This is an AU based on the X-Men First Class movie on request for Rikkamaru where Charles and Erik meet within the concentration camps, and both suffer from Schmidt's experiments, before meeting again years later...
Disclaimer - all characters belong to Marvel and associates, I'm just borrowing them for a while here...
Chapter 1 – Lost & Found
Present (Erik has finally come face to face with his nemesis aboard the Caspartina)
"Little Erik Lehnsherr," Schmidt greets with a smile on his face. The blond woman by his side however frowns, and Erik stops as he feels something brush against his mind.
"He's here to kill you," she frowns, and then her presence is a weight in his mind, bearing him down to the deck. Telepath - she's a telepath just like –
He freezes the thought, but feels her sudden interest, but he has learned a few tricks of his own. Mental laughter fills his mind, and she grins and falters recoiling as he deliberately brings up his most pain filled memories, mostly of Schmidt's manic face as he enacted his torture.
Snap.
Emma is caught by Shaw's strong grip as she's thrown out of Lehnsherr's mind. How is that even possible?
The knife flies from the metal manipulator's palm, and is intercepted by the telepath with startling speed as she shifts to a glittering diamond like form, suddenly blinding to look upon, and sends him flying overboard.
Emma turns round as the foghorns announce the arrival of the coastguard, and frowns as she picks up on another presence. "They have a telepath," she realises, and a look which she can't quite decipher crosses Schmidt's face. He looks back towards the water where Lehnsherr has fallen, and then there's an ominous groan of straining metal as the ship's anchor rises in the air. She gapes in astonishment, and then she's running for her life as Schmidt grabs her arm, the ship tearing itself apart around them.
"Wait," Charles's commands with a sharp wince stopping dead on the gangway, two fingers pressed against his temples in a familiar enough gesture. "There's someone in the water," he exhales, leaving the others to catch up as he races for the deck.
Schmidt is getting away. No he is not escaping, not now. Erik's spent too long carefully tracking him. There may never be another opportunity – he barely registers as the water surrounds him locked with focused determination on the metallic craft on the edges of his vision.
You can't you'll drown. Let it go...I know what this means to you, but you're going to die. Please Erik calm your mind.
His mind has snapped, he's imaging things now. That voice in his mind, yet he can't fight it as he's dragged away from his life's goal, his body leaden to his commands. As soon as they break the surface of the water he takes a deep gulp of air, and tears free from the arms holding him. "No get off me," he gasps about to ask just who the hell the man thinks he is, and instead finds himself staring.
"I thought I was alone," he mumbles dazedly, and his companion gives a manic grin. "You're not alone. Erik, you're not alone."
It cannot be.
It cannot not be.
Only one person has such luminescent blue eyes. A telepath he met in another world, another life, so long ago. He was but a boy then, and Erik hadn't been much older. He almost seemed a dream, crafted by his fraying grief stricken mind in order to save what remained of his sanity.
There's a metal bracelet on the man's wrist composed of a patchwork of pilfered silver and alloys - its calling to Erik like a siren. He only ever crafted one such piece as a gift for the only one he would ever call friend. He ignores the sharp gasp, calling the metal towards him, and enfolds that glittering wrist tightly. The metal is warm, and thrumming with a fast beating pulse.
He's alive, he's real, he's here.
"Charles," he breathes. The younger man jerks back, alarm flaring in his features, "Who are you?" He demands skittishly, and Erik exhales carefully, is it possible the telepath doesn't know? Hasn't recognised him? But no, there's something – some glittering awareness in those dazzling eyes.
You know me Charles, he projects strongly, and feels the tentative questing brush against his mental shield. He drops it, opening his mind to the younger man, welcoming him in.
"Erik," he exhales, "You're real." He laughs softly at that, and slowly reaches out to brush that pale face, just to touch him once more. "Yes maus," he answers carefully, so carefully as though he's going to scare him away.
The younger man's eyes close and his face scrunches up in pain, "It's not true, I made you up." Erik laughs, and ensnares him in his arms. "I thought so too, you were too perfect," show me, he entreats impatiently, show me everything. Charles swallows, breathing raggedly against his shoulder, fingers knotting against his wetsuit.
I'm here Charles, look open your eyes, Erik commands softly, Look at me.
Their eyes catch, and hold measuring the long passing of years apart.
A flurry of images pass by in a blur, a hazy chorus of events, memories, places, an exchange of dazzling speed too fast, too much to process in such little time; a blossoming echoing pathway resonating between them.
