Title: Inevitable
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance
Word Count: 3907
Summary: Even though, Charles knew from the beginning that Erik would some day hurt him, he finds himself drawn to him. He spends these weeks with him, trying to see only the man he knows he could be and struggling to ignore the inevitable pain that is certain to come.
A/N: So this is what happens, when I get ideas in the middle of the night and try to write a drabble. I honestly tried to keep it short, but – as always – I failed. So it now turned into an almost-4000 words One Shot, that I never intended to write :x
I kept adding more scenes, skipping around the fanfic. Then I messed up the time-line, had to change things around to fit and add more scenes… So, sorry if it might not be really flowing or something :x I just wrote a scene from the middle, then one from the beginning, then the end scene and another middle scene, and so on. I hope it somehow manages to still make sense. Though I don't think it does.
I liked it when I started, but I'm not too sure anymore :x I totally messed up a few scenes there, but after already taking too long to write this, I don't feel like rewriting any of it :x
Anyway, I'm really nervous about posting this, since I've never posted any English fanfic anywhere before. English is not my native language and this story was not beta-read, so you'll have to excuse the mistakes I might have made ;)
So now enjoy - or not -a little mix of angsty romance, drama and maybe a little fluff?
Inevitable
From the very beginning, Charles had known that it was utterly and unmistakably inevitable.
When he first met him, his mind was flooded with all that was Erik Lensherr - his deepest desires, his darkest fears, his most painful experiences, his greatest faults and his unending rage, capable of destroying worlds.
In between all the anger and hurt, there was good inside of him, too and Charles had felt it. But feeling it there just beneath the surface of Erik's mind also came with seeing it clouded by so much pain and anger, that it was barely a whisper among a thousand ear-splitting screams.
In spite of himself, the English man had clung to that little part in his friend, that he knew was his true self - the real Erik. The Erik that was driven away by torture, pain and hate inflicted by people so evil, they weren't worth of being called human. He had put all his hope and faith in helping his friend overcome his traumas to be the man, Charles knew he could be.
And yet, part of him had always known that Erik would hurt him one day - gravely and possibly deadly; if not physically, then at least emotionally.
He knew it was as inevitable as the sun rising continuously every morning.
Charles was as much an empath as he was a telepath. He felt what people felt, saw what they saw. He understood them - usually even better than they understood themselves. The consequence of that was that Charles ever so often knew someone's reaction before it had actually happened. It didn't make life easier though, as it tended to make him close off from people too soon, before they had done anything to fault him.
Normally it'd be little things like presuming which people would envy him, before he told them about his wealth or guessing which girl would most likely react positively to his flirting.
Usually it was mostly like a very good guess, a hunch maybe, but with Erik it was almost like a strong vision, the certainty of it so overwhelming - so clear - it made Charles catch his breath.
His first instinct was to not get involved with the German, to shield himself from the pain that was certain to come, if he got too close to him. His mind tried to pull away, afraid of getting hurt by the rage that was Erik, screaming at him to leave the man to himself.
But Charles didn't - he couldn't.
As much as his mind shied away from Erik, his senses were drawn to him.
Maybe it was his unending need to help people, maybe it was the sheer relief of finally finding another one of Raven's and his kind, maybe it was just Charles' pure fascination with the man that was Erik Lensherr.
Throughout the weeks, he spent with Erik, Charles was glad he'd made the decision to help him, even though on many occasions he'd suddenly feel the stab of overwhelming certainty that one day Erik would hurt him.
Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a few weeks, maybe in ten years.
He didn't know when or how. All he knew was that it would happen eventually and that he wouldn't be able to stop it.
And the closer they got, the worse it would be.
He knew that.
But for the first time in his life, Charles ignored the advice his own mind was giving him. Usually he considered himself to be a very reasonable man, always thinking about everything carefully before taking action. This one time though, he allowed himself to be reckless and maybe – a little selfish.
