6
A secretive, proud smile on his face, Charles watched the two young people out on the tennis court with pleasure that was hard to match, the laughing redheaded girl batting gently with one hand to send a little metal sphere zipping back, the tall silver-haired boy sending it back to her with a flick of his fingers. Telekinetic tennis, he thought, why have I never tried that?
The change that had come over the boy in the couple of months since he can come to the school was remarkable. Though he still wore his long, wavy hair mostly across his face, he was no longer a complete stranger to a comb and seemed to be holding his head a little higher. No longer hiding himself away in the library between classes, occasionally joining the others in the common room – though he was still quiet, shy, and easily startled, and seemed at complete ease only in Jean's company. Shoulders not so hunched, eyes less shadowed and skin less pale, he seemed taller and healthier than he had been, and although he still would not be parted from his uniform of baggy black clothing, he seemed slightly less self-conscious in the combat suit they had fitted him out with now, not so inclined to hug his arms around himself protectively. A little more at ease with himself, perhaps. He even smiled a little more than he had done – even more so since Hank had helped him find a good dentist who had helped repair the chip in his front teeth and some of the damage.
Engaged in watching the contented pair, Charles nonetheless became aware of the presence behind him as soon as Erik had entered the room, strode out onto the balcony to stand behind the chair.
"He's doing very well, don't you think?" he said, heard only a huffy little noise in reply, "Come now Erik, you must see how much better he is"
"I was not aware he was ill, Charles" the other man replied drily, "Unless being chronically moody and insolent counts as an illness"
Charles sighed heavily, turned his chair to face his old friend, gave him a pitying look
"He's more than you think of him, you know" he said calmly, "You just see a rebellious teenager who wants to fight you. He's more than that"
"Yes, I know. His mother tells me he's even capable of being pleasant at times. Just apparently not towards his father. How is his training going?"
"Very well. Jean is an excellent mentor, he's gaining more control of his powers all the time"
"He's also gaining weight" Erik said, watching his son below. Charles scoffed at him
"That will do him no harm at all, I promise you. Besides he has just given up smoking – isn't that fairly usual?"
Erik only made another noncommittal grunt. Watched the pair below them for a while in silence. Peter did seem to be doing well at controlling his gift, even beginning to show off a little, trying to catch Jean out by making the sphere curve and dart around, amusing her. At last they had finished the game, come together at the net and stood chatting. Peter looked happier than he had ever seen him, something about him more settled. Though Erik had no clue of what his son had been going through, he did know a troubled mind when he saw one, and was glad that Jean had taught him a little discipline.
"Remind you of anything?" Charles teased, "A telepath and a metallokinetic, each teaching one another and learning together. Becoming better together?"
Erik smiled grimly back at him. Watched the young pair walking off together, Jean lightly pulling at his son's arm, seeming to want to persuade him into something.
"Perhaps" he conceded. Paused. "It's strange to think we were once so young too. So naiive"
"I assure you, old friend, neither Jean nor Peter are at all naiive."
Charles had retreated back into his study, leaving Erik watching from the balcony. Jean had evidently failed to persuade Peter in whatever she had wanted, leaving him standing watching her walk off. Turning to return to the mansion however, he had chanced to look up and see his father on the balcony. Erik thought of waving, but saw the ferocious scowl cloud his son's face and his quickly averted eyes, the way he quickened his pace and soon went out of view. Perhaps things were improving, but it seemed he still hadn't learned to respect his father any more.
"Do you really want him to respect you?" Charles called from inside. Erik returned to the study with him, took a seat. Steepled his fingers and regarded the Professor.
"Are you about to pronounce some great words of wisdom, Charles?" he showed his teeth in an unpleasant sharkish smile, "Do go on"
"And you wonder where Peter gets his sharp tongue from" Charles laughed lightly, "The two of you are far more alike than either of you would ever confess"
"I could take great offence to that"
"But you won't," Charles was serious now, leaning back in his chair, fixing Erik with his gaze, "Because really, you'd like to get along with Peter. You'd like to be a good father, but you feel like he won't let you. I don't need to read your mind to know that"
"The boy's a mess," Erik grunted, "That's why I brought him here, before he got himself locked up. I'd like a son I could be proud of, Charles, I was rather hoping you'd give me one"
"You can be proud of him any time you want to. You're quite right, he *is* a mess, but he's sorting things out for himself. I didn't do that, neither did Jean. Peter did it by himself, we just provided the environment where he could"
"Well I'm happy for him. Just give him back when he's clean, sober, and preferably after a haircut."
"No" Charles said simply. Erik stared at him.
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I mean, Erik, that I won't be 'giving him back' at all. He's seventeen, and a very mature seventeen at that. If he wants to go home, or spend his time with you, then I shall quite gladly let him. But he's not mine to give. Neither is he yours. He's not a child anymore. Don't treat him like one"
Erik didn't say another word. Rose from his chair, tight-lipped with fury, and slammed the study door behind him.
"Goodbye, Erik," Charles sighed quietly to himself, "Lovely to see you as always."
