I don't own and I sincerely believe Erik would be quite the hot mess after knowing what he did to Charles.
XXX
Never Going to be You or Me, Love
XXX
Raven wants to cry but it is the kind of sadness that even tears can't convey.
"Your telepath," there is a projection of an image of a man she doesn't recognize, "won't ever walk again."
He is pale and drained. Hands bony and lips dry. He wears those same stuffy old cardigans but he is too unfeeling and that is not Charles. That can't be. But Emma Frost is not looking at her.
She is looking at Erik with eyes as blue as his.
But it is much too late by then.
She can hardly breathe. Her hands are shaking and she finally dissolves into a scale blue with a sharp shudder through her bones as it all begins to settle in the pit of her stomach. Everything is suddenly too noticeable, the silence too eerie, and her vision seems to hone into the details. But she is incapable of feeling anymore.
"Raven."
She hears him call her name.
Panic snakes in, wrapping a hand around her throat and squeezing. The bruises will be magnificent when they blossom but she can no longer be Charles' little sister. She has lost all that the moment she took Erik's hand instead.
No more midnight snacks in remembrance of how they first met. Never the sound of his thesis luring her to sleep again.
"It's Mystique now, Magneto."
The grip releases her neck with a lingering caress and her voice is just as cool as the metal he is so familiar with. As she stands up, off of the chair in their makeshift base, her skin fades into a pale flesh tone but her eyes don't go. It is still that same startling gold when she leaves the room.
"We left him."
She pauses in the doorway and lets her words sink to the bottomless ocean where Charles will never look for them again.
There is no apology and he doesn't call after her.
000
Emma likes it when things are black and white, more white than black but she will settle. Only now, it is all running gray and she can't stand for that.
Pushing open the door of the bedroom, she is less than graceful. The doorknob hits the walls and she is waking up with knots in her hair.
"The kitchen is done for."
Mystique's mind is a blank like she has voluntarily given it all up but when those gold-blue eyes fall over her, there is nothing but recognition and pure resentment. She doesn't blame her, she doesn't like this arrangement almost just as much.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Her words are sleep deprived and her voice is menacing.
"He feels responsible."
Emma doesn't like to make excuses. Her tone just as fierce, like clipped wings, sharp and hurtful. Like the hated messenger with the hidden agenda, they all know she is barely stating the truth. She tosses a lock of blonde over her shoulder and says, simple and pointed.
"Daddy's feelings are hurt so can you handle him?"
"Erik is not—"
"Someone needs to fix this mess and it isn't going to be me, honey."
She doesn't correct her mistake and say his name, always Magneto now, never Erik again (he prefers it that way). She motions to leave and Mystique is quiet and soft because she knows that she is always listening in either way.
"Can he hear us?"
Emma turns around, stares at the young girl sitting up in bed. And the courtesy (the same type Charles has taught her all those years ago) is almost too much for her. She knows just which he she is referring to and she hates doing this a second time.
"Normally, yes." She glances down at her immaculate nails. "But he is all drugged up, he can barely sense the minds of the people in his own house, let alone yours."
"…Is that supposed to comfort me?"
Mystique's dry laugh is like ice, reverberating in the lonely dusting room. And she returns her empty stare, avoiding all the warm summer skies she knows by heart. Smirk twisting horribly into perfection.
"Are you looking to be comforted?"
There is silence and then anger and loathing flaring through the air in lashes of defiance.
"Never by you."
"Then deal with him."
000
Erik looks very much like he needs a hug, like he needs arms around him and a palm resting gently over the small of his back. But it isn't something she can do, not ever.
"Erik."
There is a knife in his hand.
"It's done."
There is no going back.
She doesn't say it out loud but it's there and it isn't ever going to disappear, like the string of numbers she knows but can't ever admit to seeing on his forearm.
"He—he…" He has a white knuckle grip on the knife and she finally understands that his powers have come undone. If he lets go, there might be another hell to pay for all the damage that he will do. "…He never said a thing."
She can barely tell what form she is in but her fingertips are fluttering a faint blue as she catches sight of her blue eyes in the metal of the knife. She takes another step and they are close enough to touch. And it never ever is any other color outside of blue.
"That is Charles for you."
Raven reaches for the knife instead.
"That is Charles."
He loosens his grip just as it crumbles on itself. Metallic bonds breaking and forming in midair before it falls into her hands. She catches it with ease and turns to leave him alone.
His eyes will always be dark and the metal will always be sharp. But Magneto can no longer hurt the one thing that matters anymore.
Because this is the Brotherhood now and Erik has already done his worst.
XXX Kuro
Because the world will always come in second to Charles for Erik. D': Oh my creys, their love will always be tragic and I love the Brotherhood just as much as I love the X-Men.