He had found so much in Erik, much more than he'd ever found in anyone. And that was worth everything.
Despite the bad things, Charles had seen in Erik's mind and despite Erik's inability to trust people, they had clicked immediately. When Charles would have to name the feeling he experienced when he met Erik he might have called it "belonging". It almost seemed liked they were made for each other.
During their recruiting trip, the telepath learned a lot about his new friend.
One of those things was his fondness of mutants. As much as he despised normal humans, he liked the mutants, treating them as if they were his very own family, which he needed to protect.
He also noticed that he always tried his best to make Charles comfortable, letting him have the more comfortable chair, leaving the choice where and what to eat up to him, offering to drive when the smaller man showed even the slightest hint of fatigue.
Sometimes Charles thought that Erik wasn't only protecting the mutant children, but him as well.
Maybe it was only out of habit that the German always slept on the bed next to the door, maybe it wasn't.
But as kind as Erik could be and as much – way too much actually – as Charles liked him, the lingering certainty that his friend would end up hurting him one day, never quite left him.
When Erik invaded the Russian diplomat's house without caring how many of the innocent soldiers got hurt, Charles felt it all over again.
Blinded by hate he almost killed those men that were only doing their job and was only barely stopped by Charles, when he was about to shatter Emma Frost.
"Erik. That's enough!"
The taller man had looked so ready to kill her – like he had killed many before - regarding the metal slings around her neck with even a bit of fascination, as if he was marveling at her breakability and the power he so easily held.
He was capable of so much violence, when it helped him with his ambitions. Charles, forever the most convinced pacifist, would never be able to understand the man's willingness to go to such lengths for revenge.
Erik's rage, all-consuming, showed him once again that he would do everything to accomplish his goals. He was willing to risk everything for his believes and he didn't care the least about the casualties it would take.
Even though Charles knew that he was someone different to Erik, someone who meant something to him, he was deeply afraid of the day he'd be among those casualties.
Throughout the weeks, Erik lived with them at the mansion, Charles noticed the little things. Bad things and good things. Anger and Serenity.
The way he was always aware of his surroundings, always tense and ready to strike, as if the whole world was out to get him.
The way he was with the children, annoyed by their immaturity, but actually enjoying teaching them, laughing with them even.
When he sent Sean flying, Charles had panicked for only a moment. Then he'd noticed the way Erik had focused on the boy, ready to catch him by the metal on his body and he released a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
It was frightening to what extend Erik was willing to push the kids sometimes, always making them go beyond their limits, trying to get better. Sometimes it was like he was trying to built an army. But at the same time it proved how much Erik trusted in these kids' abilities, how much potential he saw in them.
They never really settled into much of routine, though. Erik's mood sometimes changed so fast, going from considerably happy to furiously enraged in a second that it often interfered with the plans they made.
Charles wouldn't necessarily have described Erik as moody, but he definitely had surprising mood swings sometimes.
Some evenings Erik would join them all for dinner and play chess with Charles later and some evenings he'd head upstairs, right after training, tense with barely concealed anger.
Good days and bad days, as the kids called it. Two extremes, the way it always was with Erik.
The good days outweighed the bad ones though. At least that's what Charles told himself. He cherished those days, enjoying each one of them.
And every time Erik laughed that bright laugh, Charles' chest fluttered with joy. But every time Erik had to leave the room to keep himself from destroying something, maybe hurting someone, Charles felt his heart ache.
When Charles finally admitted to himself that he might feel more for Erik, than just friendship, he almost forgot about the inevitable painful future – almost.
The first time they became one not only in minds, but also in bodies, Charles felt, with alarming clarity, that being with Erik would at the same time, be his happiest as well as his most painful experience.
Their first kiss had been tender and careful; shy even, as if they'd both been afraid of breaking each other. They touched each other as if they were made of glass.
The thought had been ridiculous really. They were both men. Erik's body was well-trained, basically steel, and Charles was hardly breakable either.
