A/N: I've written one other fic for these two when the first prequel came out. I just watched DoFP and it was a gift. It totally gave me what I wanted for these two and it was great. So here's a sort of alternate alternate universe for them because I really need them to make out.
Summary: "I missed you." Everything that isn't said when you make an attempt on your lover's life.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Characters belong to Stan Lee, Fox, and all those other people who making a lot of money off of this.
Fool, fool, fool.
It was the mantra that kept echoing in his brain throughout the entire ride on the plane. Even when they were pouring each other's souls out to each other and almost crashed into the sea, all Erik could think of was fool.
If only Charles had the clarity that he had. But his compassion blinded him. His inability to set aside logic and love.
Oh, Erik could love. He could love more deeply than most. He loved his dead mother and his best friend. He loved women who seemed to always be on the path to destruction. But that didn't mean he couldn't separate what was necessary and what was necessary to sacrifice. No matter how deeply he cared, he understand better than anyone that love always got in the way.
Ten years in a concrete prison cell, and this was the conclusion that he had to come to. It was a conclusion he had arrived at when he was in the camps, when he was pushing a coin through Sebastian Shaw's head and right before Dallas when for a moment – just a moment – he forgot himself.
There was clarity in Charles' clear blue eyes. Clarity that Erik wished he could wipe away.
Strong. Driven. Loyal.
Charles didn't need powers to see how transparent Erik was.
That had to go.
Though she was Mystique for their cause, sometimes, she couldn't help but still be Raven when she was alone with him.
She was strong, driven, and loyal.
No one could see how strong she was.
Charles never could.
A tigress.
That was the last time that they had ever seen each other and he hadn't heard from her since. He was proud. He knew she was being strong for their cause.
He knew something else that he could never voice. Not to anyone. Their cause was more important than… whatever private moments they had together.
"When will you be back?"
"I'm sure you'll carry on without me."
This was a thing they did. She never questioned it, and he was the one that always initiated it. But they never admitted what they were actually doing. It just wasn't important. There was no need to label things when they were in the middle of a war.
They always pretended like what had just happened had not in fact happened. Even when the air turned electric when they were beside each other. Erik wouldn't address it and she would never give him the satisfaction of asking.
What they were was more than partners. It was more than lovers. More than friends. They had a bond that was strengthened through blood and conviction. This was a bond that could never be broken.
They cared.
But they would never say it.
This was as close as she would ever get to asking him to stay with her. They had grown together. Not like she and Charles had grown together, but in a different way. A way that turned weakness into steel.
And steel he could use.
It had turned them hard, but in that same way, turned them hard into each other so they were one. The same. They knew how hard the world could get against their kind from personal experience. They shared experiences and sometimes they shared a bed.
But they never talked about it. Talking about it would ruin all the progress they were making. This was a war that would never be won and Erik could never afford to think like a lover. He never would. Not with anyone. But she was so dedicated to this philosophy that he couldn't help but feel the bond strengthening between them. So he would go and try to save the President of the United States. And their war would continue. And she would never leave his side.
She was so quiet that he looked over at her. She blended in with the blue night. All he could see were her bright eyes illuminating the room.
She had only spoke about her parents once. He never asked the way she never asked him to talk about his.
For some reason, he reached for her.
Raven slid right through his fingers the way she always could when she wanted. In public she wore her blonde hair and fake skin. He could count on one hand how many people had seen her the way she was with him.
Without any clothes, she had no discernible metal to drag her back to him. He only lunged when she pulled away. That was their dance. Something else he liked about her.
"Will you carry on without me when I'm gone?" he asked, his voice rasping in the dark. He couldn't see her anymore. She had never moved quieter.
"I'll do what's necessary."
He located her voice somewhere near the closet. He knew that she didn't want him to turn on the light. Any other time, he would have done it just to provoke her. He needed to make sure that she was still there. That she was still her. But he could tell that would irritate her too much and he liked the comfort of her there.
But this dance was familiar. It was safe, but familiar. There was a different dance that only seemed to happen when they were very close and alone. Though it had happened so quickly not moments ago, he relished it again. He wanted to feel the intricacies of her skin against his again.
"I would never ask that," Erik said. "I know you will. You don't need to assure me."
