I don't own but slight warning: Because Charles is horrible and manipulative, and frankly, Erik is in love.
XXX
You try, You lie, You love me still
XXX
Listen to your heart, (no) not the voices in your head.
And still, you wish you could lose your feelings for the better part of the century to come.
000
They remember splashing, of waves washing up against the docks, of water rolling over sand. And it reminds them of a life they could but do not lead. He remembers feeling nothing and he remembers hearing his voice, echoing right within the deepest corner of his mind.
His fingers dig into his skin, nails biting and nearly pressuring him into staying.
And Erik does, the first time Charles asks. That, he won't deny.
"I know everything about you, Erik."
The second time, he has him in his arms (he has him on his mind.)
There are no ways around this.
It will always end this way.
000
"I have dreams, recurring dreams of you."
He starts.
And only you.
000
Erik's hands are easing over his ankles, one at a time. Charles sees it all, from the movement of each long pianist finger to the droop of his own unfeeling joint. Erik's eyes don't look directly at him, they are hovering in and out of memories, his lips following, almost absentmindedly.
"Since Cu—" He stops himself and begins again because the words are uncomfortable but the underlying meanings physically hurt. "It started about 2 months after I left."
Charles listen, tries to understand but it feels like he is grasping at something just out of his reach.
"At first I thought you were reaching out to me through telepathy." A fading spark, a silent hope. "But I always have the helmet on, I knew it wasn't real. Not the way I wanted it. The things your voice would say is unsettling, sometimes it is a variation based off of conversations we once had but mostly, it was just you, the one in my head, telling me things that doesn't seem to connect, not immediately anyway."
His hands pause, he rests them over Charles' shin, feels the body warmth even Charles can't feel himself.
"It seems like you are telling me parts of a larger conversation, filling me in on something I am missing."
Charles looks away from Erik's hands, looks the man in the eyes and reassures him. "You're not mad, Erik."
There is a soft, almost self-deprecating, laugh that holds no real mirth. "No, I suppose not. I just—"miss you too much.
Erik leans in, waits and allows Charles the choice to pull away, because he will understand.
"Some days, the only thing keeping me going is remembering that first night. Of the both of us in the water, and you telling me for the first time, Charles. That I'm not alone."
000
Erik dreams and knows the better man to be buried in a mass grave back in Auschwitz.
He allows Charles to put his fingers to his temple, give over the reigns. He lets Charles see what he has been seeing since the beach.
And this, in his own head, he can finally say out loud.
000
Erik kisses differently.
It isn't unpleasant.
It is just unlike everything Charles has always known.
000
Erik's intricate mind lays bare before him, spread out and when Charles is confronted, he finally sees the missing links in their past.
He sees himself in each dormant slip of the brain and it is nothing but him. Broken, jagged shards of another Charles F. Xavier imbedding himself in all the tender areas of Erik's mind. He sucks in a breath and can't bear to let it out.
Even Erik's mother is not his own, not anymore.
000
There is turbulence, dry claps of thunder in their youths, water slowly filling their lungs. The world around him is a dark blue and.
You're not alone.
That is the start of it all. His voice echoes in his own head and it is true.
Erik isn't Erik, but the worst possible reflection of himself.
Because Charles has always been on his own. And their world has become a fake construction featuring no one else but him.
He feels a whirlwind of emotions dominated by anger and a bitter mantra of nononono. But the water push and pull at them and in his desperation to save, he makes a fatal mistake that breaks any and all morality he has ever held close to his chest.
He shifts something in the man's mind, he doesn't notice, not until now.
And it grows until it has integrated itself into the anger and pain.
There is a mark, a 214782, a press of comfort, that Charles mercilessly carves in between the memories and intangible anger and pain that beats with each sound of the heart.
A trigger is cocked and ready to be pulled (by a pale English hand peppered with freckles) and Erik Lehnsherr is in love before the bullet is even fired from the barrel.
Neither is in control anymore. It takes a life of its own.
000
Charles pulls back.
He has his fingers around Erik's wrists. It is too tight, too suffocating, and it feels just right.
"Erik," he breathes out, "the dreams."
"Yes…?"
"…Are they vivid?"
"…They started like voice recordings. Just the sound of your voice for a few weeks." Erik looks disgruntle with offering details. "And then I can talk back, engage. Sometimes you, the voice wouldn't reply and sometimes it would." Sometimes there is even the feeling of a hand on my arm, fingers grazing at my cheek. Lips terribly closed to my ear, "just telling me that I'm not alone." And I never should be.
Charles ache in Erik's brutal honesty.
"The dreams don't feel like dreams. They," Erik catches his eyes, he furrows his brows, "they feel like memories."
Of a past we never had.
Charles echoes back, knowing, finally.
000
He is always trying to make, to break, to tear down the old foundation lying in ruins and fit in the new. But this isn't what he wants, no, it is exactly what he wants.
And sometimes, he loses his way when there are no blue eyes leading the way.
000
"Raven."
