A/N: In case anyone following this story is interested, I have posted a companion piece to this one titled Mine Iron Heart. It consists of ficlets (well right now, there's only one, but there'll definitely be more!) written from Erik's POV.
The temple's destroyed when they arrive. The three of them file silently out of the speeder and survey the smoking ruins. Charles doesn't look at either of them, just stares straight ahead and unfocuses his eyes, so that the glowing embers and flickering shadows might blur together and turn into a dream. They leave Erik in the car; he'd dozed off about halfway there, head tipping sideways towards Charles but not quite touching, so that his warm breath tickled his neck the rest of the way.
Besides, he doesn't need Erik to see this, this broken place that had been, for better or worse, his home.
The air is eerily quiet as he and Councilwoman MacTaggart—Moira, as she'd insisted he call her immediately—take hesitant steps toward what had been the garden. Charles can hear the soft wails of the Force, the echoes of fighting and pain and fear. Here and there are splashes of darkness on cobblestoned walkways, the cracked walls. He dares not open his mind to search out survivors; even with his mind tightly locked down, he can see the muted loops of what had happened.
Where are Alex and Hank? Sean and Angel and Darwin? And where is—he tamps down on the terrifying questions before the one his heart is shaking over can overtake his mind.
"Where are the children?" he asks finally, unable to take the graveyard-silence anymore. He regrets it as soon as he speaks though, for his voice breaks the air like pebbles shattering the glassy surface of a lake where darkness lurks just underneath the stillness.
Moira doesn't answer. She's staring wide-eyed at a particularly large stain on the carpet of the library.
Drip.
They glance up and Charles claps a mouth over Moira's before she screams and one over his own before he loses the contents of his stomach. There's a man pinned there and he's very, very dead because he's pinned eaglespread with knives through his hands and feet and a gaping hole in his stomach.
Drip.
Charles cautiously opens his mind to see if he could find out what had happened—and staggers backwards, clutching his head as images and feelings stream into them in an unstoppable wave. Fear-backing away-those are Sith lords-why are they here-fear-pain-begging-
"Please…the Jedi. You're here for the Jedi-" the Sith's head snaps toward him-cold-dark-no-
"I'll t-tell you where-" it's coming-please-no
"Please…just let us go-" it doesn't stop-pain-pain-pain-fear-stopstopstop-
Charles heaves himself out of the imprint and nearly loses the fight with his stomach right there. He needs a moment to take it in, breath coming in rough gasps.
"Charles, are you alr—" Moira asks him worriedly, but Charles waves her concern away.
"We need to find survivors," he says numbly. Or bodies, he doesn't add, and she stares at him as if she could hear the thought before nodding resolutely.
…
They don't find any more bodies, which Charles doesn't know is a gift or a curse. They don't find anything else either, just broken furniture, broken everything, and splatters everywhere. The Force is one tortured wail on his senses, and Darkness lurks in every room, every incongruous shadow.
In the end, it's his team who find them. Or finds Erik to be precise.
When Charles and Moira trudge back to the speeder to retrieve Erik and find someplace to hide until they can figure out what to do—he dares not linger here and neither would anyone who had managed to escape—he finds the group of them watching the still-sleeping Erik from behind a large rock.
"—it him?" Raven—thank the Force—is saying to the rest of his team.
"I'm not saying—Master!" Sean's voice turns to a shout. Erik startles awake at the sound and is immediately on guard, scanning his surroundings suspiciously until Charles risks opening his mind again to send him a bit of reassurance. Erik relaxes almost instantly, he finds with some surprise, doesn't tense or recoil for even a moment at the touch of his mind.
His team breaks cover to run toward them. They're so and inexperienced, Charles realizes suddenly with a start. They're such remarkable people that he often forgets just how young they really are, and for the first time he wonders if finding them and offering them a place at the temple had been the best thing for them. He'd thought so at the time, a year ago when he'd been naive, foolish with grand dreams. And now...and now he'd dragged them into this timeless, endless struggle of not merely good and evil, but Light and Dark themselves.
