling about this one."

Trust? When had he earned this man's trust? He didn't even trust himself, so why should someone else?

"You shouldn't trust me," he said softly, matter-of-factly even, "I've let everyone down."

Charles turned to him, an inscrutable expression on his face, "It isn't a matter of should or shouldn't, it's a matter of do or don't. I do, are you going to prove me wrong, my friend?"

"Yes." Erik looked away. It was what he'd been doing his whole life; he would be the fool to think he could change.

"I don't believe that." Again Erik was struck by how Charles' answer seemed in response not only to his words, but to his thoughts.

"Then you're a fool."

"Ah but what does that make you, my friend?" Charles grinned, "The fool's favourite."