Smoke permeated the air. The wreckage on the island burned under the hot sun. It was a cloudless day with a gentle wind that caressed the mutants gathered on the beach, standing amongst the remains. Some were injured. Some wore yellow. Erik saw none of this. He cared only for their safety.
Out to sea, not so far as to be invisible but close enough to be bigger than black dots, dozens of naval ships hovered on the water, poised to attack not each other, but the Cuban island, united in their fear of the unknown. Their canons smoked from firing.
Many missiles hovered in the air, floating just above the mutants on the island; the targets. Erik stood closer to shore than the rest. He held an arm outstretched towards the missiles as if to catch them in his palm. His every limb felt pricked with pins and needles as power surged through him.
He had saved them. He would live to see another day – one where mutants were not hated or hunted. A day so unlike today.
He rotated his hand and the weapons slowly turned around to face their launchers.
Any joy at being spared an explosive death fled the scene as Charles, Erik's greatest and perhaps only friend, realized what was happening. "Erik, you said yourself, we're the better men. This is the time to prove it."
Erik did not waver.
Anxiety and indecisiveness started to roll off Charles in waves. "There are thousands of men on those ships! Good, honest, innocent men! They're just following orders."
Erik's demeanor changed completely. It wasn't when he put the helmet on. It wasn't when he killed Shaw. This was the defining moment. With his vengeance fulfilled, Erik had a choice. For once in his life, he could decide for himself what he wanted to do.
His eyes glazed over. Men just following orders. They were no better than the men giving them. Why did they deserve to live any more than the others? The ones pulling the strings? They all deserved to die. For what they did to him. For what they would continue to do to others.
He would make the right choice. He had to stop the destruction of mutant-kind. His kind. There were two sides to this world: human and mutant. He belonged with his fellow mutants; his brothers and sisters in this rebellion. He would not let others suffer what he had.
He would make the right choice. For himself and for everyone around him. Including Charles.
"I've been at the mercy of men just following orders," he said quietly. He turned to look Charles in the eye – to let him see the truth in his own. "Never again." Without hesitation, he flung the missiles toward the ships with a flick of his hand. He could feel the metal of each weapon tingling at his fingertips and he hurled them forward, lost in his concentration.
This would be a sign for all the humans out there. They could not repress evolution. Mutants were the future. They should not fear humans. The humans will fear them.
Let this be the spark that ignited the war.
"Erik, release them!" Charles sounded panicked and angry.
Erik was angrier. He focused on the vibrating metal of the helmet that fit his head too perfectly and he ignored his friend to the best of his ability. He was saving them all. If only Charles could see that.
The missiles shot toward the boats.
Erik felt no remorse.
"NO!"
Wha-? A force rammed into his side and his concentration snapped. He fell like the missiles and he slammed into the sand, his head bouncing off the ground. It rang painfully and he thought of removing the blasted helmet. Then he registered that the thing that had tackled him was Charles and he was scrambling for that very helmet.
Perhaps he'd underestimated Charles' anger.
Erik's instincts kicked in and he began pushing and shoving and he could sense the missiles nearing the water, away from the boats. Fury began to pump through his veins as a few nukes exploded. Wasted. Those "innocent men" Charles seemed so fond of were about to kill them all. He was saving them. Charles should be grateful!
Somehow, the telepath ended up on top and he reached for the helmet, gloved fingers brushing the metal. Erik grunted and struggled to roll over. "I don't want to hurt you! Don't make me." He managed to get onto his side and snap his elbow back. Bone cracked against cartilage as Charles rocked backward, grimacing at the pain in his nose that Erik didn't need telepathy to feel an echo of.
He scrambled to his feet. Charles would be fine. A broken nose could easily be fixed, he told himself. Even if a heart couldn't.
Various metal belts approached and Erik recognized them as the other mutants preparing to intervene. It seemed that attacking their "leader" had woken something in them to get them to move.
Erik would have none of it.
He threw his arm out towards them. Alex, Sean, and Hank were yanked backward by the metal on their bodies. Raven froze in place. Erik sensed that she was torn and would not interrupt for the time being.
