Erik does nothing but exist, suspended. Charles rises to his feet, pushing a distracted hand through his hair as he excuses himself into the small kitchen in the adjoining room. Erik tries to ignore the uneasiness rising along his neck, pressing at the base of his skull. He can still feel Charles' hand on his knee, can feel the echo of his touch ripple through his numb body and upwards still, lapping slow at his mind like warm water in a bath.
"As you might have guessed," Charles calls to Erik, the sharp clink of metal sounding from within, "Cain does not have a mutant power." He reappears in the doorway with several sets of utensils, eyes resting wearily on Erik's face. "He was quite frightened of me growing up. Though I can't see why, the most I would do with it was to see whether he fancied another cup of tea or when to let Mother alone." Charles' mouth tightens, dimpling just below his lip. "Father died. Then Mother died. My telepathy is one thing, but Cain has a helmet- a metal helmet that somehow blocks me out. Soon after he acquired it, he threw me out of the kingdom and, well-" He gestures about the cottage with a teaspoon, "Here I am." He looks at Erik expectantly. Then frowns. "You can speak now. I've let go of your body some time ago."
Erik breathes in sharply, as if only in control of his body now that Charles has said it aloud. His nerves jolt with conscious sensation and he jerks up so quickly he nearly falls, knees threatening to give as if he'd been out to sea.
Charles takes a concerned step towards him and Erik raises his hand to stop him there. He shakes his head roughly, his mind positively swimming- thoughts, nearly nascent, tumbling from his mouth. "How did-Why haven't you stopped him? Anything?" Erik manages, his voice rough and raw. Shaw must have known.His throat burns like salt water.
Charles' expression clouds, dark with anger. "I've tried, don't you think I have?" he says harshly. "I can't access his mind through the blasted helmet. I can't even touch the surface." His face is drawn, parted mouth twisted into an unhappy shape. His chest heaves beneath his shirt and Erik's eyes catch the motion. Charles must notice, the way the shadow across his face flickers, then fades as he presses his lips together and forces his breathing to slow. He swallows, keeping his eyes trained on Erik's. "Besides, my students need me."
"And who are your students?" Erik asks cautiously. His eyes dart to the door when the whistling pick up again, closer this time, echoing between the trees.
Charles smiles wryly. "Survivors, Erik. Just like you."
Erik feels more than sees the metal knob turn before the door bursts open with a chill gust of Autumn air. A boy with curly red hair is whistling -loud and resonant-and the glasses on the table begin to shake and vibrate with the tune. The boy raises his brows at Charles and hits some higher notes. The glasses tremble with such an organic thrum that the hollow sound fills the room.
"Easy now, Sean," Charles warns though his eyes are bright with mirth. The boy grins, but stops anyway. The glasses still, each rim a perfect circle.
Sean's expression goes blank as he notices Erik for the first time. "Who's this guy?" he asks.
"A friend," Charles answers quickly, firmly, before Erik can. Erik's mouth is already open but he just looks at Charles incredulously.
Sean shrugs, satisfied with the explanation, and trudges the rest of the way in. He is followed by a blonde girl, curvy with a pretty face. A dark-skinned boy, thin and tall...a blond boy with a hostile expression. Seven children trail in noisily, one after another, all taking their seats at the table.
Above the din of "What's for dinner tonight?" "I'm so tired." "Scoot over, bozo," Charles whispers their names to Erik who is not quite sure, to be honest with himself, why he's still here- except that he has never met another mutant besides Shaw, let alone an entire housefull.
"Raven, Armando, Alex, Angel..." Charles whispers, "Emma," to Erik and another blonde girl, this one with cold eyes, stares straight at him. Through him.
Erik can feel a tendril of frost curling at his nape before an explosion erupts at the other side of the table.
"Alex, you're so fucking clumsy!" Raven shouts, slamming both hands down on the table, and the plates clatter. "You almost singed off my eyebrows, jack ass." Her skin shifts from peach to blue and back again. Erik's never seen anything like it and watches in fascination as the scales rise on her forearm in anger. It's exquisite.
