So, here's the letter you were waiting for. This is the first GOOD fanfiction I've finished. Get the tissues ready.
The Letter and a Sigh
By Trudy Harris
Charles had told Hank to simply leave him there in his armchair to read the previous night and then come to get him the next morning. He had done so, but Charles had not known that his night would be interrupted. He woke to sounds of life in the mansion. Sitting up in his chair, he made sure to wipe his still wet eyes before Hank entered the room. It would not do to have his young student know he hadn't gotten but one or two hours of sleep before morning. He wouldn't let him stay down there anymore.
Hank walked in pushing the wheelchair before him. "Good morning, Professor!" He said cheerfully. "Have a nice time down here."
Charles faked a joyful face sleepily. "Yes, of course," he lied "I always sleep wonderfully by the fire." Hank smiled, buying it, and rolled the chair over to him. Charles looked at it and sighed 'How did it come to this?' Before he could answer himself and make himself even more depressed he let Hank help him into that darn contraption. The scientist, thinking Charles was upset over the fact of the hassle of getting in and out of the chair, says happily, "Don't worry about it Professor. You get the hang of it. And if you get too frustrated with it, I could try to come up with a lift to put you in it with a remote."
Charles laughs genuinely. "Oh yes, that would be quite dignified. A mechanical arm lifting me like a mother lifts her child into a highchair. Thank you Hank, but no; I'll get used to it." He settles into the seat with a grunt and sighs again with a smile. "Now, I know I've been down here all night, but I believe I'll continue reading until breakfast is ready. Thank you for bringing this down for me, my friend."
"Any time, Professor." With that, he walks away, leaving the man with his thick mask of happiness to chip it away again. Looking out the window, Charles sighs once more. He is abruptly brought back to reality, however, when he remembers the previous night and the whole reason for his old friend's visit.
In desperate, inexperienced jerks that nearly topple him over, he wheels over to the unused chessboard and lifts it. He hadn't been able to get to it last night as he had curled up in his armchair as best he could and had a good, long cry. All night. With the tea still in the carpet(it was a miracle Hank hadn't seen it). And his scarf laying on the opposite chair where it had been left. Charles had wished at least fifty times that night that it would disappear since it had been thrown there by- No! Stop it! That's silly and childish to think in that way! Just because he had left it there does not mean that it was the embodiment of the last person that touched it.
The letter was lying there innocently. Just looking at it you wouldn't think about all the terrible, wonderful…. terrible things it could contain. Charles reached out his hand and picked it up. It shone and oozed in his hand. It was something he desperately wanted to read, and yet he dreaded opening that small white envelope. But he does.
He slides his fingers under the flap to open it and takes the paper out. He unfolds it with trembling and read:
Dear Charles,
Please do not be alarmed by receiving this letter. I mean you no further harm than I have already caused you. I simply wished to speak to you without interruption. I am not sorry about my decision, but I AM sorry for the pain; both physically and emotionally.
My Friend, I'm not sure how to put this beyond a simple phrase, but I will do my best. You are my closest friend- the dearest soul to me in this world. We have trained, fought, played, laughed and dreamed together. I never imagined our dreams would split ways…. I wish things could have gone differently; that we could have stayed where we were and not have to fight against each other except in chess(of which I dearly miss. Raven is terrible at it. Really Charles, you should have taught her better).
You have stolen something from me. Something I'm not sure I wish to have returned. Perhaps I have turned this cold because you have it in your possession. Sometimes I can't breathe, Charles. I want to turn back and have you by my side once again. But I know that can never happen. Even if all this ended…. Even if everything came together and our work was completed, I could never come back to you knowing what I've done. What pain I've put you through. Plus, I'd be a bloody dog, coming back home to the familiar yard. Maybe if I come back, you should have a doghouse made for me.
I'm picturing you smiling or laughing at this. How is that making me feel better….? I miss you, Charles. I'm sure you're wondering why send this and have all this meaning behind it and not come back. Well, I'm not coming back for another reason, perhaps not because you would reject me as a friend or even a teacher at your lovely new school; but as something more. I'm saying all this because of something I owe to you. I'd like to steal something from you as well, but I'm not sure I can. Your heart, Charles. I'm sending you this letter because you deserve to know that I love you. That being said, you can understand how much it hurt to leave you. I am sorry.
Your friend till our blood goes as cold as the chains that bind us,
Erik Magnus Lehnsherr
Charles dropped the letter you his lap and put his face in his hands. He didn't know how long he wept, but it wasn't long enough to let our all the pain and longing that grew in his now stolen heart. After a time, he wiped his tears and wheeled himself over to the window, the letter still laying on his useless legs. As he stared out to his grand estate, he sighed once again and sent a booming thought out to a mind he could no longer reach: 'I love you too Erik. Till my blood goes cold.'
Cry everyone. Just cry. You know you want to, if you haven't already.