A hand grabbed at his legs and he came tumbling down, forced to roll around in the hot sand like lovesick teenagers.
If only.
Blood dripped down the side of Charles' face and Erik felt something twitch in his gut but he ignored it. Those missiles were going to give the humans the message they needed: mutants were not to be poor and oppressed members of society. They were to be respected and loved. He struggled to keep Charles at arm's length from the helmet and threw his arm out again, this time towards the ocean.
He pulled the metal upward, grunting with the extra effort and catching the missiles before they crashed into the water. The tendons in his arm tensed as he forced them back up in an arc toward the ships. Charles reached for the helmet and slid his fingers under the edge.
"Erik, stop!" He shouted, face red from exertion.
God damn it, Charles! Erik tore his attention from the nukes and brought his fist down without thought. Charles cried out as his cheek hit the sand. The sound tore something through Erik, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. The surprise at such a feeling made him lose control. A couple more missiles tumbled uselessly to the water and some imploded.
Frustration bubbled up inside. This was all a distraction. It would do nothing to help their cause! Nothing! Charles was writhing in pain and shock and Erik forced himself to stand. He forced his legs to stop shaking and he forced himself to step away from his most powerful ally.
He couldn't stand to look at what he'd done.
He felt the familiar tug at his tendons and lifted his arm and the rest of the missiles. His heart was beating slightly faster than necessary and he wondered why. The fight with Charles? Possibly. It couldn't be that he was about to take thousands of lives. He'd killed before. This was no different. This was for the right reason and that was all that mattered. These men were about to declare war on each other anyway. Erik felt no guilt.
Not for this.
Without distractions, Erik pulled his muscles taut and shoved the nukes further, faster. Most of the deaths would be quick. Charles should be able to appreciate that. Everything metal within hundreds of meters began to vibrate. His range was bigger than he'd ever known it could be. He sensed the hundreds of missiles, the boats, the trinkets like watches, pins, and knobs, the belts on his fellow mutants, the torn radio from the wreckage of the blackbird, the gun Moira was pulling out.
But she wouldn't-
BANG!
Pure instinct saved him as his powers deflected the bullet with ease. It lodged into the ground to his left with a spray of sand. He whirled to face the one human on this island. She didn't deserve to be here. She never did. She might accept mutants but she would never be one of them. She did not need to die, but she needed to see the truth. Mutants were the next step in human evolution. It was only a matter of time before the humans became extinct due to inferiority in their environment. He could not be stopped.
It was clear that she thought the same of herself. She held her gun aimed at him with determination and serenity written all over her face. Charles would be proud. Erik's concentration was literally shot and he felt the missiles flipping once again towards empty water.
Priorities, priorities.
She fired again and again, approaching with each BANG!
He knew that she knew these bullets were made of metal. He knew she was just trying to distract him. He could feel how many bullets she had left. Not enough to be of any trouble. He swiped them away. Left. Right. Left. Right. Lef-
CRACK!
The bullet hit something; something that wasn't metal. It sounded close. The only thing close behind him not made of metal was-
No.
He didn't want to look. Time froze for a split second and horror began to creep around the edges of his heart. A cry of pain so familiar and so damn British tore his eardrums apart. Hand still elevated, frozen in fear, Erik turned, fear displayed so clearly in his eyes. His arm dropped as Charles did, crashing to the sand and clutching at his back. Charles' face was scrunched in pain as he screamed.
No matter what happened next, this moment would haunt Erik forever.
Charles, who had thrown himself into the water to save Erik with barely any hesitation. Charles, who had taught Erik to feel serenity. Charles, who always maintained his annoying optimism and faith in the one person it was most misplaced.
Moira's bullet, Erik's fault, Charles' blood, leaking from his back.
Nothing else registered. Nothing else mattered.
Charles was the single best thing to ever happen to him and Erik fucking shot him in the back.
Panic overwhelmed him, overwhelmed everything, and he didn't register running and falling to his knees at Charles' side. Charles, who was still screaming and tensing from pain. Erik sensed the bullet still lodged inside and he yanked it out as fast as he could.
His heart hadn't pounded this hard in a very long time.
