Chapter 7 - Phoenix

Present

When Raven bursts through the doors uninvited a couple of hours later she flushes to her natural blue form in utter surprise at seeing the metal manipulator wrapped possessively around her brother's smaller frame. Charles is deeply asleep, but Erik's eyes sneak open, and he gives her a wicked smirk. She swallows watching the metal marbles (which she had not even seen coming towards her) return to the metal manipulator's palm.

She retreats and slams the door shut behind her, returning a moment later. "You'd better treat him well understand - I'll be watching you!" She warns softly. Charles remains blissfully asleep curled against him and Raven blinks when her brother stirs restlessly murmuring her name. Erik runs his fingers through her brother's hair, and watching him Raven's anger fades into quiet understanding.

Sleep Liebling all is well, Erik gently commands unable to tear his gaze from the younger man's relaxed features. Once...in the longest hours of Erik's life he had believed that the younger man was gone lost to him, claimed by fire - something which no matter how hard Erik raged against, he could do nothing against in return. He had never felt so helpless.

Charles's soft even breaths are tickling Erik's chest, and the metal manipulator's arm is tingling with a growing numbness beneath the younger man's head, but both are very dear reminders that Charles is alive. He is real. Since that first morning of suspicion so long ago Erik has always had trouble tearing his gaze away from the younger man. It is habit now to carefully catalogue the changes that have taken place in his friend. Like himself Charles's body is a weapon, lean and muscled, and oh so perfectly tight...a perfect fit beneath him. Perfection. Carefully shifting Erik frees his trapped arm and settles the younger man down against the soft surface.

Charles grumbles at the sudden loss of warmth, slowly waking to the butterfly kisses pressed along his collar bone, and moving up to trace the line of his jaw. Half asleep he bats at the insect, only to be met with a deep rumble of laughter. He blinks in confusion staring at the blurred figure leaning over him before his mind reconnects with reality, and processes the warm familiar mental presence enfolding his mind.

"Erik?" he asks and is startled at the rough cracked whisper that emerges from his throat. The metal manipulator laughs again, low and amused, and those bright green eyes are roaming over Charles's body as though Erik is about to devour him for breakfast. He flushes. "Good morning meine Schatz," Erik's wicked grin widens as he captures the younger man's wrists, pinning them in one hand above his head.

Charles gasps left breathless as the taller man presses down against him, deliciously trapping him as those sensuous lips work open his mouth, and leave him shuddering. Then Erik pulls back, and runs a hand through his hair as he gets his own breathing back under control, "Breakfast? You're right that sounds a good idea."

He ducks the first pillow, and makes it to the bathroom door laughing as Charles tears after him - second pillow in hand. Erik takes control of the younger man's wrists - slowing him enough to pluck the pillow out of his grasp, and throw it back into the bedroom. Blinking Charles has by now realised that he did not naturally stumble, and glowers up at the taller man. "Just where I want you," the metal manipulator smirks in his deep gravely tone, pressing the now flustered telepath back against the tiled wall. "You...you..." Charles's protests are cut off into a low groan. A sound that Erik finds he likes very much.

He is making breakfast when the shapeshifter next comes upon him. Moira looks up from her morning paper to greet Raven, nodding with bemusement to Erik. "Meet our maestro over there," the agent grins, "seems metal moving isn't his only talent." Erik flashes a wide sharks grin at her which dissipates when Charles enters the room with a small yawn on his lips, and runs a hand tiredly through his hair. He blinks taking in the domestic scene still evidently half sleep from the black poloneck jumper he has on - its too long sleeves pooling adorably round his elbows.

Moira stares, and Raven smirks at the agent's surprise. It was hard to see beneath the layers of clothing her brother normally wore, but underneath it all Charles was as toned and muscled as Erik's obvious hard lines. The metal manipulator too clearly liked the view from the way his gaze lingers. I see you like my clothes, Erik smirks fighting the urge (because of Moira's too knowing gaze), to simply kiss him. Its my jumper, Charles sends back drowsily and Erik grins, if you like. He looks to where Raven is eyeing Charles speculatively, and Erik can see he is going to have a willing accomplice in redesigning the telepath's wardrobe.

There is a loud clatter from the other end of the table, and everyone turns to look at Moira. She clears her throat after an awkward silence, "Well I'll leave you to it then," she announces dryly swallowing the last dregs of her cup before shoving back her chair and walking out the room.

"You need to be more careful," Raven rebukes, "Though I think you're doing things the wrong way round Erik, you're supposed to do the wooing part first," Raven continues grinning slyly at Erik, and clearly enjoying the deepening flush in her brother's cheeks. "Raven!" he groans, and Erik chuckles, letting his hands rest on Charles's shoulders as he guides the smaller man to a chair.

Her brother looks a bit overwhelmed by the mountain of food in front of them. You need to eat liebchens, the metal manipulator sends softly to them both. When did you learn to cook? Charles asks staring at the feast. Erik smiles wickedly, wherever I travelled I would pick up something. Charles swallows, as the metal manipulator sets various trays down in front of him, observing with wide eyes the sheer amount that is being stuffed on their plates by various flying metal implements. Raven watches in wide eyed bemusement.


Fifteen Years Earlier

The fire has completely gutted the mansion, leaving nothing behind but a skeletal stone shell. It is barely 6 months following Brian Xavier's death, and the man now speaking with his mother is from the intelligence service. A man named Kurt Marko who previously worked with Charles's father. He is saying that Brian's death was no accident, and the fire was meant to be a warning to Kurt to give up his research.

Looking to her children huddled together against the cold Sharon is quick to agree that its best if they just disappear. Their deaths can easily be reported back, and seeing the complete devastation of the building it is difficult to understand how any of them did get out.