Charles, Erik sighs. You're being a little overdramatic. He hasn't gotten out of the speeder and is eyeing both the Jedi and Moira suspiciously, but he's still mostly relaxed, which means that they're relatively safe for now. Charles trusts Erik's instincts better than his own.
Charles turns to look at the blackened walls of the temple. They're just kids, he thinks sadly, hearing their laughter and chatter—subdued, yes, but there—behind him.
You can't protect them forever, Erik thinks, uncharacteristically gentle. It's a harsh world we live in, Charles. They have to grow up sometimes.
Believe me, I know that, Charles thinks sharply. It's just...the council was the one who leaked the location to the empire. Moira had told him, a bleak look in her eyes.
For a split second, he regrets revealing that to Erik, who had such hatreds and disdain for "normal" people and the Council especially, but he needn't have worried.
Oh Charles, Erik breathes his name, aloud, in his mind, it doesn't matter, because suddenly Erik's tugging on the thin connection between their minds and giving him what could only be described as a mental hug. You mustn't blame them and you mustn't blame yourself. It's not their fault or your fault. Maybe it's not even the Dark's fault or the empire's.
And Shaw? Charles has to ask, has to know. Erik's silent for a moment, mind whirling with thoughts that Charles doesn't read, is not sure he wants to read.
Maybe not even him, he says finally. Maybe it's just...the world. It's not anyone's fault; it's just the world we live in. Erik isn't bitter for once. He's just sad, Charles feels. Sad for the world, sad for Charles and himself and all the people living and dying in this broken, broken world.
You only want what's best for them, Erik murmurs. You only ever want the best for everyone, and they know that.
And suddenly Charles can't take it anymore, he's weeping and the echoes of screaming in the Force die down to a dull whisper, and it's all in his mind, the tears aren't even real, because he can't let his team who is depending on him to hold himself together see him break apart.
Shh, Charles, Erik thinks soothingly. It's alright, Charles. It's going to be alright.
...
Charles listens to the Jedi's reports on what had happened while they head to a safe house that Charles had prepared, just in case, using his own assets instead of the Council's, when he'd started the temple.
They'd attacked while he had been searching for Erik. He recalls the meeting and long argument he'd had with the Council over Erik's imprisonment and feels a stirring of anger that melts away as quickly as it had come, leaving a dully hurting question. Had they been plotting to betray him even while they had smiled and gave him reassurances? It doesn't matter now, he tells himself firmly, but the ache doesn't go away.
At least some of the other Force-users had escaped. They're survivors, staying at the temple for want of anywhere better to go, but too old and wary to become true Jedi. Those that had escaped had gotten the children out—not that the empire was particularly interested in a bunch of un-sensitive children anyways.
The real blow comes when they tell him about Angel.
"The Dark side is very persuasive," Erik says, face impassive.
The Jedi, to Charles's surprise, don't argue. When he relaxes his mind, he can feel the confused shame that each is feeling. They had all been tempted as well.
Charles feels the by-now familiar sense of guilt wash over him. Angel had arrived at the temple the most recent. He should have paid more attention to her, helped her more, done more to keep her on the side of the light...
Enough, Charles, Erik thinks sharply. She is allowed to make her own choices. We must respect that, no matter how much we may disagree.
And tone down on your guilt, he adds scathingly. You have to pull yourself together, Charles; we need you.
Charles blinks and glances over at Erik, who stares challenging back at him.
He swallows and forces himself to think. "And the others? The ones who didn't escape?" he asks.
"They were brought to a shuttle," Raven tells him.
"And from the shuttle to a prison ship most likely?" Charles asks. Erik nods shortly.
Despite the bleakness of their situation, Charles feels slightly relieved. Captured, not killed. The thought spins giddily around his head, plans of rescue already forming.
Erik places a steadying hand on his shoulder. "We have to get off-planet immediately," he says.
"Wouldn't it be better to wait? They'll be looking for us and if we just keep our heads down for awhile, hide out in the safe house, won't it be easier for us to sneak out?" Darwin asks.
Erik is already shaking his head. "No. We need to leave, and we need to leave now. You're right that they're looking for us, but when the empire looks for something, it doesn't do a half-assed job of it. They'd have put up a blockade by now and are probably combing the planet as we speak. Starting with the city near the temple."