Maybe he should have turned on the light. Then she wouldn't be so vulnerable. She'd snap right back at him.
But somehow this felt like a very important moment. And it was. If he could pull this off, if he could save a leader who also happened to be one of them, then maybe they could finally be protected. Vulnerability was something that neither of them could afford.
But he still wanted to feel her again.
"I know you will," he whispered against her hair. "I never doubt you."
She turned around in his arms.
"I'm not going to cry on your shoulder, Erik," Raven said crossly.
"I know," he said. "You're not that girl anymore."
"Then don't make me out to be when you're under pressure."
He grinned, even though he knew she couldn't see. "You're beautiful."
Perfection.
She ought to remember. She never would have snapped at him before. And it made him press against her even harder.
Her heard her sharp intake of breath before he devoured her lips with his. There was no sweetness with them. Not really. It was all hunger and pain and conviction.
Sometimes it was honest and sometimes it was devotion. But most of the time they closed their eyes and pretended it that it wasn't.
He felt her bend her back over the dresser. There were no barriers between them. When they were together, it seemed just so easy.
But sometimes she couldn't help it. The reason he believed in her so much was because she really had changed. She had been filled with so much shame and self-loathing. Some of which he was familiar with. But those instincts weren't so easy to banish. He understood that. Sometimes in the middle of it, her hair would flash a lighter or color. Her eyes might turn blue, her skin might be softer.
He knew it was just fear and instinct on her part.
No matter how many times he told her that wasn't what he wanted. But she couldn't help it.
Now he wouldn't allow it. Not this time.
"Don't change," he said hotly as her legs wrapped around him flexibly.
Don't you dare.
Raven trembled slightly but her movements became stronger and more fearless.
"I want this to be how I remember you."
He wanted her perfect and strong.
He wanted her beautiful. Just the way she was.
He didn't mean it to sound so final. Of course they would see each other again. This wasn't his death march.
But it was the end of something. Erik had hoped it would be the end of mutant servitude. But that was naïve. She had told him as much. It was the last thing she said before he kissed her and pulled her to bed.
He didn't think he was going to die. But the sentiment was the same.
As they gripped each other, sweating and complete, this was the image of her he wanted to have when he went to Dallas.
This was how he would always think of her. Even in the end.
Fool.
They had spent hours on the plane and Erik wished he could bend his mind like Charles used to be able to. But no matter how much Charles' heart bled, no matter how many useless and extreme thoughts he heard, he still couldn't come to the same conclusion that Erik had.
And Erik knew that. It was why he kept silent for the entire flight. He could never let on what he knew he had to do. He should have realized why she wasn't in on the rescue mission. But Charles had been so foolish to tell Erik the truth.
Didn't he see what Erik saw? Didn't he understand what a liability she had become? That was all Erik let himself see. It was what flowed through his veins. It was what pumped through him like iron.
Caring for people only got in the way. And when you had to sacrifice them for the greater good, it hurt just that much more. Erik had learned these lessons and learned how to protect himself from it. He would not allow himself to be crippled by it. Not when there was so much work to be done.
Charles never should have told him. Charles never should have been so blind. And Charles never should have brought him along if he had any hope of saving his precious Raven.
Charles could see things, even without his powers. He saw the weakness the two of them had for her and he was hoping to prey on that.
Charles underestimated Erik's devotion to the cause of the mutant race.
Mystique would understand. And if she didn't, at least she would die for something worthwhile.
A martyr.
That was how he would remember her.
And he only stumbled for a moment.
.
He stopped short when he finally saw her. Almost a decade and she looked the same. He knew that would happen, though. It was in her genes. He had lines and thinning hair but she was as beautiful as ever.
Now she always would be.
Mystique was surrounded by unconscious military personnel and he almost changed his mind. Her body shook as electricity coursed through her and he wanted to hurt them for what they had been about to do to her.
What they had done to Angel and Azazel. Banshee and Emma. What they had done to countless others.
He would make it quick. She would feel no pain. He would make sure it hit the exact spot. And then no one could ever torture her again.
"Charles, make him stop."
Erik almost smiled. She valued her life as much as he valued his own.
She was going to put up a fight.
Glass shattered around her as she burst out the window with such casual grace, he couldn't help but watch. Suddenly he thought of the pentagon and the beauty of his prison collapsing all around him.