Alex just grins slightly to himself and watches her fume. "If anyone's clumsy, it's Bigfoot over here. Isn't that right, Hank?" Alex slaps a hand to another boy's back, nearly knocking his spectacles loose.
Hank grimaces, then frowns. "I'm still adjusting to running without shoes, it takes some time to-"
"Guys, we have company." Armando says. Everyone quiets down and stares, some having to turn in their chairs to see Erik properly. A few eyes dart to Charles' tattered shirt and Erik's face heats.
"This is Erik," Charles announces, leaning into him and flashing him an encouraging smile and the words Be Nice, bright as fireworks behind his eyes. "He'll be joining us for supper."
"Is he a mutant, too?"
"Where did he come from?"
"I thought we were the only ones left."
The last sentence echoes the loudest in Erik's ears as Charles excuses them both for just a moment, and leads him outside. He shuts the door behind them, muffling the rest of the excitement that rises in their wake.
It is dark outside, now. The sky is dusty with dusk and speckled with stars, peppered in the arc of navy sky. Though the North Star is exactly where it should be, Erik feels lost for the first time.
"I thought I was alone," Erik murmurs and does not miss the way his words are drowned, made almost insignificant, by the sound of crickets chirping together.
"Not anymore," Charles says and his voice swells with such earnestness, with such luxury of certainty that it irritates Erik.
"What exactly are you doing with these children?" Erik asks curtly. Where had he been at this age? What had he been doing? "You've saved them? Hiding them away in your little safehouse?"
"This is a school." Charles frowns, the soft smile slipping off his face. "We're not hiding, Erik. Never that."
"What can you teach them?"
"How to control their powers."
Erik's laugh is dry. "I've heard that one before." His memories flash to Shaw. His smile and his cruelties, his hands and tools on Erik's flesh. He is overcome with a wave of nausea so strong he imagines Charles must feel it too, though the other man doesn't flinch at all. Instead, he watches Erik intently, perhaps reading his face instead of his mind for answer. "I was raised by a man who said the same things," Erik says. It is impossible to keep the bitterness from seeping through so he doesn't try.
Charles shakes his head, "I teach them to believe in themselves and what they can do. I want them to understand their gifts. To understand peace and want it, too."
"What you should be doing is teaching them to fight," Erik corrects him. He brightens and clasps a hand on Charles' shoulder with the realization. "We can fight. We can take Cain down, Charles, if you'd only-"
"Erik, they're children," Charles interrupts.
"Younger children are made into Cain's soldiers," Erik counters, "If they are old enough to know death, they are old enough to know war. If they want a fight, Charles, we will give it to them."
"You're wrong." Charles clips with a shake of his head. "You cannot find peace through war, Erik, you of all people should know that."
"Coward." The word leaves Erik's mouth before it registers.
"No, Erik. You're the coward," Charles says, trying and failing to keep the anger out of his voice.
Erik's temper shoots up like a flare. "And what am I afraid of?"
Charles doesn't back down. "You're afraid that even after all this time, you're just like him."
Erik's heart stops cold. He reaches for Charles, grasping him by the arm hard enough to hurt. "And you, my friend,are a liar," he hisses, "I thought you said you stay out. You've read my mind."
"I didn't," Charles returns icily, though his breath is warm on Erik's face. "You were thinking it yourself over and over again with your hands around my neck, I could barely hear a word you were saying over your conscience."
Erik lets go in a jerked movement, speechless.
Charles raises his arm and places his hand on Erik's chest, the heel of his palm resting between his ribs. "Erik, you are more than just the weapon you think you were made to be." His words are said with such hostile earnestness, his voice trembles with it. "I understand your pain and anguish. But what you are asking of me to do with these students is little different than what he has done to you." His eyes are bright, even in the night. The corners of his mouth twist and it might be a smile. "Be a better man," he says. Than him? Than that?
Erik is at a loss and after a moment, Charles turns back toward the house with a crunch of soil beneath his feet. Erik doesn't follow.
He'd never noticed he was alone until he wasn't anymore.
His doe lies where he's left it. It is heavy on his shoulders when he lifts it once more.
He follows the path he's memorized, deciding to follow his internal magnetic compass instead of the constellation of stars.
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