The bullet escaped easily into his hand and he almost breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he saw it.
He should have felt it, but all he could feel was terror and guilt and horror and anguish as he watched the best friend he had ever had, try to reel in the projections of his own agony. Always the selfless bastard.
Damn you, Charles!
But Erik couldn't bring himself to mean it.
The bullet was a crumpled mess. It had hit bone. What had Erik done? What had he shattered in the one person who singlehandedly turned his world upside down?
You're not alone.
Distantly, he felt the missiles imploding one after another. The humans would live.
Erik didn't care.
With barely suppressed tears, he pocketed the bullet and gathered Charles in his arms as if that could make his friend's pain and his own guilt magically go away.
Moira ran closer. It was obvious that the gravity of the situation had yet to hit her. She was too shocked. She simply stood there, flabbergasted.
Erik's gut was twisted so tightly that he felt like throwing up. With each jostle, Charles cried out, nearly screaming. Each cry of pain stabbed Erik in the heart with a serrated knife. Those tears were becoming harder and harder to hold back. He pulled Charles closer, one hand beneath his head and the other just below his ribs as Charles lay in his lap. There was no way he could sit up like this. Charles was almost as pale as the sand beneath Erik's knees. Vibrant blue eyes found his and Erik found words spilling out of his mouth.
"I'm so sorry." If possible, his range expanded tenfold. The others were approaching again. They would crowd around Charles, helpless, useless. "I said BACK UP!" He yelled, glaring at them until they paused, waiting to be flung back.
They weren't.
Erik was breathing hard and Charles had stopped screaming and Erik was so mad he felt like he could make every piece of metal within ten miles rip itself apart. Rage burned in his core, all traces of serenity gone. He looked up, eyes puffy and face red.
Charles struggled to breathe.
Erik was glaring bloody murder. Moira was his victim. "You." Her bullet. It should be her fault. Her fault! "You did this." He stretched one arm towards her. The tips of his fingers tingled again as he felt the dog tags brush against the skin of her neck before tightening around the throat. He squeezed as hard as he could, a barely contained fury overtaking everything. He was getting tunnel vision.
She would pay for what she did to Charles. He was hurt and Erik didn't know how badly and if Moira hadn't been an absolute idiot, then he never would have hit Charles-
He sucked in a breath. She would be the first human to witness the true power of mutants. She would not be the last.
She fell to her knees before them and choked. It was then that the reality hit her. He could see in her eyes real fear – of death, of guilt, of him. Erik relished that feeling; used it to his advantage. This is all her fault-
"Please," came a weak voice beneath him.
Erik's concentration dipped. Of course Charles would want Moira to live. Sweet, innocent, naïve Charles. He didn't understand.
"She didn't do this, Erik." But- "You did."
Hurt and guilt slammed into him on all sides and he lost all breath. He looked down at Charles, awake and in pain and staring at him with those blue eyes that held the secrets of the universe. Moira was blocked by Erik's helmet and its refusal to give him peripheral vision. Erik decided that Charles was his first concern.
Priorities, priorities.
Both of their arms were outstretched. One hovered above the other. Erik lowered his, staring at the man that had become his brother in so little time.
Moira gasped for breath in the background, but he couldn't care less.
He rested his hand on Charles' side, breathing ragged as he examined his face. Charles was exhibiting a great deal of restraint by not shrieking and squirming in pain. Instead, he lay there, eyeing Erik accusingly as blood soaked the German's knees.
Erik licked his lips. He couldn't lose Charles. Please, please, please. Charles couldn't die. Not after everything. Of every person on this planet, Charles was the one who least deserved to die. "Us turning on each other… it's what they want," he whispered. All that arguing and bickering over mutant politics… it seemed petty now. But no matter how insignificant it seemed, Erik could not let his point go. "I tried to warn you, Charles." He did. He really, really did. But Charles was stubborn and so disgustingly optimistic that Erik had not pushed as much as he could have – should have. Now here they were.
Charles was watching him with an expression that Erik couldn't place. Furrowed brows. Lips parted. Wavering gaze. Perhaps he was just in pain. It couldn't be repulsion.