And in a second, she was gone.
.
She was limping down the street when he found her. Some of the glass must have found it in her leg or her foot when she landed. She had been stories above the ground and she still landed like a cat. It was a wonder that she could do that, but healing instantaneously was not something that her mutation allotted for.
Erik had left Charles and his pack of dogs behind.
No one knew Raven like he did. He would always find her first.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mystique was taking deep breaths and he paused for a moment. He took in her visage. She had been using these moments to prepare. He wished he could explain right now. But he knew that if he did it wouldn't make it better. It would make it worse.
"No sense and delaying the inevitable," Erik responded.
"You murdering me is inevitable?" she asked. The corner was abandoned. But it could only happen like this. Nails and teeth out. A fight to the death.
It could only ever be this way between the two of them.
"You can't say you never saw it coming," Erik said, starting to circle her. "And if anyone's to do it, it should be me."
"You say it like you don't have a choice," she said. Her yellow eyes held him there and he knew he had to do it now.
"I'm sorry." She looked startled. But he was. He was sorry it had to be her. Out of anyone, it had to be her. He had known that all along. But delaying it would only make it harder. "Come on, sweetheart."
"It's no fair fight if you use your powers," she pointed out.
"And what would you prefer?" Erik asked. "A fist fight? Bare-knuckle boxing to the death?"
"Hand to hand combat was never your style, Erik," Mystique said. "You always left the dirty work to me."
"I never asked you to do anything that you weren't already backing me one hundred percent."
She would always be his right hand woman. Even now.
She came at him without warning. He had never given much thought to her flexibility. Her foot hit him in the jaw and he had a new appreciation for everything they accomplished together. How easy she made it look.
But it was the only hit she got in on him.
"This isn't a fight," he told her. "This is mercy."
"Is that what you call it?" she asked. "You're like them. You're doing what they do. You're killing your own kind."
"So that the rest of us may survive and keep on fighting."
Uncertainty crossed her features and he took his opportunity. Lampposts wrenched from the ground and pelted towards her. She leaped into the air with all the grace of a gymnast, dodging his blows. He flung sewer grates and hubcaps at her, wishing she wouldn't make this so difficult. But if she didn't, she wouldn't be Mystique.
He wasn't trying to hurt her.
Just kill her.
She seemed to have read his mind. "You'll have to tear me apart, Erik."
You'll have to torture me.
He heard the sentiment. It was the same thing that was ingrained into him. He couldn't go out so easily.
She dodged his last blow, running up the side of a brick building and landing on her feet.
Or she would have, if she hadn't been so busy keeping an eye on her balance. Right as she landed, he flew a metal fragment that grazed her thigh.
She called out, falling against the abandoned building.
He took his chance. Red was bleeding from between her fingers as she kept them pressed to her leg. And he sent the metal beam straight for her.
She made an attempt to dodge it again, but she wasn't quick enough. It impaled her against the building, burying itself right through her shoulder and into the bricks behind her.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"You'll have to destroy me," Mystique said through gritted teach. It seemed like it was going to have to be that way.
Destruction wasn't his aim. But she was shaking from the amount of blood that was streaming from her. He flicked his hand simply and she called out again in pain as he yanked the beam from the building, dragged her along with it towards him. She slid across the pavement helplessly, streaking towards him, unable to fight, golden eyes watering.
He shouldn't have thought he would be met with less resistance. Right as she neared him, she struck her palm out towards his face and he doubled over. His eyes watered and he couldn't see. He felt another swift kick, this time to the ribs and it sent him flying.
He reached up blindly with his hand, fending her off. He heard her cry again and a thud as she hit the pavement. With a furious grunt, he heard her pull the piece of metal from her. Warm, wet blood pooled towards him.
Just as quickly she maneuvered around, twisting her legs around him so her thighs were crushing his windpipe as though she weren't wounded at all. Blood splashed his face and he dug his fingers into her skin, willing his eyes to clear. She grunted with exertion. He concentrated, trying to twist any metal inside her to distract her to no avail.
She didn't cry this time. This time her voice was full of rage as she yelled. She rolled off of him and he coughed.
When she came at him again, he was ready. He knocked her off her feet, his hands around her throat. When his vision normalized, he had her on her back. Her heels were digging into his back and her eyes were searing into him as he felt himself choke the life from her.