"But—" Darwin tries, but it seems Erik has had enough of explaining himself.
"We don't have time for this," he snaps. "Our chances of running the blockade and getting off the planet are equal whether we try now or later. But the longer we try to hide, the greater the chance that they'll find us on the ground."
Alex looks mutinous. "It's your fault that they're here in the first place," he starts angrily, but Darwin puts a hand on his clenched fist.
"No, he's right," Darwin murmurs and Alex reluctantly subsides. Charles nods at Darwin gratefully and makes a mental note to have a chat with Alex, with all the Jedi, later.
He senses hesitation from Erik, a Maybe if, along with a heady sense of guilt that's quickly locked away, and Charles thinks a furious No at him. Erik blinks in surprise but thankfully turns his thoughts to focus on their situation once again. Good. Charles isn't going to lose anything more than he has lost already.
We need a ship," Erik says when they're sitting around a small table at the safe house. He'd grudgingly conceded to the Jedi's demand for rest and had given up his protests at staying anywhere even for a little while.
"How about the one we flew here in?" Charles suggests. "It's probably still where we left it."
Charles feels the exact moment Erik tries to reach out and see for himself. He's reached out before he knows what he's doing, steadying Erik's mental floundering. It's alright, he thinks to him, even though it really isn't.
When he settles back into his own mind, he finds everyone staring at Erik, who has his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched. He puts a hand on Erik's shoulder and he opens his eyes to look at Charles. We'll get it off soon, he thinks. "You're alright," Charles says aloud and Erik nods, visibly pulling himself together.
Moira meets his eyes over the table with a worried look. He smiles reassuringly back at her even though he could really do with some reassurance himself at the moment. Moira seems to sense that he needs some time to think and calm himself though, because she stands and asks if anyone wanted some food. Being as most of their group comprises of teenage boys, the table is quickly abandoned in favor of the kitchen. Charles follows them and accepts a flatcake and a mug of caf from Moira. He sits down and lets the sound of the Jedis' chatter wash over him.
"So…" Raven slides into the seat next to him and gives him a blinding smile. Charles smiles back warily. "What's up with you and Erik?"
Charles groans to himself. Not this again. "I don't really think this is the time—" he begins, but she interrupts him.
"Now is always the time," she says and suddenly she looks sad. They all freeze at the sound of a police siren in the distance. "Because there might not be a later."
Charles puts an arm around her and she leans against him. Suddenly she shakes herself and stands up. Giving him a gentle shove, she says, "Now, you're moping and he's moping—" she nods towards Erik where he's still sitting at the meeting table "—so take the advice of your much less socially embarrassing sister and go talk to him."
"How am I socially embarrassing?" Charles asks, pretending to be offended.
Raven laughs and shoves him toward Erik again. "You're my nerdy brother who somehow managed to bring a legend that existed only in those dusty old holobooks that you always had your nose buried in into life. I'm practically obligated to say you're socially embarrassing. Now go talk to him."
Erik looks up when Charles drops ungracefully into the seat next to him, although the reaction could possibly have been more caused by the smell of the caf Charles had placed in front of him than Charles himself. He doesn't say anything, just nods his thanks and wraps slightly unsteady hands around the hot mug and raises it to his lips. He looks rather miserable, Charles notes.
"How are you holding up?" Charles asks, after watching Erik drink the entire cup.
"Tired," Erik admits. His right hand strays toward his throat and hovers near the collar, not quite touching.
"I know," Charles says. True, most of the time of his experience with the Force-suppressor collars, he'd been screaming or unconscious, but between the time of their escape and Erik removing it for him, he remembers a sort of extra drag on his limbs, as if the very air was conspiring against him moving. It'd been easy to overexert himself then, easy to forget that he no longer had the Force to feed him strength. "You could take a nap," he suggests.
"Can't," Erik replies. His mind feels restless, uneasy. Charles stops himself from reaching out to sooth the ruffled edges; they need Erik to be alert tonight, no matter how miserable he is or how miserable it makes Charles to see him like this. One of the corners of Erik's mouth twitches up a bit, probably catching a corner of Charles's thoughts. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"How bad?" Charles asks.