Erik knew that this was one of those few moments in life where you had to be completely, totally honest. So he laid everything out there. "I want you by my side," he said softly. Something akin to longing blossomed in his heart and he realized he was shaking; with what, Erik had no idea. "We're brothers, you and I."
He never did think about what would happen after Shaw. But now that Shaw was dead, Erik found his mind filling with possibilities. All of them included Charles. Despite all odds, Charles Xavier had become the one person Erik cared about most in the entire world and it just so happened that he may have destroyed their friendship, so precious to him, in an attempt at saving all of their lives.
"All of us, together; protecting each other." Mutants needed to stick together. Especially the two of them. Side by side, they would be an unstoppable force that could achieve any goal. The perfect team. "We want the same thing." Erik wanted a future with Charles. It was as simple as that.
Just not to Charles.
The telepath huffed in a pathetic attempt at a laugh and tried to smile. He failed. "My friend…" He gazed into Erik's eyes and Erik knew what was coming but he gripped Charles tighter, refusing to let himself come undone. "I'm sorry. But we do not."
Erik's world shattered. The pieces clattered to the ground around him in a labyrinth of glass and shards that would stab him as he tried to leave. There was nothing left except a raw, beating heart exposed to the world.
Charles' apology was heartfelt and true and it was conveyed so clearly in those oceanic eyes. Their gazes were locked in an intense battle for dominance. But Charles didn't want to win. He'd accepted his fate as the loser.
Erik had to accept his fate as the winner, no matter how much it felt like a loss.
They were destined for different paths – paths that were meant to cross, but never intertwine. Where Erik was pessimism and reality, Charles was optimism and hope. Erik wanted to exterminate the humans. Charles wanted to assimilate with them. Erik wanted mutant supremacy. Charles wanted mutant equality.
It would have never worked.
Lying in the burning sand, blood dripping through uniforms and hearts beating out of sync, Erik realized that what they had… could never truly be.
He had to let them go.
With a heart as heavy as stone, Erik looked up, blinking away the tears. He beckoned Moira closer with a sense of finality akin to a knife dropping from a guillotine. Never again would he and Charles be friends; brothers. Never again would they play chess or argue about politics or recruit mutants with good humour and the occasional drink.
He never should have gotten this close.
It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. Nothing was worth the hurt that he was feeling right now. Nothing. Not even Charles.
As Moira fell to her knees before them, Erik wordlessly handed her Charles, who was struggling to breathe without moving. He grunted as he was shuffled into Moira's capable hands. Erik winced. His fault. All his fault.
It must be better this way. He wondered if they could have parted at all, had they been on good terms. Yes, this was the only way. It had to be.
He pushed himself to his feet and planted them into the ground, forcing his knees not to wobble. Moira's heartfelt apologies and Charles' empty reassurances had to be pushed to background noise.
Of course Charles would say it was alright. The goddamn angel that he was.
Erik took a couple steps away, trying to remember how to walk without thinking about Charles. He faced the others, back straight, and something occurred to him.
Charles' pain wasn't his fault. It was the fault of the humans. They did not deserve Charles' love or faith. They would betray him – over and over until it sank through his stubborn skull that mutants would never be accepted.
This was their fault.
He gestured to Charles, still breathing raggedly and grunting in pain, but Erik didn't dare look back. "Their society won't accept us," he said with a steady voice. Those humans would not be here forever. They would die out for what they'd done and what they would continue to do. Erik would make sure of it. "We form our own." Mutants versus humans. That was how it had to be.
He lowered his hand, then changed his mind and raised it again, gesturing angrily at the boats behind him. "The humans have played their hand," he spat, "now we get ready to play ours." His voice was calm and deadly as he clenched his fists at his sides.
Peace was never an option.
But this was. "Now who's with me?"
For a few, agonizing seconds, no one moved. As Charles' breathing remained laboured and Moira watched helplessly, the mutants looked at each other uncertainly. Erik held his breath. If he was alone, if they all thought like Charles, then mutant-kind was surely doomed.