But they'd still graced the other with feather-like touches, treasuring each other and hesitant to move further. Maybe it actually was because they were men, each unsure of how the other would deal with the advances of someone with the same sex, in spite of their obvious mutual attraction.
When Erik fumbled with the buttons of Charles' shirt, the smaller man had laughed nervously, feeling awkwardly like this was his first time being intimate with someone – anyone - which it wasn't. It might have been his first time with a man, but Charles was certainly far from being a virgin.
But this was different. This was Erik.
When they finally made it to Charles' bed, all clothes discarded, Charles was absolutely sure that Erik had to actually hear his heartbeat. It was too loud and too fast in Charles ears, drowning out all sound, how could he not hear?
Charles then got lost in a confusing, breathtaking, overwhelming swirl of sensations, feelings, touches and all coherent speech and thought left him at once.
There was nothing left but Erik.
Erik breathlessly whispering his name. Erik hungrily devouring his mouth. Erik touching Charles' body all over, leaving heated marks on his skin.
Charles had felt it all. Erik's feelings, his pleasure and joy, mixed with his own, making him shudder in exhilaration.
And it was then, in the middle of pure bliss and an overwhelming blur of sensations, at the highest of all joys, that Charles actually felt the cold stab of regret.
Because Charles knew then, that he would never be able to let go.
And that if Erik ever where to leave him that he'd take every bit of Charles – all his feelings – with him, never to return, never to come back.
After becoming lovers they didn't get to share beds very often. Too much had to be done and taken care of. They had children to train, battles to prepare – as much as Charles didn't want to admit it –, strategies to plan and a household to run.
In between they only found little time for themselves and not all of it was spent in bed. They were after all, grown man. They still treasured their chess games and their endless discussions, while sharing a good wine or brandy.
But the few times they gave into their wants and needs, were all special, all different.
It was always a new experience and always incredibly exhilarating, taking each other to new heights every time, devouring each other completely and becoming one like they'd never been before.
Sometimes Erik was gentle and caring, tender even, going almost painfully slow, touching Charles like he was afraid he might fall apart, treating him like his dearest and most-valued treasure.
And sometimes, only twice actually, Erik was all anger, strength and passion, doing it fast and rough as if letting all his pent up energy flow out, leaving Charles aching and breathless.
Needless to say, Charles preferred the gentle love-making, if not for his own comfort, then for the fact that Erik had actually felt guilty after those two times. His hands had hovered over the few bruises and bite-marks he'd left, afraid to touch, teeth clenching and eyes unreadable.
Charles stopped the apology before it even started.
It's ok. He projected, meaning it.
It wasn't like he'd minded that much. He never cared for rough sex, but this was Erik. Erik who he wanted belong to him entirely. Erik whose hand he'd like to never let go.
Erik who had always had two sides: black and white - never grey.
That's what defined him. That's what made him.
And Charles would never settle for only half of him.
Being with Erik sometimes was frightening, scary even, but it also made him so incredibly – almost terrifyingly – happy, that he couldn't have cared less.
There were times when Erik loudly thought about hurting someone - Nazis, Shaw, humans, sometimes even one of the kids.
These were the times, when Charles was frightened the most, the times, when the immense burden of knowing the inevitable course of events nearly crushed him.
It was only at these times, Charles ever spoke to Erik about it - because it concerned the children.
"Sometimes I'm afraid," he said to him on one of those occasions, when they were curled up on Erik's bed. "That you're actually going to hurt one of the children."
Erik frowned sleepily, clearly already half-asleep and barley comprehending what Charles was saying.
"We've been over this a million times, Charles." He yawned. "They're just thoughts. The kids annoy me sometimes."
He sat up a bit and frowned again, shaking his head in an effort of clearing his head.
"Actually they pretty much annoy me all the time. But I'm not actually going to hurt them."