"There's-a-Sith-patrol-right-outside-the-door-bad," Erik says, hand already on the hilt of his lightsaber. As if on cue, there's a sharp rapping on the door.
Charles quickly stands. I'll handle this. He looks hard at Erik, who's halfway out of his seat, mind whispering of blood. Erik. The rapping comes louder. Erik eyes him and reluctantly sits down. Charles pats his shoulder and beckons to Moira.
Act normally, he thinks to her. She nods, her face a mask of confidence while her mind screams with fear.
Moira opens the door a crack as the stormtrooper is about to knock again. She yawns and rubs her eyes. "Is there a problem?"
"We are looking for fugitives of the empire," the stormtrooper says curtly. "Why did it take you so long to open the door?"
"I was taking a nap upstairs," Moira replies. "I've had a long day." Luckily her clothes are rumpled enough from their earlier investigation of the temple for it to be a passable explanation.
The stormtrooper nods, seeming to accept it. "Mind if we take a look inside?" he says, making it sound like a command.
"Of course," Moira opens the door and Charles wishes he could spare a moment to calm her rising panic, but he has his hands full convincing an six stormtroopers that there's nothing to see in this house, that it's just like all the hundreds of other houses they've searched, and that they would really like to return to base for some well-deserved rest.
The stormtrooper peers around the sparse rooms and glances over the attic upstairs. "Thank you for your time, ma'am," he says to Moira before ordering his patrols to move out. Charles waits until they've moved on to the next house before relaxing.
Erik is staring at him in frank admiration and pats his knee in congratulations.
"That should keep us in the clear for a while," Charles says with satisfaction. It'd been easier to do the mind trick than he'd thought it would be. Maybe because he's been opening his mind more since he's met Erik.
"Only for a little while," Erik says, mind turning back to escape. "Can you shield us?" he asks Charles.
"To an extent," Charles replies. "Depending on how loud we are, how many people we need to be shielded from, how dark it is, that sort of thing."
Erik nods. "We should make for the ship now, while the house has just been checked by a patrol. I'm betting it hasn't been discovered yet."
"Why not?" Raven asks.
"It's in the mountains. They won't have searched their yet," Erik says, obviously not used to having his orders questioned. Charles mentally prods him to elaborate further. "If we assume they're searching for me, they'll assume I'll stay close to the city. More metal," he explains.
"If the Council has betrayed us, they might have told them about the Force-suppressor," Charles points out.
"I doubt the Sith gave them a chance to mention it. We're terribly arrogant," he adds. "Not to mention terrifying. More than once have we failed to complete a mission because we didn't bother to question informants thoroughly enough."
"Yes, alright," Charles says, breaking into Erik's musings of his past. It puts him ill at ease hearing Erik speak so casually of missions that had probably been the causes of the atrocities of the empire that fill the underground. Not to mention his use of "we" about the Sith. "Let's go."
It takes a grueling hour of near-misses, the odd sleeping person stuffed into a random alley, and ten minutes of Erik bending a gate for them to pass while two patrols stood right outside the alley and another ten for him to bend it back. The effort had nearly rendered him unconscious and Hank and Darwin had had to support him the rest of the way. And that had been merely getting out of the city.
Then there'd been the two hour hike that was often more like climbing until they reached the cave. They help Erik into a chair—he'd been able to walk the last hour, thank the Force—and Hank joins Charles in the cockpit. "I think," Hank observes, breathing hard. "We have a lot of training to do before we're ready to take on the empire."
Charles nods. "You all did a good job," he says. "But yes. There's definitely room for improvement."
"And now comes the hard part," Hank murmurs.
After Erik recuperates from the strain of using the Force while technically being cut off from it—the way his mind had thought of it had been akin to running a marathon breathing through a straw, which Charles doesn't even think is physically possible—he's so tense and irritable in the confined space that Charles finally suggests he go take a turn in the pilot's seat.
It turns out Erik is a terrible pilot when he can't access his powers.
"He's not allowed to pilot ever again," Sean says, slightly green. Charles has to agree—at least until they get the collar off though. Erik's the best pilot Charles has ever met when he can use his powers, and he has a feeling they'll need his skill if they meet the empire's TIE fighters. And there are so many patrolling the galaxy that it's almost impossible that they won't.