She doesn't bother with correcting him, she even goes as far as to accommodate. In his drug dazed days, he has seen her enter his room when Erik is busy with Brotherhood matters and the boys have checked in with him. She steers clear of the time when he is fully awake and only walks in to brush his hair from his face or brings in tea for when he wakes.
"Erik told me to bring you breakfast."
Charles also knows she is the one that pressed the first aid kit into Erik's hands when they first arrived. And there are some things that will never change between them. He is glad.
"Thank you."
She puts the tray on his lap, stands back and without actively trying to read her emotions, Charles is lost to the way she leans and stares, teeth biting on her lower lip. He waits, slowly starts on the eggs before she is standing straight once more and something in her eyes sharpen into determination, he supposes.
"Erik is loyal." To the Brotherhood, to the cause, to you. He doesn't read her mind and she leaves it unsaid.
"…He isn't a dog."
"No, he isn't." She shakes her head and the determination fades into sadness. "He is so much worst when I see the way you look at him. And the way he, it's like—"
She sucks in a breath in her urgency, she can't let the men she believed in fall apart. "He has trouble sleeping! Even the sleeping pills I slip into his water doesn't help. He—"
"Raven."
Her eyes widen and she is finally seeing them crumble when she can still stand strong.
"Erik, he is becoming the worst version of you."
And because she loved the two of them, she refuse to wrench apart the lies, Raven leaves the room, lingering something Charles doesn't realize until much later to be pity.
The horror never comes, not while he still doesn't know.
000
Erik shakes his head, pulls back so he is sitting straight on the bed again. And this is probably as close to pleading as Charles will ever see this man to be. There is a frown but there is no disappointment.
"You won't stay."
"I—"
"You can't stay."
It is almost like he needs reassurance.
"…No, I suppose not."
"We aren't capable of compromise." He eyes the wheelchair and Charles knows it will always be hard for Erik because that metal frame is a stark reminder that he can't ever forget. He catches the wisps of thoughts on the surface of Erik's mind, almost wistful and solemn. And I've done you too much wrong.
My friend, that, you are completely right. "I'm sorry too." I am still doing something wrong all this time.
But Charles fears he will always be the one who can never come clean. And he only ever asks for the things he knows everyone else is willing to part with.
"Can I… kiss you, again?"
"I have always been yours for the taking, Charles."
And a vice grip clenches around his heart.
(It hurts almost as much as 1962.)
000
Alex is a coiled spring.
"I suppose you can't work anything faster?" He stands off to the side, shifting his weight from leg to leg.
"I don't want to be here anymore than you do."
Alex isn't observant but he is learning to care. He breathes himself into a regular rhythm and lets the anger fade from his eyes. Hank's shoulders are tight with tension.
"What if… how would…" He breathes out and tries again. "What if the professor wants to stay?"
Beast hates the possibilities and loathes his honesty even more.
"Then we let him."
"And the school?"
"Scrap the idea and try something else we can actually do?"
"But—"
"It is his choice, we have no say."
000
He doesn't return to his own room and stays the night. The doors are closed, their eyes are opened, and really, they should finally see.
(But they don't, they never do.)
"This isn't fate, Erik. It's faith."
He doesn't know who he is trying to convince.
Because this argument will never work on the man in front of him.
Erik doesn't treat him any different. He still looks at him with those hungry eyes, like he sees what he can't have and Charles feels the same. Erik won't reach out, touch him or tilt his head when they kiss (even when he wants it, almost as much as Charles does.)
"No, Charles. This is your blind hope for my redemption." It's a nice word, a kinder version of what he has had in mind for months and months on end but he looks at Charles and Charles is still forgiving him. He swallows the beating heart in his throat but still it comes out hoarse and nearly broken. "Haven't you learned anything? I am not that person."
He isn't one for mercy but he is willing to spare Charles from any more pain.
"And I won't ever be."
He doesn't want all those second chances.
"Neither am I."
Charles knows and it is almost enough for him to understand. He isn't Erik's perfection.
000
He knows of all the ways he can act.
The path he has taken for a passive equality by playing good and docile. The path Erik has taken for a violent bloodbath of mutant supremacy and it hasn't come to this, but it will, soon. There is also compromise, and the choice of an entire withdrawal from the world.
But they are no good and they only want the one thing that is the worst for them.
000
"Erik, you know full well what I am capable of."
Erik has got up in the morning in a bed that smells like Charles and it is pleasant when he turns his head to catch dark brown hair buried into a pillow. He pushes back the bangs, Charles gives a tired murmur and the early morning sun filters through the blinds. They are both still clothed and everything is suddenly just simple.
It is late in the evening when Erik finds Charles, once more, in another room of the temporary Brotherhood, nursing a drink he shouldn't have in the first place, not with the injuries that are still trying to heal themselves.
"I can make you forget who you are. I can turn you into a whole other person."
They aren't facing each other. Charles is looking out the windows and Erik is still standing by the doors.
"And I…" he swallows and they both know he is far from tipsy even, "I can make you come back to me."