It feels like coming home, or rather what Erik imagines it feels like. The scorching heat of Summer fills his heart, after Winter's cold pause; for so long he's kept tight necessary rein on his emotions, now he's overwhelmed as the icy walls round his heart shatter. Emotions flood him foremost: joy, that Charles is real, no imagined figment of his mind, and with that realisation a wave of conflicting complexity of love so powerful Erik's rendered speechless.
He's never believed in fairytales but to touch minds with a telepath like Charles is to know him deeply and instantly. They have shared more than many people over a lifetime, and a bond forged in harsh circumstance flares to life once more as Erik perceives that the boy he knew then, and this young man are one and the same.
Erik pulls him desperately closer as a sharp crippling fear fills his lungs because if Schmidt ever found out what Charles could truly do…
As his mind shifts to coiled alertness Charles stirs, lifting his head from Erik's shoulder. I've got you, he projects steadily without breaking his gaze from the approaching vessel. The younger man catches his wrist, "No Erik, they are - allies." The metal manipulator tightens his grip looking down at him, "Charles what is going on?"
"The CIA know."
"CIA?" Erik responds incredulously, releasing the younger man who takes a moment to find his balance in the choppy waves before facing him. "You don't have to come, I'll tell them you got away," Charles responds, and then gasps as his wrist is captured and encircled by Erik's hand. The metal manipulator's eyes are dark, "Charles this isn't a game, you can't get involved." The younger man shakes his head defiantly, "I already am - they came to me."
"What?" Erik asks mind spinning at the implications. Just what did they want with Charles? Did they have some way of finding people like themselves?
Agent Moira McTaggart saw some pretty 'fantastical' abilities, and sought out the advice of one expert in genetics.
"You must have quite a reputation," Erik notes carefully, and Charles smirks, "Top of my field."
"I would expect no less," Erik grins back. Charles flushes before looking behind him. "Are you ready?" He asks, and Erik sends a pulse of energy through his wrist in confirmation, "I can see you're only going to get yourself into trouble if I don't. I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Fifteen Years Earlier
CHARLES! CHARLES!
He woke with a start, heart pounding in his chest, uncertain for several moments whether he was still dreaming.
CHARLES! CHARLES!
Raven. She was terrified. Charles! They're here! They've come to take me away!
Shh, I'm here, he projected back a strong wave of reassurance, hoping it would calm her irrational fear. No one knows you are here so how can they come to get you?
I don't know…but why else would they be sneaking around?
Who?
The men in the kitchen…
Men in the kitchen…sneaking…up to no good.
Raven where are you?
I woke up and was hungry, and you said I could…
It's alright, I'm coming, stay there. Can I borrow your eyes?
Raven's control over her shapeshifting vanishes when she's emotional, he helps to steady her helping her calm. He can feel the intruders now, their unfamiliar minds brushing up against his own. He gasps, catching himself against the stair banister. Their minds are hard, angry and tainted by the familiar blur of alcohol. An effect he's come to recognise more and more in his mother's mind, since his father has been called to London working on some government project or other vital to the war effort against Germany.
Edgar's mind is full of sharp suspicious angles and edges, he's a tall scrawny looking man, and the most sober of the lot. Oliver's thoughts are sluggish, like wading through something sticky, and unpleasant. Toby…Toby is right in front of him, staring down with an unpleasant grin on his face.
With a cry of surprise, Charles pulls out of Raven's mind, and drops the wooden club. There's a loud crash as a near vase hovers in the air, before dropping with a shattering crash to the ground. "What the…" Toby's eyes widen in surprise, before his hands move to Charles. "That was you…wasn't it?"
Charles swallows, attempting to back away his back hitting the wall, and Toby's hand fixes in his collar. "Bloody hell – what did you knock over?" Edgar hisses.
"How come you're always assuming I did something? It wasn't me! The kid did it!"
"Kid?" Edgar frowns, "Oh hell Toby-what have you done?"
"What are you doing here? You're trespassing," Charles demands, summoning his courage. "Listen kid – you'll forget we were ever here," Toby threatens yet its ruined as he attempts to fall over. Edgar frowns, "We have to go. You'll have woken the whole house with that racket. Knock the kid out and-"
Oliver, left alone in the kitchen gives a startled cry. "What the-" Edgar's turning back and – Raven- "No!" Charles yells, tackling the taller man from behind. Startled by the unexpected attack, Edgar falls to the floor. Charles! Raven cries out, and he meets her gaze, where she's hanging onto the underside of the table. Raven – stay there!
