It was strange how out of place he felt here now. A stranger trapped in a closed chapter of his life. Yet at the same time, everything was so familiar that it was difficult to believe he had been gone so long.
He glanced out of the window to see Sean practicing flight, reveling in the freedom that that ability gave him. Eric was responsible for that. Erik and, of course, Charles. The idea that it was theoretically possible had been Charles', but after his fall from the window Sean would never have made that leap if not for Erik's rather forceful hand on his shoulder.
So familiar were his surroundings that he felt that he could go downstairs to find Raven lifting weights in the gym or slouched in front of the TV. She had always appeared so comfortable here, in the place where she had grown up. She didn't seem way any more. More comfortable in her own skin, yes, but less so in her surroundings.
"How is Raven?"
Erik started. Charles' voice behind him. He reached for the helmet on the table in front of him and placed it on his head again before manipulating the metal in the wheelchair to spin himself around to face the telepath.
"Sorry," said Charles, sounding anything but. "Habit, I suppose."
Erik said nothing.
"If you take it off again, I promise to stay out," Charles offered. "Frankly, it looks ridiculous. Maybe for battle situations, but it's hardly appropriate everyday wear."
"I don't wear it every day," Erik told him. "Only when I need to protect my thoughts."
"Well, just so you know, it doesn't suit you one bit. And it gives you a terrible case of helmet hair."
Erik shook his head and bit back the comment that not everyone was as concerned with their hair as Charles. The conversation was beginning to feel a lot like their old banter, the gentle, affectionate teasing from the time when they had been friends.
We're still friends, his mind supplied. Erik blinked, half convinced for a moment that Charles had found some way to circumnavigate the barrier of the helmet and communicate telepathically through it. But no. The statement had come from his own mind.
"Is Daniel recovering?" He asked.
Charles frowned for a moment in confusion before he nodded. "The boy. I never even asked his name. Yes, he's still resting."
Erik nodded. The boy had told him that doing this would weaken him, but he had not realized by how much. He felt almost guilty, he had, after all, asked him to do this.
"And you?" Charles asked. "How are you?" He moved from the doorway, into the room and sat down on the desk chair. Erik immediately felt more comfortable. "Any pain?" Charles asked.
Erik shook his head. The complete absence of feeling was uncomfortable, but that was more an emotional discomfort. There was no physical pain. The idea had never even occurred to him. "Do you..?"
Charles shook his head. "Not really. Not any more. I keep it under control with a few exercises every day."
"Before we leave, you will have to show me," Erik stated
"I don't think that's going to be necessary," Charles told him. "You've taken something from me, Erik. Perhaps not something I particularly wanted, but nonetheless I don't intend to let you leave before you return it.
Erik frowned deeply. "I don't understand why you won't simply accept this," he said. "I did this to you. I didn't mean to do it, but still, I did. I should be the one to deal with the consequences of my actions, not you."
Charles shrugged. "Perhaps you're right," he said. "In an ideal world, no one should have to suffer for the actions of another, but this is far from an ideal world, Erik. You know that better than most."
"That is something I'm trying to change," Erik said. His fists clenched involuntarily as he spoke. "I'm trying to make the world a better place. A fairer one. How can I do that, knowing what I did to you?"
"Your fairer world would be fairer only to a select few," Charles said. "It's not a world I would like to live in. And as for how to live with yourself, I don't blame you for what happened. What I said that day, on the beach..." He paused, looking away, out of the window and over the grounds, but Erik got the impression that Charles was somewhere else entirely. "You're not responsible," he said finally. "It was an accident. The result of several things happening together at the wrong time. True, if you hadn't been trying to destroy the ships... but that's a discussion for another time, I think. Perhaps when things have been put right."
Erik shook his head. Charles was stubborn when he wanted to be. Even without the ability to read his mind, the telepath clearly knew his friend well enough to manipulate him effectively. But it wouldn't work. His mind was made up. "Things have been put right," he insisted.
Charles smiled sadly, rising to his feet to leave. "My friend, please," he said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "Every time you force me to turn down your gift, it becomes harder to do. I'm not strong enough to continue like this. Sooner or later, I'm going to stop fighting you and let you go. And that is something that neither one of us really wants. Thank you for the offer, and thank you for today, but tomorrow this needs to be undone."
"I saw you running," Erik said. He glanced toward the window, under which Charles had begun his jogging around the grounds.
"And as I said, thank you for that," Charles repeated. "But we both know this can't be permanent. Tell me you won't fight me over this."
Erik sighed thoughtfully. One hand traced the unfeeling flesh of his left thigh, and it was still so very, horribly strange. He closed his eyes and nodded, just once.
"Thank you," Charles said. "Now then, you can take off the helmet, you know I didn't influence your decision. Besides, I'm trying to instill some manners into the younger children. How would it look if you were allowed to wear that thing to dinner?"
Erik hesitated. The helmet was a useful tool, but it wasn't designed to be worn all the time. It got uncomfortable after a while.
Charles sighed. "I promise not to read your mind," he said. "Actually, in addition to teaching the students, I'm trying to tutor myself in a little self control."
Charles, who casually glanced at the thoughts of everyone he met without even thinking about it, who flicked through their memories like an old photograph album and made no secret of what he was doing. Self control? Erik wondered whether he had it in him. Taking a chance, he lifted the helmet from his head and placed it back on the table. It left him feeling exposed, but for some reason he did trust Charles.
"Thank you," Charles said. "Now, dinner. I must warn you, it's Sean's turn to cook."
Thinking back to undercooked potatoes smothered in tomato ketchup, Eric grimaced.
"He's improved slightly since then. Not much, but his meals tend to be edible now."
Erik shot him a look, trying to decide whether the telepath had already gone back on his promise, or whether that particular memory was simply too obvious not to be guessed. Charles appeared not to notice his reaction.
"Shall we?" he said.
Erik nodded. He glanced down at his paralyzed legs and the metal chair in which he sat. Even using his power to force the chair in the right direction, his movement had been clumsy and the unfamiliar motions required to turn the wheels had been awkward and uncoordinated. "I'll meet you down there." he said.
Charles gave him a look that made him feel his privacy had been violated once again, but he nodded, and left without saying a word.