"You could never make it easy, could you?" he asked. "I didn't want it to be this way."
She opened her mouth and unconsciously, he lessened his grip, wanting to hear her voice.
"I don't know why it is this way at all."
Love makes you weak. Caring only makes you stumble. That was the last thing he thought when her foot came down on him and knocked him out.
.
In her stronger moments, being Mystique was easy. It had a title that made her proud and indefinable. Raven was the name that her parents gave her. It was the slave name her parents called her when they tried to kill her.
Erik called her Mystique in public. But in a way, he never really forgot it. She could be Charles' Raven, but that didn't stop her from being her own.
When she was blonde and normal with the French nurse bandaging her leg, she could be Raven for a little while. Somehow it didn't seem so final yet. People could have two names. And Magneto was only Erik's public alias.
It didn't have to be different for her.
Not yet anyway.
"I wonder if she has any family."
The nurse had been babbling in French and Raven could always keep up with foreign languages. She didn't know if that had to do with her mutation or just how much information she had been absorbing lately. Maybe it was something mutants could just do. Expand their minds in a way that a homo sapien could not.
"She does," Raven answered absentmindedly. For the first time she wasn't even thinking about the painful memories before there was Charles Xavier.
And even when someone she cared about had his hands around her throat, she could still feel his conviction thrumming through him.
He wanted to kill all of those government officials. She wanted to kill one. Somehow, they were still on the same page.
.
Erik wasn't sure if it was a dream or not. He couldn't imagine dreaming about Charles Xavier after everything that had happened. Not when his dreams morphed as easily as Raven could. Being in solitary for ten years made dreams your only companion.
This wasn't the first time he had dreamed of her.
He couldn't remember Charles having the ability to project himself into someone's dreams. Though if he could do it to their mind in waking hours, why not while they slept? The mind was more vulnerable to such intrusions.
He was chasing her. Still chasing her after all this time. His heart beat against his chest the way it always did, as though he could smell her in the air. Even between the thrumming bodies and the mindless way they gyrated against each other. The facets of strobes hit and reflected off his glasses.
He would never find her at a disco.
That was how he knew it was a dream.
But he dreamed nonetheless. She was blonde again. He could spy her through the shifting bodies but he could never quite reach her. He wasn't sure if his hands would close around her throat again or turn into a lover's caress.
And Charles' voice never left him.
Even if it wasn't her, it would be something else. It won't stop the sentinels. Just make change them into another atrocity.
So what was the point in getting her out of custody? What was the point in breaking him out of prison?
Blue eyes morphed into yellow and she smiled. Charles' voice hit him again.
That love. Of course.
Because they didn't want her tortured. Charles and his obsession with saving people.
"You took the things that meant the most to me."
The voice of the memory reverberated through him. Raven's smile vibrated and her image shattered into a million pieces on the floor.
The point was that they could work together for the solution. Wasn't that right, Charles?
But it didn't matter. His old friend was so full of pain and anguish it was almost like they were on the same side again.
But Erik's response would always be the same.
"Maybe you should have fought harder for them."
Fought for his best friend, maybe. And there was some semblance of truth to that. Being apart from Charles had hurt.
But Charles' sibling affection for Raven had turned into something more mature with Erik. And that was the truth of it.
Erik had fought for her.
And now he was fighting her.
.
Erik liked the subway. He had first come to New York in 1949. It left a lot to be desired. But the subway was something else. He could move as easy as a shark through water. The scent of the metallic structures sent a thrill through him. So much metal permeated the air the he hadn't even felt her coming.
Not until she had a shard of glass pushed against his throat.
His heart was beating hard and for a second he thought that this might be a dream too. But her eyes were furious, her blonde hair windswept. He couldn't help but smile.
"One move and I shove this in your throat," she threatened.
"How did you find me?"
"You taught me everything I know." She was wary. She should be. They were underground with a complete arsenal at his disposal. But she had come prepared.
"It's been awhile since we've been this close."
She pushed the shard in farther as warning. But they could both feel it. The air crackled between them and the space seemed to evaporate the moment he said it. It almost seemed as though she wanted to get away from him. But they were shoved in such a tight enclosure that would be impossible without removing her protection.
