How to say I love you:
What, if I but live it,
Were the use in that, love?
Small, indeed.
Only, every moment
Of this waking lifetime
Let me be your lover
And your friend!
Ah, but then, as sure as
Blossom breaks from bud-sheath,
When along the hillside
Spring returns,
Golden speech should flower
From the soul so cherished,
And the mouth your kisses
Filled with fire.
(80)
Neither of them was particularly accustomed to heartfelt outbursts of affection. Erika's youth had taught her to replace love with bitterness and anger, and between her family and her friends Charlotte had learnt swiftly that true displays of affection were better hidden by a façade. Neither of them dared to brave the depths of emotions that brimmed between them, Charlotte dipping a toe in on the late nights when neither of them could sleep but never going too deep, Erika making no sign that she heard the little confessions Charlotte let fall sometimes without thinking. Neither of them dared to face it, and yet, there was something between them – something physical, but something emotional too, that went beyond the boundaries of friendship.
If Charlotte looked at the relationship between them, she found three strands. The first strand, and the deepest, was purely platonic – a friendship, a trust, an intrigue between them. The second, and the most passionate, was physical – she could not say when they first kissed, but she could count every one between them. The third, and the most interesting was, she would argue, romantic – they had never said the words, but she felt it, without a doubt, and she wondered if Erika could too.
It wasn't as if she could broach the subject – Erika had established very firm rules of what took place where and when, and she left no room for talks about feelings (and Charlotte had no desire to break them). On the road, it never felt right – the road, empty and wide, presented no comforting environment to discuss emotions and even in the mornings when they woke drenched in the smell of sweat and sex, neither of them could find the right words. At the facility, Erika had distanced herself and Charlotte felt compressed, and she could not find it in herself to discuss the undercurrent between them when she didn't know who was listening. And here, at Westchester, Charlotte found she had no desire to talk about it. It wasn't like she didn't know she needed to, but t never seemed apt to do so.
They had fallen into an easy routine: training and research, chess and a discussion of politics or philosophy, looks that progressed from muted antagonism to desire, sex (or something along those lines, neither of them cared that much) and Erika returning to her room in the small hours of the morning with lips pressed tight together. Nowhere in the day did they have the privacy or availability to have an emotional discussion, nowhere in her mind could Charlotte formulate the words to start it and nowhere in her heart could she find the bravery to even try.
It – the feeling, the emotion, Love – sat there in the back of her mind, occupying almost none of her time and simply waiting to be acknowledged. And yet she felt it in every moment – when she looked out the window to see Erika working out in the crisp morning air, when she saw her congratulating one of the younger ones on their progress, when they stood together inside Cerebro, when they looked at each other across a chess board, when they lay together catching their breath, when 9 times out of 10 she missed Erika walking back to her room because the other woman made such an effort not to wake her up. It took root inside of her and blossomed until it inhabited every inch of her being, and she looked up at the ceiling of her room and whispered it to herself: 'I love Erika Lehnsherr. I love her.'
When the moment, the words and the courage finally came together, it happened in three sentences: 'I love you, Erika, and I need you to know. I've loved you for a while and it never seemed right to mention it. I don't know what our relationship is and honestly, defining it now seems a little pointless, but all my cards are on the table – you are my friend, my lover and my beloved.'
For Erika, it took a long silence and one sentence: 'I admit, seeing you on the road, I never believed you capable of a meaningful relationship, but it seems I was wrong – I am yours too.'
Between them it takes a silence, one long kiss, several deep breaths, twenty fingers tangled together and two bodies pressed against each other, and Charlotte finds herself living, breathing and being the love that ties them together – physical, romantic and platonic; lover, beloved and friend.
If she could have lived that love for every moment of her life, she would have. But eternity is never on their side and once again things change. The beach happens, a bullet is fired and she falls on the sand, half her body is suddenly gone. They speak one last time, and throughout all Charlotte can think is 'every moment of this lifetime, every moment of this lifetime'. But a painful lesson is a lesson still, and throughout all their futures, pasts and presents the lesson sticks in her mind as she speaks, breathes and lives and throughout all their futures, pasts and presents Charlotte remembers the fierce love of Erika's heart and the passion she felt in everything she did – even loving.
I have this deep and beloved passion for this ship, and I am actually disgusted by how little F/F love it gets.
Headcanon that Charlotte is v much about her eight hours of sleep a night/eating well/etc thing. Erika is sportily active - in a modern AU she'd be at the gym a lot whereas Charlotte would be vegan, do 'juice cleanses' etc. Listen, when I say I have a deep passion for this ship, I mean it.