A/N: Hey again, guys. How're you all doing? Okay, so this is my first story that actually, you know, has a plot and stuff. Hopefully you'll like it *crosses fingers*

Big shout-out to Dreamcreator! Thank you so much, my friend. I would've never had the guts to put this up if not for you. Thanks for listening :) You're the best.

Summary: One fateful day on the battlefields of Belgium, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier meet for the first time. But is it really the first? Erik's sure they've never met before. So why does he feel like he's known Charles all his life? And why does Charles look at him like he's feeling the same thing?

Seven times. Seven lives. Seven chances to get it right.

Wow, that was a crappy summary. Basically, it's a Cherik version of this amazing book by Marcus Sedgwick called Midwinterblood. Read it, it's brilliant.

By the way, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not German. I do learn it, but I'm really not very good, so I had to get my lyrics from Google. Very sorry if it's wrong! *runs and hides*

"I will live seven times, and I will look for you and love you in each life. Will you follow?"

Part 1

The Soldiers

Belgium, somewhere near Yprès

24th December, 1914

Chapter 1

"Hey, look, Xavier. They're putting up a Christmas tree!"

"That's wonderful, Wilson, but I'm trying to sleep. It's Christmas Eve, or didn't you know?"

"Of course I knew, nitwit. Though the carols were a bit of a giveaway. SILENT NIGHT, HOOOO-LEEE NIGHT!"

"Oh, God."

"It's only ten minutes to midnight, Charlie-boy! Aren't you at least going to stay up til then? See Christmas Day in?"

"To be honest, Wilson, I'm very, very tired, and this might be the only bit of peace and quiet we get for a long time."

"Yeah, it's a truce, so you should be celebrating, not snoozing!"

"I quite enjoy "snoozing", to be honest."

"And I quite enjoy celebrating."

"Well, each to his own, I suppose. Nighty-night."

"ALL IS CALM, ALL IS BRIIIIIIIGHT – "

"Oh, dear Lord. If you keep doing that I'm going to shoot you. Everyone will believe me when I tell them I thought you were a rat. You look enough like one."

"Excuse me!"

"You're excused. Now, if you'll kindly excuse me, I'm going to take a walk. No point trying to sleep with you shrieking like a strangled cat. I swear, you're going to force the Germans to break the truce if you carry on like that."

"You're just jealous of my lovely singing voice. I wouldn't be surprised if the Kaiser himself came down here just to listen."

"Of course he would, Wilson. Of course. Bye."

"Bye. Be careful not to get shot!"

"It will be extremely difficult, what with all the gunfire tonight. Back in a quarter of an hour."

"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, alles schläft, einsam wacht…"

"Erik?"

"Uh huh?"

"Shut up."

"Why? It's Christmas Eve, die Englische have stopped bombing us, and we them, it's a freezingly beautiful night - why shouldn't I sing carols? They're doing it!"

"Just because they can survive on a grand total of zero hours of sleep a night doesn't mean I can."

"Nür das traute hoch heilige Paar, Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar –"

"SLEEP IN HEAVENLY PEEEEE-ACE! SLEE-EEP IN HEA-VEN-LY PEACE."

"He answered me! That Engländer sang the last bit back to me in English! Isn't that amazing? Don't you think that's amazing, Heinrich?"

"I think you should listen to the song and go to sleep."

"Pff. Who needs sleep on a night like this?"

"Me. You. The boys in the next section of the trench. Die Englische. Everyone, in fact."

"I wholeheartedly disagree."

"Smmmrrmrmmm."

"Heinrich? Heinrich! Well, if you're too boring to do anything except sleep, I'm leaving. Back soon."

"Wha-? Erik, you can't go over!"

"Sure I can. Who's going to shoot me now? A bird? I'll be back before you know it. Fifteen minutes at the most."

"Wait, Erik – ah, Scheiβe."

"Let me guess. Couldn't sleep?"

Erik jumps in surprise, whipping round to face whoever it is who addressed him, then relaxes. It's just an English soldier; around the same age (maybe a tad younger), shorter than him, wiry, with brown hair and very, very blue eyes. Wow. Like the sky, except prettier. They're so nice that Erik can't think of any good adjectives to describe them.

"No, no. My partner wants to sleep, but I do not."

The man laughs. "I'm the opposite. My friend is keeping me up singing Silent Night."

"Really? He was the one singing Stille Nacht in English?"

"You were the one singing it in German? Thanks!"

Luckily Erik realises that this must be sarcasm, and laughs. "You are welcome! It is Christmas Eve, and it is not often that we stop killing one another."

"That is the point of the war, or so I've been told. Your English is astounding."

"My grandmother was Irish. She used to teach me English when I stayed with her at Christmas."

"Ah, that explains it. Charles Xavier, by the way." He puts out his hand and Erik takes it. He notices that Mr Xavier is the first soldier he's met that doesn't introduce himself by rank, and so he does the same.

"Erik Lehnsherr."

"Pleased to meet you, Erik Lehnsherr."

"And I am pleased to meet you, Charles Xavier."

They stand there in silence for a while, Charles leaning against one of the few trees that hasn't been blown up yet. "You know, we should do something tomorrow. Or, rather, later on today."

"Like what? We cannot exactly give one another Christmas presents."

"Of course we can. Have you got coffee, chocolate, rum, things like that?"

"Well, yes, but there is not very much of those things."

"That's why they're good presents! They're in short supply on our side too. So, we could exchange gifts. But that's quite boring, frankly. I mean, of course they're good and all, but a bit dull all the same. We need something bigger, something better, something people will remember for years to come…" Charles stares off into space, obviously thinking hard.

"A football match?" Erik blurts, completely out of the blue. Charles stares at him like he's gone mad. Which, to be honest, he probably has.

"A football match? A football match? To commemorate the truce? That, my dear fellow, is quite possibly the… best idea I have ever heard!"
"Really?" Erik grins in relief.

"Yes, really! We could hold it tomorrow morning, after the presents. About eleven o'clock? I think we've got a ball rattling about somewhere in the trench. God bless the man who brought it! Helmets for goalposts, soldiers for a crowd… Strictly friendly, of course, don't want any punch-ups breaking out. But it'll be fun! How about you tell your boys about it when you go back, and I'll tell mine, and by morning we'll be all ready and raring to go?" This is a very long passage of speech, and a little beyond Erik's loose grasp of English grammar; but, surprisingly, he finds he can understand every word. How strange, he thinks. But he doesn't voice his puzzlement. Charles looks at him a little strangely, like he's confused too, but surely not for the same reason. It's not like he can read minds or anything.

"Yes, that sounds very good."

"Great! See you in the morning, then."

"See you, Charles."

"Goodbye, Erik."

And with that, they both trudge away through the mud and slime to their respective worlds.