A/N: A few notes, italics are words spoken in Polish.
Looking for Hope.
It was the smell of the mud that Erik remembered most about that day; the mud and the rain. It fell in cold heavy drops, drenching the thin fabric of his coat and clothes. At first, Erik welcomed the change in weather. After being stuffed in a cramped boxcar full of people for many long hours had been suffocating and Erik had been in near constant sweat. Now he was chilled to the bone and weak from hunger and fatigue and fever. But at eleven years old all he could fell was his fear and confusion. Where were they going now? What had he done to deserve this? He was a good boy, never got into trouble; well most of the time. Was that why this was happening, because he broke the bowl and then lied about it? He tried to make up for it. He came clean to Mama, who only smiled at him and gently placed her warm hand on his head.
"Thank you for telling me, Erik," she replied, kissing his forehead. "That was a very brave thing to do."
That made him feel safe for a while, but it hadn't stop the men in grey from knocking on their door one night and taking his father away. Erik ran after them grabbing their ankles and apologizing for breaking Mama's favorite bowl and lying about it. One of the strange men stopped and turned to him, placing a gloved hand on Erik's shoulder.
"Don't worry, little man. All will be well. We just want to have a small chat with your papa. Now, be a good little boy and good back inside. We'll be back," he promised, messing his hair.
"With Papa?" the young Erik asked.
The man grinned and nodded. Erik returned the smile, believing the man in grey. He never saw his father again.
Erik stumbled forward, his shoes heavy with mud. Each step made more difficult than the last as the mud accumulated. He regained his balance and looked at his mother, she walked silently behind him, she once beautiful faced nothing more than a skull with eyes and skin. He looked over at the men inside the gate. They were digging deep holes in the rain. Erik saw numbers on their shinny arms as the men carried large white sacks and dumped them into the freshly dug earth. He met the eyes of one of the men digging and felt his strength draining away.
Erik slipped and tightened the grip on his mother's bony hand. They were moving again and Erik he slipped falling to his knees. He felt hands on his neck, hoisting back to his feet. He started to look behind him, but he was shoved into a stone wall and pulled away from his mother. She continued to scream as men in uniforms started pushing the gates together, closing them shut. Panic rose within him and he stumbled again, falling to his knees in rain and mud. He landed on his hands and knees towards the wall, finding a window casing that was ground level. He hid there, making himself as small as he could, eyes wild in desperation as he looked for the last member of his family.
That's when he heard her screams. Erik looked back and saw her reaching out to him, calling out for him. Her arms out stretched, her hands opening and closing towards him, just as desperate to find him as he was to be with her.
Erik got out of the mud and ran to the gate. "Mama!"
Guards surrounded him and tried to pull him back. Erik felt their hands on him, and then suddenly, he didn't anymore. He felt his fear and need to be with his mother build in his body and grew into something he never felt before; power. The tips of his fingers grew hot and itchy as he longed to touch his mother. Instead the gate began to move, the metal in it twisting off its hinges in its attempt to obey him. He was surrounded by uniformed men, now. They grabbed at him, trying to stop him, to stop this new found power within him. They managed to stop the gates from moving, only to be dragged them along with Erik towards the gate.
He could see her, her eyes bright and wild in her frantic. It was the most animated he'd seen her in months and then he couldn't see anything but dark grey as a uniformed officer blocked his view. There was a sharp pain in his head and then he saw nothing.
"Mama!" Erik cried out at the same time as his younger self. He woke up in a pile of his own sweat and tears. He used both hands to wipe them away, angry at his show of weakness. There was a muffled sob and Erik lifted his head suddenly aware that he was not the only person in the room. Charles Xavier sat on the floor next to Erik's bed. The telepath held his head in his hands as he openly wept from Erik's memories.
"Charles," Erik moaned and twisted around so he could touch the mutant on the shoulder.
Charles shook at the touch and let out a loud sob. "I am so sorry, my friend," he managed, trying to gain his composure. "I don't know what's come over me," the telepath shivered and looked at Erik, his birght blue eyes were dark with tears and red from crying. "It seems the connection we made today at the garden has left us some unexpected side effects. The memory of your kind mother has come at a price."
"With the good there must also come the bad." Erik replied. It sounded like a quote to him, but he wasn't sure where he had heard it.
Erik saw Charles frown at his words. Erik waited for Charles to speak, knowing that if he remained quiet Charles would feel the need to fill in the silence. Sure enough, after a moment Charles said. "I was in the library, trying to get a head start on the training set ups for tomorrow, later on today," He amended. "When I was transported into your head. I tried to stop it, but it was so strong it was like I had no control of my powers. I somehow managed it up here and well, that's that." Charles gestured to the bedroom.
Erik listened with a frown, non-too pleased at having his privacy invaded and now learning that Charles had been the reason he dreamt of his memories.
"Was that the first time you ever used your gift?" Charles asked, shifting his weight.
"Yes, there may have been other times it manifested itself, but if there were, I don't remember them."
Charles nodded as if coming to a conclusion. "It was the same for me. Well, not the same," Charles back-peddled. "It was similar; my gift would show itself during times of extreme emotion or stress."