"You little-" Toby growls, and Charles doesn't have time to do anything as something explodes in front of his vision.
She barely stifles a scream as Charles crumples to the ground, she can't move, or tear her gaze from his body. What if he doesn't wake up?
"You idiot we could have probably ransomed him…and now you've probably killed him," Edgar grumbles. "He's just a kid…I didn't sign up for this," Oliver murmurs.
Through a haze of pain the world slowly comes back into focus for Charles, but he can't seem to focus properly. "Hey look he's awake," a heavy hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump. What Charles doesn't see is the plates that hover in the air before landing with a shattering crash upon the ground.
"What the hell?" Oliver gasps. "I told you-the kid is possessed," Toby announces excitedly.
Charles, Raven whimpers.
Stay there don't move, he instructs firmly resolutely not looking at her. There was something about this man that reeked a warning he didn't want him anywhere near his sister.
A focused intent fills Edgar's features, "Oh Gods I thought he was joking, but its true…there are people who can…" A cunning smile fills the man's eyes as he steps forwards, and Charles nervously backs into the kitchen shelf. "I bet they don't even know do they?" The man smiles a predatory smile of teeth. "If you come with me now – no one else has to get hurt, you hear me kid?"
Charles no, don't listen to him.
Raven he means it – I can see it in his thoughts if I don't he could come back and hurt you, mother, and the others…I'll figure a way out of this.
You think no one is going to notice you're gone?
Mother hardly sees us anyway…and I won't be long.
But Charles-
Raven if it comes to that – you need to mimic me – like we practised, at least for a little while ok?
No – Charles, I can't let you just go –
Shh, sleep Raven, it will be ok, I'll be back before you know it…
Charles really only intended to see what the men were up to, and then find some way to return home, after fudging their memories of him. He was sure he could do it, he had managed to do it once before with mother convincing her of Raven, though that had taken a lot of work, and he felt strangely drained at the moment. What had that been with the plates? He had never been able to do anything like that before…another aspect of his telepathy or something else entirely?
He doesn't quite remember falling asleep, or what has happened, but to his dismay, when he wakens he has no idea where he is other than that he is on a boat somewhere. His arms are still bound, and Edgar is nowhere to be seen. He glances at the man who must be the strange captain for this crossing, and picks out the conversation in his mind. It seemed Edgar had been unhappy with the arrangement but the captain indifferent he would take the boy, and deliver him to Schmidt who would then arrange payment if he was happy with the deal.
Charles tries to direct the captain's mind, to turn the ship around, but is met with a wall of current's not right, the weather is about to turn, and decides against it. Wherever they are going to land hopefully it won't be too far down the coast, miserably he closes his eyes against the sickness in his head, and touches his head tentatively. Had Edgar knocked him out? Most likely it seemed he hadn't been one for taking unnecessary risks.
When Charles wakens again, it's to someone shaking him. Several uniformed men surround them, and there's an air of boredom leaking from a dangerous looking man of authority, holding the captain's gaze. He speaks in a strange tongue, yet his meaning comes across clear to Charles. "You didn't even get a demonstration? What are you thinking? How foolish can you be! For all you know you could have been followed here. This is why you do not get to meet with him."
"I was not followed," the captain remarks certainly, and as soon as he says it Charles has a sharp sinking feeling, as the lead soldier's eyes seem to glitter. "Yes, I know, because I always take care of things…and you my friend have become something to take care of."
Charles gasps as the Captain collapses, and in reaction the entire tent strains against its moorings, boxes lift from their placings – his heart races as the leader looks him over. "Well, well…looks like you are gifted after all," the soldier states in perfectly accentuated English. Charles can't tear his gaze from the captain's body on the floor, from where a neat circular wound bleeds from his skull. "You…killed him," he notes faintly.
"But of course, he was of no further purpose. You should remember that boy," the soldier remarks coolly.
Charles however felt it just as strongly as if he had been the captain. The impact of that bullet against his own skull - only the swiftness of it, kept him on his feet. If it had been any slower he's certain he would have passed out from the pain. As it is, he can't keep himself from throwing up, all over the leader's shoes. Serves him right, he considers faintly as the world spins to a haze of murky grey.
Updated 5th June 12.
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