He looked at Raven. She was staring at him with something like a cross between determination and indecision. Whatever she chose, she wasn't going to go back. Whatever she chose, Erik could not, would not, blame her. He held an arm towards her, beckoning her to join him. They agreed where he and Charles did not. They both argued with Charles the same way. She believed in what Erik had been saying all along. She had suffered the oppression of the humans and she knew what it was like to be excluded, hated, because she was different and better. She, of all people, understood his point of view.
"No more hiding," he whispered. His words were carried by a breeze and they caressed her in the intimate way he knew she craved.
As if pulled by an invisible tether, Raven hobbled forward. Her lips parted as if to say that she was with him, but then she looked to Charles, bleeding and writhing on the ground, and Erik had no idea where she would go. She looked at him again, calculating, comparing, choosing. She tilted her chin higher and walked past him to her brother.
Erik lowered his arm and turned to watch. No, he did not blame her in the slightest.
She knelt by Charles' side and took his hand. She had chosen.
As had Charles. "You…" He struggled to exhale words that Erik assumed would be full of gratitude. "You should go with him." What? "… It's what you want."
God damn it, Charles! He was pushing her away because he had seen exactly what Erik had: Raven wanted to leave with him. She did not agree with Charles and she never would. She was only staying because she loved her brother.
It was because Charles loved her more that he was willing to let her go.
Erik felt his guilt curl around his insides and squeeze and twist and tie. Charles was too good for what had happened to him. As much as Erik insulted him for his innocence and his naivety, he never wanted this for his friend. Innocence was weakness and pain made you stronger, but Erik never wanted to see that expression on Charles' face ever again. With any luck, Erik would never see Charles again at all.
Raven knew this. "You promised me you would never read my mind." She brushed the sweat matted hair from her brother's face, loving and affectionate in a way only a sister could. She had to stay. Erik was almost begging her to at this point.
Charles closed his eyes. "I know," he breathed shakily. He looked up at her now, quivering from pain. "I promised you a great many things, I'm afraid."
That bastard. Charles hadn't read her mind. He didn't need to. No one did. It was written all over her face. Yet he was letting her believe that he had broken a promise to her. He was trying to convince her to leave. Oh Charles.
Raven looked down and Erik knew she didn't believe him. Maybe she would stay after all.
Charles grabbed her other hand. "I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to her gloved fingers and then looked away. He was giving her an excuse because he knew that Raven, no matter how much she loved him, would not be happy with him. And Raven was taking it.
She pressed a good-bye kiss to his pale forehead and looked up to face Moira. "Take care of him." Erik held his hand out to her again and Raven took it, pulling herself to her feet. She didn't let go. Erik didn't want her to.
With Raven's solidified membership, the other three mutants that had worked with Shaw made their way over. Erik only knew the name of Angel, but that could be easily remedied. They all joined hands in a sign of strength against those that tried to suppress them. Together, they would start a revolution.
"And Beast!" Raven shouted across the beach. The mutants in yellow had yet to move. They would stay with Charles then. Good. Charles needed them. "Never forget. Mutant… and proud."
Erik did not give himself the luxury of looking at Charles one last time. His heart did not need to break again. He could already feel the titanium walls rebuilding themselves around it, piece by piece. Before it was sealed off forever, Erik thought, please let him live. His default mask slid into place with an almost audible click.
He looked to the teleporter with red skin and nodded. It was better this way. It had to be.
In a cloud of red and black smoke, Erik and Charles were ripped apart.
A/N. Hello! So this was just me suddenly getting attacked (literally out of the blue) by feels from these two. I became obsessed with everything Charles and Erik with the snap of a finger. I don't even know why, since I haven't seen this movie in like two years. Regardless, this is what came out of it. Feels. So. Many. Feels. I also wanted to try and delve a bit deeper into Erik's emotions and motivations because I understand why he does the things he does, so I just wanted to see if I could justify them in his mind. Magneto is an infinitely intricate character that never ceases to fascinate me.
All that aside, I hope you enjoyed the story and if you did, please leave a review :) It would be much appreciated.
Disclaimer - I do not own the X-men or anything you recognize. All dialog was taken directly from the film and any views expressed by the characters do not necessarily reflect those of the author.
Thanks for reading! :D