This was it. This was the moment. And he had known it all along. Being so close to her in this way would ruin everything.
"You tried to kill me," she accused, shaking off his innuendo. He always did that. When they were close like this he would take advantage of it when she least expected it. He knew his powers. It wasn't just the ability to manipulate magnetic fields.
"And now you're doing the same," Erik said in admiration. How could he blame her for that? How could this be wrong?
"That's it?" she asked.
"What do you want?" Erik asked. "An explanation?"
"I want you to know you aren't putting your hands on me again."
And for the first time, Erik knew that was impossible.
"And if I was trying to save us all?" He leaned in closer, letting her glass scrape his neck.
"What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.
"Your DNA is the key to Trask's war on mutants," Erik said. "They were planning on kidnapping you and torturing you like they did the others. Experimenting on you to create killing machines that target us."
Mystique's hand slackened slightly but she never put the glass down.
"I thought this would be a more elegant solution," Erik finished.
"Elegant," she scoffed.
"You wouldn't have suffered."
"That's your excuse?" Mystique asked. "Kill me quickly to save me from being tortured?"
"I never said I was going to excuse it," Erik said. "Just explain. You had the same idea. But killing Trask won't finish this."
"And killing everyone will?" she asked.
"Something's changed in you," Erik said, studying her. His stomach turned at the thought. Anger and something else that identifying would ruin the balance that they had. "Did he get inside your head?"
The same thing Charles had accused Erik of doing. But he should have given her more credit. She would always be her own woman with her own reasons for doing things.
"Are you Charles' Raven?" he asked. "Or… Mystique."
He almost said it. My Mystique. But that seemed too far. This was definitely Mystique. The woman threatening to kill him. His ultimate femme fatale.
"I'm not anybody's," she vowed.
And he knew that for certain.
"Are you going to stick that in my neck?" he asked.
"You would do the same to me."
Not anymore.
It was that simple, and he wasn't really sure why.
"That's in the past."
"That was three days ago."
"And it took you that long to find me." He couldn't help but tease her. He couldn't help but be near her. He couldn't even feel the blood dripping down his neck.
She straightened, her gaze challenging him.
"I won't," he finally admitted. He could tell she didn't believe him. "They'll create these machines with or without you. What matters now is what we'll do to stop it."
We as though it were already agreed upon. He knew it wasn't. But they were too close for him not to try.
And he said it. He couldn't help himself. He said what he could never say to anyone else, because she was different. He could see the fire in her eyes even if they were blue and not her cat-like yellow. She brought it out in him. He couldn't help but press close to her. Try and use it against her even. Because it wasn't fair.
"I missed you."
It just wasn't fair how much he missed her.
She pressed her weapon against his neck even as he pressed her against the wall. Her right hand pulled at his lapel as she kept him at bay with her left.
He didn't feel the prick in his skin. Only the familiarity of her lips against his once again.
Ten years had been too long. There was no space between their bodies and he was sure the humans were about to stare as they passed.
He held her face between his hands, trying to get closer to her. But she finally broke away, breathing quickly. He had almost half hoped that she would forget all her devices and return to her natural form.
But he was bleeding on his collar. She had enough sense to hold onto the piece of glass. She definitely wasn't going to forget her human form.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. His wetness smeared across her skin.
"Come with me," he urged. She was breathing heavily.
But even then, he knew it was useless. Not right now.
"Goodbye, Erik."
She slid out of the booth easily and he heard the clatter of the glass hitting the floor. His smart girl. She would never use metal on another attempt on his life.
He threw himself into the crowd again, his hands searching for her like they had ten years ago. But that too was useless. He searched desperately through the crowd but she had already seamlessly transformed without anyone's notice and melted into the crowd.
He turned around, getting a last glance as she escaped him.
He smiled.
.
It was smart. Too smart. He hadn't even seen it coming.
Didn't even see the real president behind her image of an exact copy. The helmet was secure on his head and it was almost as if everything was where it should be. He couldn't see her – didn't see her – until she picked up the godforsaken plastic gun.
Charles was there and maybe he could pretend that they all still believed in the same things. But Charles would always be Charles and Erik couldn't predict Raven anymore.
That was okay.
Was he stealing her thunder?
It didn't matter. With him here to take them all out and for her to take Trask out, they were the same again. More similar than Charles who seemed to be floating on another island completely.