"Charles..."
"It's the same for Raven. I think it's-"
"Charles!"
The professor stopped and concentrated on his friend.
"I am not one of your students, Professor. Don't treat me like some lab rat. Never again."
"Right, of course," Charles bowed his head in apology. "I guess this is where I take my leave." Charles said, getting to his feet. Erik reached out and caught Charles's wrist.
"Wait, Charles, I..." Erik sighed and removed his hand. "Can you show her to me?"
Even the semi-darkness of his bedroom Erik could clearly see Charles's eyes widen slightly in surprise at the request. "Are you sure?" He didn't need to ask Erik who he meant when he said 'her.'
"Yes," Erik answered. "I just want to see her again, just once more."
Charles smiled gently. "I would be honored to."
Erik moved to sit on the side of the bed. Charles stood in front of him and placed both hands on either side of the metal bender's head, lightly touching Erik's temple. "You know that I can't guarantee that it will be a happy memory."
"It doesn't matter. I just want to see her."
Charles took a shuddering breath and before he could think better about what he was attempting to do, he entered Erik's mind.
Erik broke the water's surface, blinking the cold liquid out of his eyes. The boat was near, rocking softly with the tide.
He is here, Erik thought gleefully. He could sense it, or believed he could sense his former doktor was nearby. Erik took a deep breath and submerged himself into the water. He can feel the large source of metal and willed himself toward the ship's anchor.
"Charles, what is this?" Erik demanded, squinting at their surroundings unhappily.
"Sorry, my friend, though I did warn you that I may not take us where you wanted."
"You said that you couldn't guarantee a happy memory."
"Do you consider this a happy memory?" Charles asked, raising an eyebrow.
Erik didn't answer, but followed himself as he stalked across the side of the boat to the stern. Charles was right behind him. Erik could hear the telepath's excitement in the way he panted, even though they weren't really in the Gulf of Mexico, but in his memory of the Gulf of Mexico and shouldn't be out of breath.
"Herr Doktor," he heard himself say.
Hatred pulsed through him as Shaw turn at the sound of his title. Now he was the one breathing heavily as Memory Erik, weakened and disoriented by the tall blonde woman, pulled out the blade he had acquired in Argentina and heaved it at Shaw. A shell of disappointment filled him as the knife was deftly caught by the girl.
One hit in the chest from the diamond chick later and they were back in the water. Charles turned and saw the flares flying high in the sky.
"Fascinating." Charles whispered.
Erik ignored him and watched himself feel the heavy weight of the anchor and its chain. Memory Erik focused on the metal underwater and activated his power. Shaw must not get away. He will not get away, Erik promised himself and felt the chains responding to his will. He was distracted as Charles groaned out in pain as Erik wielded his power.
"What's wrong Charles?" All around them the water started to churn and the sound of chin links smashing into wood faded as Erik focused on his friend.
"Nothing, it's nothing. Just a part of my memory," he waved off any concern by placing his fingertips to his temple. "It's alright. I'm fine." Just the then picture became clearer and the sounds returned in a rush of cracked wood and scream of metal against metal.
"Oh, My Lord," Charles breathed, enchanted by the destruction around him. A light distracted him as Erik turned his attention back to the memory of himself.
Shaw was getting away! Erik felt the power building in him and suddenly he was his memory, trying to force the submarine to stop. His grip of the sub was intense but it was not enough, and it continued on, dragging Erik behind it like an unruly buoy.
It was getting harder to breathe, his lungs burned and his vision was growing dim. He needed more power. Then suddenly there are arms around him, and a voice in his head, tugging him towards the surface.
Charles...
"Just calm your mind." The Englishman insisted. The reaction was immediate. Erik relinquished his hold on the sub and let his body float to the surface.
"I thought I was alone." Erik stated, slightly dazed as the body received the air it needed, he hadn't meant to say that out loud.
This man, this mutant that was all brown hair and blue eyes smiled at him. "You are not alone. Erik, you are not alone."
He felt those same arms around him once more and they returned to the present.
"What was it you were looking for."
"I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps I was looking for proof that I am no longer that scared boy trapped in the camp. That there is something more to me then this endless hatred." Erik said, projecting his thoughts.
"You're looking for hope," Charles commented quietly.
Erik looked up at the telepath expectantly, then looked down at his hands, and laughed dryly. "Perhaps I am."
"For what it is worth. I can see it. Your potential to do good. I always have. You've just had your path blocked by anger and hatred. There is so much good in your, love, that you don't want to believe that it exists, that your kindness has been stomped out of you by Shaw or Shimdt or whatever he's calling himself today."
"Can we try it again?" Erik asked, searching Charles's eyes.
"You're exhausting, Erik," Charles chuckled breathlessly. "Whatever you need, could it wait until morning, proper morning?"
Charles added, looking to the shaded window. It was pitch dark out, which meant that the sun would be rising soon.
Erik nodded. "Yes, goodnight Charles."
"Goodnight, Erik." Charles replied with a slight bow and moved away from the metal bender's bed to the door.
When he heard Charles turn the door handle Erik said. "Thank you."
"Anytime, my friend."