Charles finally turns around and it is far worst. Because instead of anger, Erik only looks hurt.
"…Would you? Would you really do it if you had the chance?"
"No, I couldn't." And it is the truth, as long as that helmet exists, he can't ever delve into Erik's mind and shape the raw edges into something he can touch without bleeding all over the place.
Erik's expression doesn't change, he looks like he has given up on the world. (But hasn't he? Erik has never believed in humanity, he has only believed in cruelty.) Charles doesn't blame him because the alternate truth stands parallel: Yes, he would. He will take that chance and change everything without a second thought. Warp a world into something he can bear to look at. And no one would have known.
Because the answer is yes. Yes, I would. I would make you love me and it won't hurt like the first time.
000
He remembers the pressure of his lips, that part is real.
But the intentions aren't.
Not when the emotions Erik feels in his heart is a fabrication of Charles' own making. Still Charles never tells, he lies, and Erik's love is a secret he will carry to the grave with shame and pride.
"Can you…?"
Erik is wanting, eyes dilating as they darken. This is the night before they both know he will leave but they don't say it out loud. They haven't given up, this is just them giving in.
"Yes, somewhat."
Charles doesn't have to look, but he does, because he is a reflection of Erik. And they are very much the same.
"What can I do?" He asks but his lips are still close, still red and slick with Charles' spit. And it might just be a little much, if not, not enough.
"I… I can show you how, if you like."
Charles leans away, wraps his arms around his neck and pulls Erik into his lap. There is love in his eyes but he feels like he is drowning. He peppers kisses along Erik's jaw, untucks the shirt from his pants and runs a palm along the span of his back, fingertips tracing the bumps of Erik's spine.
"I would like that."
When this is all over, Erik, you'll hate me. And this sentiment I have for you won't ever change, you see. (But it doesn't end, not for a long long time.)
Charles always falls silent, especially when it finally matters.
000
It is May 1984. It is inside news but they know it all the same: the Mutants Registration Act.
Still, they haven't given up. (But that comes later, much later.)
In Charles' head, it starts in a fashion that is somewhat like this.
"Senator Kelly."
The man will look down at him with a disconcerting eye and see a man in a wheelchair. But he has already lost all his hair and the lines on his face have sharpened. "I trust you understand that you are making a huge mistake here."
It ends in the same way Erik tells him, days before, when the act first surfaced.
"Identification, Charles, and then they will be branding numbers on our heads."
His hand lingers on the other's shoulder, fingertips light and heavy on skin that he can feel, but that is the extent of the contact they allow anymore. (Any more and it might just be everything they have always yearned for.) And they can't have that. No, not again, not when they are still capable of bringing it all to another horrific end.
"No, there is no mistake here. Professor."
Charles fights a lost cause for a man who doesn't believe in it, in the same way Erik is too.
"You'll regret this, senator."
Charles has always been a foolish man and Erik, he is finally right.
His fingers never even touch his temple.
000
"Professor."
"Ah, yes. Hank. It's done then."
Beast nods.
He suppose, it will always come to this.
It is three days after.
"Then tomorrow is goodbye."
000
He doesn't know what he is asking for when he opens his mouth but it comes and he no longer wants to fight, not when the one standing opposite is Erik, not when this will end the same way he has imagined it to end. And this time, not even the loss of his legs will be enough.
Not by a long run, at the very least.
This isn't about compensation. So retaliation rings out loud instead.
This is about.
Charles thinks and it hurts when it comes.
This isn't about anything. (Not when they still have each other to cling and grasp at when the surface never comes.)
"Bring me peace."
He knows he is asking the wrong man for the impossible and again, that word echoes louder than his telepathy ever could. And he is still guilty, for so many deeds. Because the blood on his hands are not his own, it is Erik's and Erik never even knew Charles has slashed him right open from the back.
"I," Erik falters at Charles' request and this is the final time, they are really no good with compromise. "I am not your peace."
Only it is never that easy. Charles has given too much but it isn't enough. No, he can't have the one thing he truly wants. The same thing, that one thing, Erik can forgive the world for. And yes, this is only the start of a tragic struggle, the indication of years and years of push and pull (when they only ever want is to let go.)
"Bring me peace, Erik. That is the only thing I ask of you." But it isn't. He wants it all.
Erik smiles, it is still bittersweet, and Magneto picks up the helmet when Erik's hands tremor.
The desperation is thick, almost enough to bring tears to their eyes. Charles knows Erik is incapable of forgiveness, so he won't ever tell, he knows. Charles sits still in his wheelchair as Erik slips on that dreaded helmet.
(You're my anger and my pain, Charles. You're the only thing I can draw my power from. There's no in between.)
And still, they stand strong and nothing changes.
Except.
Their stance in a war they can't control.
"You'll see, Charles. Peace is not for us."
It starts with this.
(But it isn't peace, not by a very long shot.)
XXX Kuro
Also, if you haven't caught on, this is basically Charles incepting Erik without either of them knowing.