He bent down to place a careful kiss on Charles forehead – always careful and tender, almost shy -still not used to touch and be touched in spite of the intimacy they'd shared.
"Many people must be thinking of hurting someone, when they're angry or annoyed."
"They do." Charles voice was soft. "But you think about it in a more…intense kind of way. And you think about many different people, almost everyone you meet."
Erik was silent for a minute and then shrugged lightly. But Charles could tell that his shoulders were tense and that he was trying very hard not think about the implications.
"Well, I get annoyed very easily, I guess." He laughed quietly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
They fell silent again for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Charles unconsciously moved closer to his lover, pressing up against his side. He could feel the taller man smile at that.
"I'd never hurt you, though," Erik suddenly whispered, absent-mindedly stroking Charles hair.
When no immediate answer came, he turned to look at Charles, his eyes ever so slightly alarmed.
"You know that, right?"
Charles closed his eyes and swallowed, forcing himself not to let his doubts show on his face. He drew in a calming breath, before opening his eyes again and looking at his lover.
He smiled and his face hurt with the effort it took.
"Of course, Erik. I know."
It was the only time Charles ever lied to Erik.
One of the most contradicting experiences with Erik was the day, he made the satellite dish turn.
"Come on Charles, I know I can do it."
When Erik had told him to shoot him in the face, Charles' had been shocked. He knew Erik and his distrust in his own powers, even though he claimed that he could do it.
He knew that was aware of his inability to control his gift at times.
And he still recklessly told him to shoot him. And not even in the foot or arm, but straight in the head.
Charles wasn't sure what to make of it. Was he just so over-exited to outdo himself that he forgot his own safety? Or did he just not care for it? Did he not care for his own life?
Or maybe it was madness, another dark part of Erik that the telepath had seen in his mind. With all the man had experienced, some kind of madness just below the surface of his nature, waiting to be released, shouldn't be surprising. People had gone mad after enduring much less than Erik had.
But Charles still shuddered at the thought of Erik's mind finally breaking and giving way to a complete madman with this incredible amount of power in his hands.
Not that Charles thought it to be very likely. But with the promise of certain pain ever present between them, Charles couldn't help but wonder if in the end, actual madness would be the cause.
Of course he had refused to shoot Erik, his friend and lover, and cringed at the disappointment in his friend's eyes. So he provided the best distraction he could find.
"If you know you can do it, it's hardly a challenge. Come on – let me show you something."
With that he had guided Erik a little closer to the stark white satellite dish, sticking out between trees quite a distance away, somehow misplaced in this otherwise so peaceful landscape.
When the telepath finally accessed Erik's memories, he was so relieved to see the brightness of his mind that he couldn't keep himself from crying a single tear. There were many of them, the brightest and happiest being one of Erik's mother, which he choose to help Erik focus. But between the many blindingly bright memories of his much too short time before Shaw, there were a few memories of Charles as well. And Erik felt strongly about them. The day they met came with a sudden relief of not being alone anymore, their shared laughter during their recruiting trip and their frequent chess sessions with the relief of finally having someone to call a friend, their first ever so hesitant kiss with the sudden rush of heated passion and the mornings waking up next to Charles came with feeling nothing but love in its purest sense.
It took Charles all the self-control he'd ever possessed not to cry from happiness then or kiss Erik right there in the middle of his yard in broad daylight, where everyone could see.
Oh, Erik.
"There's so much more to you than you know," he heard himself saying, after explaining what he'd done, voice heavy with unshed tears. "Not just pain and anger. There's good in you too. I've felt it."
The overwhelming happiness he felt and the pure delight made him forgot all the anger and madness he'd felt before. None of it mattered.
Maybe – no – most definitely, he'd hurt him in the future. But Charles couldn't give up on Erik, when he was capable of feeling love like this. How could he?
How could he deny a man the chance to be saved and find back to his true – maybe better – self? How could he ever deny Erik the friendship and trust he deserved and so desperately needed?
