Charles Xavier, had seen many things in his life. All mad and livid, he'd seen the unimaginable. From teleporters, to healers, green children with tentacles and women with the ability to change form. He had handled hydra agents and odd portals leading to strange planets. But never had he ever seen one as dull and morbid as this dimension he had encountered.

It happened one day 6 months today when a mutant, who is long gone, de-aged him and Erik. Had he thought it possible? Well he hadn't contemplated the idea. But his couldn't deny that his younger body was fit (even if he still had his wheel chair). To his surprise, Erik had fallen unconscious through the whole thing so he missed the evil master mind plan, and endless blabber from the poor soul. The being had proven to be quite powerful, merging, or rather forcing the two worlds together. He had encountered the same mutant months back, but it explained that it was fate. Whatever that meant. Choking out a sob and dying before him.

Erik wasn't pleased either, mutants still existed, only now they lived alongside a different era. Powers not even visible, or probably non-existent. The people were similar to their own time, but so much more reliant, afraid. He had never felt such fear and worthlessness in all his years alive. Technology was also hopelessly advanced and nature diminishing before him. Another thing that struck out was the fashion. It was, ridiculous. Men and women wore clothing ripped and hanging of them, which confused him because, essentially you could just tear up the clothing you own and get the same effect. He and Erik after all were, out of place (well mostly Erik and his maroon cape). They sorted the issue quickly, after all they didn't want a repeat of what happened last time...

The mutant population and the humans passes the day as if nothing happened, and he wondered if he and Erik were the only ones aware of the happening.

He stood before the mirror, running a hand through his hair, after 40 years of being bold, it was unusual. He smiled slightly.

He could get used to this.

"Bündel Scheiße, nutzlose Idioten!"

The door of the apartment slammed loudly and boots thudded across the floor, a stream of angry curses in German projected loudly enough for him to know instantly who it was. He rolled his eyes, already knowing what Erik would say.

"Charles!" He watched Erik wave his hands furiously, his friend looking just like the day he did in Cuba. He groaned internally, fucking Cuba. Drifting off again, only to be bought back almost instantly by Erik throwing cutlery across the room." Nothing Charles, I can't find ANYTHING".

He watched Erik mutter to himself, tearing at his hair, after being stuck with him for 6 months, he always found himself itching with impatience. "Ich werde ihn und seine Familie töten. Idioten!"

Charles tried his best to keep up an enthusiastic smile, but felt it turn grim."We are not killing anyone Erik, nor are we looking for that mutant ".

"Well what are we going to do Charles? The X-men, mutants, everything we have done, its like it never happened!" We are stuck here he began to wave his hands around again, making Charles wonder why he always resorted to jazz hands. "I asked around, did some looking. Nobody knew anything in fact I don't think they even knew me Charles! No one is taking this-me seriously". He tried not to scoff at Erik's vanity, but he was kind of hoping Erik had disappeared to get a few beers.

Moving his chair to face Erik, he tapped sighing thoughtfully "Wearing plaid, I don't think anyone would take you seriously."

He knew it probably wasn't a good idea to wind him up, but he really desperately felt he needed a break from... Everything.

A growl was the only response he got, "You should have let me kill him."

"You were unconscious you idiot, sleeping like a baby"

"Charles", came a stern warning.

"Erik", he said, rubbing his forehead.

"What aren't you telling me?" Sometimes he swore that Erik was the telepathic one.

"That the mutant you are looking is dead, my friend"

"Dead!?" He could feel the window metallic structure of the building began to shift and shake, with each moment. He couldn't let it go on for much longer or the people will start thinking an earthquake was being bestowed upon them. Or maybe the sullen people of this reality had another version of Stryker...

"Erik, stop it"

"No"

He moved his head to the side ignoring the spoon being flung across the room aimed at his head. "Erik, you bloody turd, stop" he shouted, losing his patience, and as he hoped the movement stopped. He sighed for the hundredth time and watched as Erik sunk into his chair, and with that he began to explain.

"Charles, why did you waste 6 months to tell me this?" said Erik, gaze turning threatening with every glance. "Why did I spend 6 months looking for someone who was already dead?"

"I wan- I wanted to see if I could sort it"

"Bullshit", Charles watched as he stood pacing backwards and forwards. Fists clenched together, he was well and truly losing it. A few moments passed and Erik stopped suddenly, looking as if he had realised something. "You are loving this aren't you?", he fired accusingly.

"What?"

The shark like grin followed "Being young again, you're loving this. Looking like you did years ago. You want this to be permanent don't you Charles?"

"Erik no its not like that".

"You Charles with your perfect hair and your perfect face", he picked up his helmet thoughtfully, "If its not like that, then why aren't we trying to fix it?"

"Because we have been merged into one, this is beyond me Erik! I cant do anything! This is by far the strangest thing we encountered, but I am sorry to break this to you but we are stuc-"

A loud bang erupted through the building, which caught both men off guard. It echoed through the halls as people began to evacuate their apartments. He watched Erik grab his helmet and throw it into his backpack, take his long black coat and throw it on quickly. He loaded a gun before him and tucked it into his waistband.

"We have to leave", wheeling himself towards the door, he felt Erik's power grip onto the metal in the chair, saving him from straining his arms. "Where" came a gruff reply.

"Somewhere far away".

Hello there, erm this is my first proper fic.

No, I don't have a beta reader (which explains the terrible grammar/spelling).

*insert awkward laugh*

I feel like Charles is a bit OC...hmmm

Oh well... ️