Ok, this is the 4th story in my series that doesn't have a name. Anyone got suggestions? The first three stories are called, "Innocent Heart, Guilty Memories", "Imaginary Friends", and "The Ever-Changing Winds."
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me, unless they belong to Marvel, which would be just about all of them. And if you don't know which characters are Marvel's or not, why are you reading this? Go read some comics! Do some research! Make you sure you know the background of these people before you read about them!!
Notes: Okay, this happens a short while after "Innocent Heart, Guilty Memories, " and I am completely ignoring anything that happened after Onslaught and Xavier's imprisonment in the Marvel Universe. So sue me, I don't like to be confined in my writing. So in other words, after the government locked good ol' Charlie up, my own plot takes over. Thanks
**One semi bad word at the end, but not one that isn't heard everyday all over TV, and this kinda gets a little depressing.
Private feedback, please.

by Melodist

Mashed potatoes again. The instant kind that tasted nothing like real potatoes. And they were a little on the runny side. The cook had put lumpy gravy on them to spice up the dinner a little. Not that it mattered at all to Charles Xavier. Nothing mattered anymore. It used to. Every little thing used to matter to him. How he looked, how he smelled, how his attitude was toward the guards. He never missed a chance to show that he was no harm to anyone. That he was a normal man, and that he was not like the other prisoners.

But like everything else in his life, that too, had changed. Unfortunately, he hadn't been around when it happened. He had been locked in his cell, maybe this same one he was in now, maybe some other one in another state. After he had heard the news, nothing mattered. He didn't remember anything since the guard told him.

Looking back, he was glad in a way, that the Nice guard had told him. What was his name? Oh yah, Jeremy. Jeremy was nice to Xavier. He always treated him with a sort of respect. Alan was the Mean one. He taunted Xavier, and sometimes, wouldn't give him his food. Not that it mattered anymore.

How long had it been since he'd heard the news? A month? A year? Two years? It didn't matter. Time had no meaning anymore. Hours krept by, then days, then weeks. It was obvious to any fool that Xavier was never going to be released. Not as long as the world feared mutants, and as long as mutants were blamed for all the world's problems.

Jeremy had been very comforting about the news. He had sat on the bed, and offered a shoulder to lean on while he told of how the X-Men had died. He had gave a list of those who had been lost, and Xavier had wept for the first time since being brought to the cell.

At first, he had been in disbelief. It was all a big joke, it just had to be. His X-Men, his family, his life, they couldn't be DEAD. Then came the realization. They were. He could feel it in his heart. The Dream that he had worked so hard for, so long, was dead along with his X-Men. And if the Dream was dead, then nothing mattered. They had won. The world had triumphed over the good. Man's selfishness and hatred had finally overcame the love and security that he had tried to offer.

When that realization hit, time stopped for Xavier. Days past. He slept when his body was tired, he ate when he was hungry, in Xavier's world, there were no longer any days. He didn't know what year it was, or how long he had been a prisoner. Nothing mattered anymore. He had quit shaving, and for a while, someone would come in and do it for him, but soon, they realized that he didn't care one way or another what he looked like, so they left him alone.

Today though, Xavier knew something was going to be different. He had asked for a razor and some scissors, and they had left him alone once again. What could he do with scissors and a razor? Shave his way through the wall and escape? Definately not.

Xavier wheeled his chair over to the sink and started running some warm water. He reached under to make sure it wasn't too hot, then chuckled at the notion, a sound that hadn't been heard for many years. He picked the scissors off his lap and looked at the edge. Definately sharp enough. The razor was just a back up.

He had once made a promise to himself that he would never leave, nor forsake his X-Men. And he would never let them face something without him being there for them.

Charles studied the scissor's edge for one more minute, then held it to his left wrist. One quick slash was all it took. He stared at the crimson river flowing freely from his wrist and realized that he probably had cut more than deep enough to do what he was trying to accomplish.

Quickely placing his wrist under the water, he watched the blood swirl down the rusted drain.

"I am coming my X-Men. . ." he quietly whispered, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

Jeremy Teller watched sadly as the body was carted away from the dark cell. He had never been able to reach out to Xavier as hard as he may have tried, and now he regretted that he hadn't tried harder. He probably could have prevented this. Or at least seen it coming.

He looked down at the morning's newspaper in his hands and shook his head.

"Just one day too early, Charles. Just one damn day."

He re-read the headline on the front page.

PRESIDENT SIGNS NEW MUTANT-PEACE TREATY THAT GUARANTEES RIGHTS OF MUTANT POPULACE.

Jeremy shook his head one more time. Nothing could be done about it now. It didn't really matter anymore...

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