So I've read and re-read Andraste's story, "Chimera" (available on this site!) about the aftermath of "Ultimate X-Men #20" (where Charles decides to restore Erik to his former self, rather than spying on him in the park while he dresses like a lumberjack and teaches special education elementary school students; yes, really) nearly to the point of memorization. In a way, this is something of an homage to that 'fic, since it jumps off of a similar precipice. In addition, I have been trying to coincide all of Erik's clones and resurrections and deaths in the comics into some sort of cohesive timeline, but so far, all I've got is that Onslaught and lumberjack!Erik and Joseph all kind of co-existed, and then, somehow, real!Magneto was back and wreaking havoc, though little of this is actually shown. Fortunately, that is what speculation-via-fanfiction is for.
Summary: Magneto intends to make Charles pay for manipulating his mind. Title comes from Pink Floyd's "Us and Them," as suggested by patientalien because "it's basically Charles and Erik in a nutshell."
After All, We're Only Ordinary Men
The chains are tight, biting into his flesh mercilessly. Charles' wrists went numb minutes ago, stretched as they are along the crossed metal fixture that holds him in place; his legs haven't had feeling for years, though they seem to dangle even more uselessly now than ever, his feet dragging on the concrete below. Wrapped around his bald skull sits a thin device, absurdly small for what it can do. It's cruel for Charles to be stripped of his telepathic abilities like this, but, he knows, his captor is well aware of that. Everything about his current predicament has been manifested with the utmost intentionality.
He regards the room he's being held in as best he can in the dim light. There are the usual hallmarks of Magneto: Metal everywhere, everything smooth and impassive and glinting dangerously. Still, though familiar, even nostalgia-inducing in some strange way, this is Charles' first visit.
He can't quite sense Erik's approach, but he looks up well before Erik has made his way close enough for face-to-face communication, drinks in the subtle yet crucial changes in the other man since they'd last seen one another: His face is smooth, shaven, his clothing once again dark and sleek; he's no longer inhabiting the mindset of a mild-mannered special education teacher whose only aspiration is to help his children lead fulfilling lives. However, more than the physical differences is the attitude: Erik, nee the Master of Magnetism, is all hard fluidity and rage. It brims just beneath his surface, the most obvious outpouring from his gray eyes, which rake over Charles as he draws closer with smug, angry satisfaction.
"Good evening, Charles." Magneto's voice is low and soft, belying the danger that Charles knows all too well he is capable of causing. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, and Charles notices that he isn't wearing his helmet ('because he doesn't have to when he's taken such precaution to keep my mind at bay,' Charles thinks, ruefully sidestepping the irony of Erik using mental manipulation against him). Erik is smiling at him now, baring perfect, pointed teeth: "I trust the accommodations are to your liking?"
In spite of himself, Charles smirks. "I have to say, I'm not sure there are quite enough towels in my bathroom." His expression quickly lapses into solemnity as Erik's hand shoots out, grasping at his chin, holding his face still. Charles grunts, feeling his heart race. Erik, he knows, will never not have this effect on him.
Magneto's face is impassive. "I suppose asking you to atone for your atrocities is an utter improbability." Charles opens his mouth, the words 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' hanging from his lips, but Erik silences him with a raised hand. "No. I don't need an apology from the mighty Charles Xavier. They only ever justify why you are allowed to do terrible things in the name of mutant supplication and assimilation into human society." Charles manages to wince, but also gives a short nod, unable to meet Magneto's gaze. None of what Magneto has said is untrue, he knows.
Magneto strokes his jaw absently, and Charles tries not to enjoy the touch, tries not to enjoy the close proximity of the other man, particularly when he knows that Erik could quite easily kill him. Still, when the hand tightens around his throat, Charles instinctively struggles; then Magneto withdraws his hand, and he sags in relief. "You're at my mercy, Charles. You're aware of that; and yet, you restored my memories of your own accord, knowing I would seek you out. Why?"
Charles wets his lips. "I realized ... that it was unethical not to let you live your life at full mental capacity," he manages, cautiously meeting Erik's gaze. "I couldn't pretend that my actions were noble any longer."
"I suppose when you get to play God anytime you wish, it's difficult to retain your precious morality." Magneto's tone is casual, but his words sting. Charles looks away, and then back at Magneto's next remark: "A teacher, though, Charles? Really?"
Bemused, Charles cannot help but smile. "You've much to offer as an educator, my friend," he says sincerely.
