A/N: I don't know. Pretend there was some time after they got Erik out of prison and before everything went to shit. Ta-Da...?
Their reunion was bittersweet – more bitter than sweet at first.
The taint of their history was in every word, every glance and in the air every time one walked into a room containing the other.
That was another thing – Charles and his walking. It filled Erik with more guilt than seeing Charles in a wheelchair ever had. Erik was watching the man he cared most for in the world give up everything that he was, everything that defined him. Hiding behind the excuse of the ability to walk.
But Erik knew that wasn't it.
He knew from the start that it was all about shutting the mutant population out – he didn't need to hear the softly spoken plans devised by Hank and Logan as to how to get the professor to decrease his dosage to know that.
Eric felt betrayed by Charles – even more so that he would sacrifice his mutant abilities. But he knew, deep down, that it was all his fault.
Still, over time, the two men began to remember the happiness they had shared. That they were on the same page, once.
Chess became a mediator between them and they began to play it as frequently as they had before, though it meant an entirely different thing now.
At first, it was like they were sizing one another up, playing the game in more dimensions than just on the board. They soon grew tired of the constant competition, however, and fell back into their old ways – except, of course, without Charles having the ability to pre-empt Erik's every move.
It became an unspoken agreement that they'd play each night, fearing that their peaceful time together would be short.
One night, Charles was late as Erik waited, board ready and scotch in hand. Assuming Charles had decided not to come tonight, Erik began to wander around the once-familiar room. He ran his fingers over the leather-bound books on the shelves, smiling at one or another; swiped at the dust that had gathered on the neglected ornate wood work; flicked through the records by the player, picking one out that he remembered from his childhood.
Erik had lost many of his happy memories of his childhood before the war a long time ago, but every now and then something triggered one. Music was often one of these triggers and so he relished in the sound every time a song played.
Not long after he put the record on, Erik felt someone behind him.
"I thought you weren't coming," he said softly, before taking a last sip of his scotch.
A sigh. "I...considered it."
Erik turned to face the other man, frowning slightly. He didn't ask why, but knew that his face did. So Charles obliged him.
"I sought to save myself the pain, when this is inevitably over and we go our separate ways again."
This struck Erik's heart so painfully but he knew that he couldn't allay Charles' fears. So he didn't even try.
"You know, there's one good thing about this whole walking thing again," Erik said, putting his glass down.
Charles snorted. "Just one?"
"Just one," Erik affirmed. "It means we can do this."
And, ever so carefully, Erik took the broken man into his arms and they began to slowly sway with the music. Charles was tense at first, but he soon relaxed into the other man's touch. Erik pulled him closer until their bodies were pressed together and Charles could rest his head on Erik's shoulder, who hummed contentedly.
"If only we could stay like this forever."
"What, dance the world away? Dance the impeding war and apocalypse away?" Charles retorted sarcastically.
"Come now, Charles," Erik chastised. "Just enjoy this with me. We don't need to dance anything away – for now, just dance."
And that was all that he needed to say. Each lost in the other and the music, they hardly noticed time passing until the song stopped as the record came to an end. They stopped dancing, but neither was ready to let go. So they just stood there, holding one another.
Erik broke the silence first. "Do you want to play chess?" he whispered.
Charles paused before answering in a gravelly voice. "If I let go of you now, will I ever have the chance to hold you the same again?"
"I..." clutching him tighter, Erik hesitated. "I...don't know..."
"Then no thank you, I don't think I do want to play chess."
Erik chuckled but he was so weighed down by the possibility of never being this close to Charles again that it quickly died in his throat.
"C'mon," he mumbled against the other man's neck, before leading him away. Charles followed blindly, merely trying to maintain as much contact as possible.
The next morning found the two men awaken in Erik's bed, wearing the same clothes they had the day before, wrapped up impossibly tight in one another.
They never talked of it after they went their separate ways on successfully changing the future – no longer needing to once Charles got his powers back. Sometimes there was a repeat, but it was never planned. Just happened instead of chess occasionally, on some of Erik's rare visits to see Charles.
And they were no happier or sadder for it.