Charles was wheeled in on the very definitely non-metal wheelchair. Erik refused to let himself question whether Charles preferred it that way, or whether he only consented to it because it was the only way he'd be allowed to visit. He still wondered, despite himself.
The chessboard was set up between them and Erik found himself yearning. Yearning for armchairs and the smell of leather, for a glass of scotch and debates across a wooden chessboard. It had been the beginning and it had always been doomed to fail, but still Erik yearned.
Charles played white. Attack, rather than defence. Things changed.
They played for a long time in silence, it had often been the way with their games, the conversation would start, in time, but Erik feared that this time it might not, that this time he had gone too far. This time Charles would not forgive him.
He had come to his cage, hadn't he? That had to mean something. Wheeled in on the chair Erik had put him in. It suited him, Erik decided, as strong and sedate as he now was, like the bald head suited him, instead of the floppy hair he had once been so protective of. Nostalgia, Erik knew, was a weakness, but he allowed himself this brief indulgence.
And eventually the conversation started, like it always did, with it's own natural rhythm and cadences. Erik hated it and loved it, because it reminded him of his one regret; that he had not persuaded Charles to come with him. He needed Charles by his side, that was as true now as it was then, and Erik had him, in their own twisted way because Charles would always be there, the one constant.
Erik didn't know what made him do it, to ask the question that they always ignored, "Why do you always forgive me?"
"Because I always knew you were going to leave." The truth, they both knew, was much more complex, but Erik ignored that and inclined his head and Charles continued, "I didn't need to be a telepath to work that out. After you had taken your revenge on Shaw there would be a black hole where you life's purpose used to be and so you would fill it in the only way you knew how; by taking revenge, deserved or not, on the world. That's why I begged you not to kill Shaw, because I knew where it would lead, and so I would lose you."
"You could have come with me, could have joined me."
"My friend, you know I could not."
"And you know I could never sit idly by when action needed to be taken."
"And that, Erik, is why we are as we are. Always friends, yet on opposite sides. And you are wrong, I can't forgive the things you have done, yet neither could I give up our friendship, even if we must be enemies."
"Neither could I, my friend. Neither could I."
The game was never finished. The Professor was wheeled out, and Magneto sat and planned. Stalemate.