Not About Angels

Chapter 1

"Raven, Heather, stop!"

"I'm going to help them," Raven snapped, but Charles replied, "We don't have time for this. If anything comes in that entrance, you're taking care of it, yes?" Raven's shoulders sagged when she agreed, while the ringing intensified so much that Heather couldn't help but let out a sharp breath, nodding submissively.

She could barely remember what Charles had even said, as she leaned against the wall of the plane, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead. God, her head felt like it was going to explode, making her face scrunch up in pain.

She didn't hear Raven ask if she was okay, only hearing muffled words, each spoken as if they were underwater. Raven was out of the plane before Heather even had the strength to choke out the word, "No."

Heather was surprised that Moira or Charles hadn't noticed Raven's absence or her current position because, hell, they were doing a terrible job at guarding the entrance.

She could hear Charles' voice, no doubt guiding Erik through the submarine, and heard as the sound of it became more and more frantic, until she heard, "He's gone." He who? Heather thought to herself, What had happened? Had Erik been unable to locate Shaw? Or had Erik disappeared?

Or had something happened to the other boys?

Her thoughts were halted when Charles shouted out in excitement, "He's back!" Followed by some quickly spoken words that Heather failed to concencrate on. Her head was beginning to feel better - and by better, she meant her head was a little more clear than before and she could stand up without wanting to fall down. She could hear Charles talking again, as she made her way towards where he and Moira were looking out of a window.

Charles' words became franatic again, before he cried out, slamming his head against the wall, "Don't do this, Erik!" Heather's stomach dropped and her heart sank. No, Erik would never betray them, he couldn't, he wouldn't, he just - Heather was so confused, her head hurt, she just wanted to throw up and pass out and go home, she just wanted this to be over, she just wanted everyone to be fine -

The pain and the ringing were gone within a wink, leaving her dizzy and light headed from the sheer shock of it, but she didn't care about because oh god, she knew. She just knew.

Someone had died.

Before she could help herself or control her grief in any way, she let out a wail - a wail that was matched by a scream from Charles. She didn't care who heard her, for god's sake, someone was dead. Someone - maybe one of her friends - was dead. Oh god, it had been the one thing she had never wanted to happen. There was the chance that it had been Shaw or one of his minions, but at that moment, Heather didn't care because no matter who it was, she could feel their loss, the emptiness that had occupied their place in the world.

"Heather!"

Charles' voice was shaky, watery, like he was already close to tears. Heather opened her eyes, blinking a few times to clear away her own tears, before feeling two sets of hands pull her towards the entrance.

When they made it out, the other two paused and stiffened, their hands releasing her. Heather looked up to see what had stopped them before instantly regretting it. Shaw - or his lifeless body, for that matter - was floating with his arms outward and head bowed, in such a way that Heather almost knew her Christian grandmother - had she been there - would have done the sign of the cross and passed out.

But Heather felt sick when she looked further - Erik followed the body, his face almost unrecognizable, with Shaw's helmet sitting on top of his head.

"Today, our fighting stops!" Erik announced, his voice loud and clear, as Shaw's body fall to the ground with Erik gracefully landing, "Take off your blinders, brothers and sisters. The real enemy is out there." He pointed towards the ships out at sea, as he made his way through the groups, his voice sounding more and more like a preacher. "I feel their guns moving in the water, their metal targeting us. Americans, Soviets, humans. United in their fear of the unknown. The Neanderthal is running scared, my fellow mutants!"