This is apparently the wrong response, however, as evidenced by the reinstatement of Magneto's icy demeanor. "'My friend,'" he repeats sardonically. "You still have a lot of nerve. Too much. You also presume much based on our former friendship," he spits out, emphasizing 'former' purposefully. His next words are spoken a hare's breath away from Charles' ear, and Charles can feel puffs of air on his throat, Magneto's face tantalizingly close. "Why did you really do it, Charles?" he hisses. "Why keep me retained as your mindless puppet, instead of killing me and taking away the threat of my plans for humanity's eventual extinction for good?" At this, he pokes Charles in the chest sharply with one finger. "Why couldn't you just let me go, Charles? Tell me," he demands when Charles says nothing for several seconds.
Charles' lips purse. Suddenly, he responds, rather brazenly, "I think you know the answer to that, Erik."
"I want to hear you say it, Charles."
Charles sighs. If he were to turn his head only scant inches, his mouth would be on Erik's, he thinks absently. "I always hope that, one day, we will be able to reconcile our differences; that we'll be able to come together, as partners, equals, on the same side." In truth, he hadn't realized at first that Erik had even survived the mind-wipe; later, once Onslaught had been finally taken down and defeated and there had been time to think, to plan instead of constantly rolling with the punches and barely surviving from day-to-day, Charles had done what he had felt, at the time, was best, for all of them. However, watching Erik's barely concealed rage as the other man loomed before him, his eyes full of anger and, yes, hurt, Charles knew it had been the wrong decision for him to make. "I'm sorry, Erik," he adds, hoping to mollify, to show that, if nothing else, he is sincere in his repentance. "I know you don't want an apology, but I'm sorry."
The chains around his wrists suddenly unfurl, and Charles falls to the ground, landing hard on his knees, the movement jarring for the rest of his body, even if he can't feel the initial impact. Palms to the floor, he glances with some fear up at Erik, who glares down at him with his usual furiosity. "That's not the point of this, Charles."
Charles blinks. "If you think I'm beyond redemption, am I here to be killed?" he queries.
"No," Magneto says simply. He continues when Charles simply stares up at him, confused. "If murder was my only goal, I could have accomplished that with much less fanfare," he says, boasting. "But you're correct when you say that you're beyond redemption, Charles."
"I don't understand ..."
Magneto smirks. "You're obviously not fit to rule over the X-Men anymore," he infers. "On the contrary, I'm pretty sure the last of your damnable idealism has all but been siphoned out of you." Charles says nothing, but listens intently. "You can't go back," Magneto continues, "but we can move forward. Together."
"Erik -"
"Join me, Charles." The words hang in the air between them, and Charles' eyes widen in shock. "Oh, don't look so surprised," Magneto says, snorting ruefully. "Since your moral high-ground has obviously toppled significantly over the years, what's the harm?"
Charles bristles a bit. "What makes you think I would want to join your mutant terrorist brigade?"
Erik outright laughs. "Honestly, Charles, you slay me. Who else would honestly accept you to their cause? After all you've done, all of the people you've disappointed." He waves a hand, and Charles can suddenly feel the bits of metal on his person reaching skyward. Eventually, he floats in the air directly in front of Magneto, and the other man reaches out and grabs his collar. "I'm your only option. I always have been the only one who has truly understood you. You can deny it -"
"No, you're right. You are." Magneto's hand is back, cupping his face, but this time, Charles leans into the touch. "I still believe we can find some way to compromise our ideals," Charles murmurs. "We don't need to be terrorists to earn respect, Erik."
Erik leans closer, near enough for their foreheads to touch lightly. "We don't need to be total pacifists either, Charles." He smiles. "But I suspect you already know that, what with how well you've raised up your own mutant army."
Briefly, images of the destruction caused by Colossus, by his own team flash unbidden through Charles' mind. "You've always wanted peace, so you wrap your methods of warfare up in pretty promises of 'compromise' and fairness, and then you wonder why it never works out. Because it's a lie, Charles. It's a naive lie." Magneto's next words are spoken directly against Charles' quivering lips: "No more pretenses. Join me. We'll do it right this time, the both of us. Your X-Men and my Brotherhood, together, under one roof, watching out for one another, side-by-side." They kiss, then, and Charles allows Erik to control it, allows him to slip his tongue into Charles' mouth. Erik's panting when he speaks again: "So I believe only one question remains, Charles: Your place or mine?"
Charles sighs. "Mine, I suppose. It has a proper amount of towels, at least."
Erik snorts. "Poor little rich boy," he laughs, and then silences Charles' impending huffiness with another series of kisses that leaves them both gasping for air. "It's you and me against the world now, Charles, as it should always have been," Magneto breathes, and Charles fights down his doubts as Magneto graciously removes the telepathy inhibitor, allowing instead for mutual feelings of arousal to overtake him through their mental bond. "You, Charles. Me. Us," Erik murmurs, and Charles lets himself be tugged into Magneto's waiting embrace that promises warmth and security and a brighter future, for all of them.