Easy to see that they weren't meant to.


Wrapped in blankets from the cold, Raven can only stare in silent disbelief at the ruin as she grips Charles's hand tightly in her own, worrying over Charles's lethargic state. She knows he did something...something like when he put her to sleep to get them all out of the burning building. It frightens her to realise that if he wanted no one could stop him. Not even herself.

Sharon and Kurt are still quietly talking as Charles shrugs off the blankets and gets to his feet. "What are you doing?" she demands following after him. "We're going away," Charles explains, digging in his pockets for the usual boy scout scraps he carries around. He pulls out a small scrap of paper, and a half chewed pencil. "Away?" she asks in surprise following him as he makes his way unnoticed towards the small bricked up well. One of the bricks was hollow - their hidden post box. When they were younger they used to leave small handwritten notes for each other, safely tucked inside.

There's nothing there now, but Charles is quietly scribbling on his paper, "Away?" she asks again. He nods, "Yes - this very night. They're going to say we died." She blinks in surprise, "What - why? Where are we going?" He doesn't answer a moment, and she leans down to tear the paper from his grasp. "Raven!" he gasps in surprise, leaping to his feet. She's already read it by then, "Erik? Erik?" she holds it aloft above his head in sudden anger, "We've been over this Charles. Erik doesn't exist."

She folds her hand over his own, "Let it go Charles."

Had it really all just been a dream? Some days it seemed so, a blur of confusion in a perfect Alice in Wonderland adventure. Charles looks down at the bracelet on his wrist. Could he have made it himself? Was he really so delusional? It had felt so real...so vivid...and now just an echo - a lingering ghost of reality. Erik was he created by Charle's own mind? Charles was able to alter people's perception and change their memories. He had done so with mother, creating for her the pefect daughter in Raven. Was he now deluding himself?

Some days it seemed impossible, Erik was just too perfect to strong his voice...could Charles really have made all that up? Everything had seemed so clear once, but now he was no longer certain. He remembered Dover's gleaming white cliffs standing so strong, and Logan's grip on his hand as he fell to his knees, but beyond that...was pain. He had tried to show Raven, show her just how real Erik was to push past the pain and look at the memories of their journey into freedom...but she did not believe the other boy was real, and without showing her the darkness of his captivity Charles was not certain how to convince her otherwise. As the days passed even the other boys form was beginning to fade, and Charles was terrified he would forget.

Raven even pointed out that Logan may just have been a projection from Charles's mind to help him feel safe. Even the bracelet on Charles's wrist was not proof of Erik's existence. Not really. Afterall, Charles had demonstrated some ability in calling metal to his will on his return. "Charles I don't want to lose you," she swallows softly. He knew Raven was frightened. She thought he was losing himself losing his mind, of his power, and frightened of losing him again. She was frightened of the half seen things he could not help projecting in nightmare, of things he could not show her. Things he had sworn to protect her from.

"You won't," he assures softly, "You won't lose me Raven."

He lets her draw him away from the well, the small scrawled letter floating behind them as though captured by the wind.


The cold ruin loomed before him in powerful gloating victory.

Erik had failed.

He had watched Charles's tears as first Victor stalked away after Logan refused to let him kill the mercenaries who would have slit all their throats in the night. Erik had felt a sharp kinship with Victor, and Logan's gaze had burned with a too knowing light as they fixed upon him. "He'll be back - always turns up like a bad penny," Logan had grumbled awkwardly patting Charles's shoulder.

Victor didn't return.

Then it had been Erik standing alone on the dock, watching the boat carrying Charles (entirely too small as he stood beside Logan), grow smaller and smaller, the white cliffs of England's shores seeming to judge Erik in silent disproval.

Logan had been right. Erik had let Charles go - too intent on his own revenge, and now...he was gone. Erik would never see him again, and poor poor Raven - so young. He would never get to meet her now.

Perhaps it was a mercy.

Schmidt would never get his hands on Charles again or learn just how much power he had once had within his grasp.

With a startled aching gasp Erik jerks awake. He's resting beneath a makeshift shelter in overgrown gardens. In front of him looms the blackened ruin of the once luxurious mansion. He hadn't been able to walk away from the proof that Charles was real. He had existed, and the reason he was had been taken from Erik. He wipes the tears from his eyes.

What kind of fire could burn its way through such solid stone?

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as ghostly childlike laughter echoes in his ears. A delighted joyful laugh. His memory playing tricks? Charles had shared so many memories with Erik - so easily and openly that they felt like his own. There - that tree, Raven had climbed to the very top, and once showered Charles with badly aimed apples. Erik's feet perfectly trace the pathways that smaller feet had trodden in games of hide and seek, tag, doctors, nurses, cowboys, indians...all the while that ghostly laughter trickles hauntingly in his ear.

He stops in front of a crumbled circular wall...the old well.

Raven and Charles's postbox.

With trembling hands, and scarsely knowing what he was doing Erik reaches with perfect precision almost as though Charles is there whispering in Erik's ears...and the tears are blurring his vision now as he lifts the hollow brick in his hands.

He daren't turn it over. He must.

What if...what if...

There's something inside.

A small scrap of folded paper...and...oh...

Erik roughly wipes the tears from his face, preventing any more moisture blotting the surface.

To Erik, from Charles X,

In the most perfect curling handwriting. Charles's handwriting. No forgery.

Everyone thinks we are dead, but I can't let you think that.

Nothing can be further from the truth, we have gone to America...

It changes nothing. It changes everything.

Schmidt is going to die. Erik is going to kill him. He is going to do whatever it takes to protect his family.

Then.

Erik is going to find Charles and his sister Raven.