He could still see her yellow eyes glowing at him in the darkness.
She was ruthless. Just like him.
She was still limping but she got a handle on the gun easily enough.
The entire problem with Erik was that he could never think that not killing humans would stop this war. Sparing them would just delay it. That was something that he truly believed. More had to die for them to live. He didn't believe in tidal waves.
Somehow Raven was the medium between him in Charles. Somehow she could believe in both of their sides. She was the bridge but there was competitiveness in Erik that he simply couldn't shake.
He didn't let her pick up that gun. But he couldn't very well stop it either. She just wanted him out of the way.
Maybe she wanted revenge.
He liked the latter. It appealed to a sense of justice in him.
Charles would say that there was a difference between revenge and justice.
Mystique would say that in a perfect world, there didn't need to be.
It was Raven who shot him, not any of the humans. But somehow, she was the medium. Maybe not Charles' Raven, maybe not his Mystique, but maybe just a little bit of Raven that could straddle two worlds.
She never even hesitated.
The bullet went in through the side of his neck and quickly shot out through the back.
When he hit the ground, he couldn't help but be a little bit disappointed. He held his neck, blood seeping through his fingers.
"You used to be a better shot."
He could hear the bitterness in his own voice. He knew he was angry at her. Angry for choosing to live by Charles' rules. It was like she was picking him over Erik and it made him uncertain. He didn't like that feeling.
"Trust me, I still am." His smugness returned when she kicked him to the ground. "He's all yours, Charles."
When she dragged his helmet off of him he knew that for certain she was leaving him for dead. Just like he had done for her. Even if it wasn't revenge, it had equilibrium and that appealed to the poetic justice in him.
She slithered away like she could always so easily. Charles let her. And if Erik didn't know any better, then it seemed like he still cared for the both of them.
Mystique may have left him for dead, but Charles couldn't let anyone hurt him, even now.
He didn't know if he could trust his old friend's projected vision of them being together again. It seemed a little too naïve on his part.
But Raven walking away was more of a sign to him than anything else.
.
"You could have killed me."
His voice was almost angry. She hadn't even heard him. In the middle of a crowded street, she never thought she would see him again so soon. She turned towards him, her blonde hair swaying gently.
He was in the shadows, but she could still see the scar from her sprawling across his neck.
"So could Charles," she reminded him. "He let you go."
Erik's fingers dug into her arm almost painfully.
"Why didn't you?" he demanded. "You let me go."
"Are you angry because you would have killed me, or just guilty?"
"I would never feel guilty over saving the mutant race."
"I did that," she said. "No thanks to you. But don't you ever doubt my shot again or you'll get it for real."
He didn't let go of her arm. "Raven."
She pulled away in disgust. "Like I could ever kill you."
His hand dropped slowly, caressing her skin as it went. She didn't think it was on purpose. Her white skin blossomed with red where he left his mark on her.
It wouldn't stay.
"Even if it was to save all of us?" he asked.
"I gave you to Charles," she shrugged. "I leave it to him to deal with the murder of a brother."
"Charles is soft hearted."
"Then there's your answer," she said. "You walked away."
"So did you."
She looked away from him, unable to meet his gaze. He started to circle her, like a vulture. He did that when he had his prey in his sights. She then glared at him furiously, not allowing him to manipulate her like that.
"I guess that answers my question." He was using that tone he always did with her. Persuasive. Dark. "If you're Charles' Raven or…"
Mine.
"And I told you," she snapped. "I'm not anyone's."
"I know you're not." Mine. "You've always belonged to yourself. That's what's so perfect about you."
Mine.
She felt uneasy at this. But she could hear him. She reached for him, smoothing her fingers over the scar on his neck. It belonged to her now.
That somehow made it all better.
She had marked him.
Her nails turned on him. He stiffened, but let her dig into him.
"How did you find me?" she asked.
"I taught you everything I know," he said, taking a breath. "No one leaves a scar quite like you."
Her hand was soft on him again.
"So."
"So what?" she responded.
"I'll see you in Dallas."
It was a question, but it didn't sound like one.
Erik never asked questions. All his questions were the ones he already knew the answers to.
I missed you.
That was the truth of it.
In the end, taking his hand again was easy.