Raven points at the cockpit, where Erik is somehow managing to make them all spacesick while flying in a relatively straight line. "Get him out of there. Hank's the pilot from now on."
Charles lures Erik from the pilot's seat with hot caf, food, and the promise that the Jedi would be in the starboard quarters playing Pazaak. They sit in the kitchen for awhile, enjoying the silence and each other's company. Charles notices Erik's fingers straying absently toward his neck every so often while he drinks with his eyes shut. He feels a rush of self-reproach; removing the collar should have been the first thing he had done when he'd felt rested enough to try his idea.
The next time Erik's hand goes up to hover near the collar, Charles grabs it. Erik opens his eyes in surprise.
"I have an idea," Charles says, looking at the collar in distaste.
Erik lifts an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
Charles had thought about the problem of removing the collar in his spare moments. Usually, they would need a key, but as Erik had demonstrated, it's also possible using his powers as long as one was careful. It had occurred to him after he'd seen Erik bend the gate. Erik obviously still had some connection to the Force, and a little trickle of power is all he needs, really, to unlock the collar. In order to access that trickle required too much effort and concentration on his part though, to allow him to do the careful application he needed when unlocking the mechanisms within the collar. If, however, there was another to unlock while he accessed the Force, it would potentially be possible.
Erik considers the idea thoughtfully when Charles explains it to him. Charles knows his answer as soon as Erik decides that it has merit even though he continues to mull over the risks; Erik is desperate to be rid of the collar.
Charles smiles slightly when Erik agrees. "Wait," Erik says, as he prepares to enter Erik's mind. Can I trust you? the thought slips out, and it feels somehow like a plea.
Charles takes one of Erik's hands and brings it to his lips. Yes, he thinks, and into that little word, he pours what Erik means to him, images and feelings, and misgivings, yes, doubts and fears, but also hopes and maybe-one-days, and the trust he gives to Erik. Always.
Erik nods. "Time to get the blasted thing off then," he says, but his mind is bright with happiness.
…
Erik's power is utterly different from his own, Charles realizes. Where he works with already painted canvasses, every time Erik wields his power, it's on a blank piece of paper. Of course, with enough effort, Charles could change any mind into anything he wants. Minds already know what they are. Metal, though, metal is eager to be changed. He finds his control is better when he melds with Erik's subconscious a little. You can control metal down to its molecules? Charles thinks in wonder.
Erik gives a little mental shrug. I've never really thought about it that way, he replies. I know you're excited, Charles, but could you hurry up please? I don't think I can hold this longer than I held the gate.
Right, sorry, Charles thinks, abashed.
I promise we'll do this again someday, if you like.
I would like it very much. Erik can probably feel the delight he feels at the offer, but Charles doesn't really care. They had to get the collar off first, anyways. He forces himself to concentrate. There's a lot of little pieces of metal in the collar and Erik guides him through it as he describes the metal of the collar, occasionally taking a quick look in Charles's mind to see particularly difficult locks for himself. It's certainly a strange experience, Charles thinks distantly, to be in Erik's mind using Erik's power while Erik looks into Charles's mind to give advice.
They both start at the click of the collar when it unlocks. Erik goes to yank it off his neck but Charles takes his hand. May I?
Of course, comes the quick response.
Charles carefully wraps Erik's power around the collar and floats it off his neck to land in Charles's hand. He backs out of Erik's mind.
"You know we could have had Hank take it off," Charles says, a little breathlessly.
Erik grins at him. "But he's not the one I trust." His mind feels right again, full and whole and powerful.
Someday Charles will talk to him about his trust issues and his grudge against the world—understandable as they are. Someday he'll get Erik to see that there's more to life than revenge. More to Erik than being a weapon wielded by the Dark. "I promise we'll do this again someday, if you like." Someday...the word whispers like a promise between them.
But not today. Today he's just going to enjoy the new brightness of Erik's smile and the warmth and affection of his mind.
A/N: Will be crossposted to the Archive later. Unless it's already posted there. God the internet hates me so much. Hopefully this shows up?