How could he not accept and return this love that had blossomed in such a short time but was deeper than anything they had ever felt before?
The answer was the easiest, he'd ever given – he couldn't.
And it was as much for Erik's sake, as it was for his own.
Sometimes Charles wondered if Erik ever stopped drowning. Even with all the successes, all the laughter, all the happiness and love, Erik had been surrounded these past weeks, even with all the kindness he'd faced and people he'd come to like, he still saw nothing but the bad things. Or at least he only paid attention to those.
All he saw was discrimination, violence and pain. The pain Shaw inflicted on him, scarring him too deeply to ever feel whole again.
And for all the confidence, all the trust, all the hope for his friend, the telepath had built so carefully, the sheer difference in their views made it impossible to believe they could last.
He wondered, not for the first time, how two people so different could ever feel so right together.
Where Erik saw only bad, Charles saw good, where Erik felt only despair, Charles had hope and where Erik saw nothing but hate, Charles felt only love.
Charles knew exactly how Erik had become the man he was today. He knew of all the immeasurably cruel thing Shaw had done to him, how he ruined him.
Yet Charles saw the man Erik still could be, experienced the love, then man was capable of giving. And yet Erik had gone with him
That meant something didn't it?
Charles wasn't trying to fool himself, though. He knew Erik wanted nothing more than to kill Shaw. And it was something he couldn't accept and had to stop at all cost. Killing was the one thing, he couldn't let his friend do. It would destroy him.
"Peace was never an option."
And not for the first time, Charlesfinds himself thinking that if the cause of their inevitable pain wouldn't be Erik's very nature, it would most likely be their disagreeing ideals and aims. With this another unwelcoming thought, he'd tried to ignore so far, comes up and it affects him more than any dreadful thought on this matter had before:
He wouldn't be the only one who'd get hurt.
As the jet went down, Charles felt a sudden rush of panic when he flew forward. He tried to grasp something, anything to keep himself steady when the jet flipped. His breath hitched when he grabbed nothing but air and for a moment he actually thought 'shit, this is it, 'only to suddenly feel Erik falling on top of him, securing them both to the jet's ceiling with his powers.
Despite the still dangerous crash and despite all of them screaming bloody murder, some part of him suddenly felt unreasonably safe and secure.
Erik had him, was protecting him and if he could trust anyone with his life, it was Erik.
He had never felt safer than he had with him and never had he put more trust in a person. And the very thought of Erik ever hurting him actually sounded ridiculous to him a that point, even though he was absolutely und irrevocable certain that it would happen.
But one last time, he allowed himself to have hope – for him, for Erik, for the world - only to have it shattered to pieces mere moments later.
When Erik finally puts on the helmet, he knows that this is it -the inevitable moment of betrayal, he'll never fully recover from.
All the safety and trust he's felt so strongly only minutes before leaves him at once, leaving behind only agony and desperation, maybe dread.
And as he feels the coin forcing its way through his - Shaw's - brain, while screaming his lungs out, it feels like nothing compared the emptiness that Erik's absence in his mind left behind. As he feels the coin slowly leaving his – no, Shaw's - battered skull, it's hardly a twinge in the face of what Charles knows is about to happen.
So when Charles is hit by the bitter taste of betrayal, the searing force of rage, the cold stab of rejection and the blinding pain of a single bullet piercing his back and shattering his spine, he can't say he's surprised.
When he watches Erik - his best friend, his lover, his partner - leave along with his beloved sister, he can't say it's unexpected.
But that doesn't keep his heart from breaking.
The End.
A/N: First I really liked the ending, no I kinda hate it. Story of my life, lol. The changes to present tense in the last scene was done on purpose btw. Let me know what you think. Whether it's criticism (which I'm guessing it will be) or praise (which I'm hoping for but might not get). Any form of comment is welcome, as long as it isn't flaming ;)