Chapter Twelve...and I've been very patient with not vomiting all chapters that I have written. I own nothing.
The first part is six months before the "current time." The rest is "current time."
And angst ahoy.
Charles was exhausted. He had been using Cerebro for the last several hours and he couldn't find any sign of the younger Summers. Charles, however, the foresight to start listing possible mutants to recruit for the school and when he pulled the helmet off his head, Charles saw the list of print-outs. He groaned internally. (This will have to be dealt with tomorrow.)He glanced around the large circular room and saw Hank asleep in the monitoring room. Charles chuckled before wheeling himself to the room.
"Hank," Charles said gently waking up the scientist. "Hank," Charles said again.
"Huh? What? Oh! I'm so sorry, Professor!" Hank said his face coloring ever so slightly under his blue fur. "You should have woken me."
"I did. From here," Charles said, his tired eyes crinkling in amusement.
"Ah, so you did," Hank said rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Time for the both of us to get some real sleep," Charles answered and moved towards the exit.
Hank only yawned again and followed him out.
Moira was asleep when Charles arrived in their bedroom. He slipped into bed trying not to disturb her. He was weary and Charles knew that Moira was weary as well. How long was he going to keep up this pretense before it destroyed them both? He sighed and thought about what he needed to do to keep both of their sanities whole.
Charles was too wrapped up in his thoughts to have never noticed that Moira was only faking her sleep, silent tears slipped out of her eyes and onto her pillow.
Erik Lehnsherr now felt like an incomplete man. Who was he without the revenge? Who was he without his rage? He had lost his self, his identity and really his mind in the camps. He thought he had lost his capacity to love there as well. It turned out though, that he had not. His heart belonged to a man in a wheelchair with eyes that were too blue, too trusting, too ready to forgive. And if he thought about it, part of his heart also belonged to a human woman nearby. But Erik never thought about it, too shocked to think about the possibilities.
Erik knew that Charles would eventually forgive him – it was just in his nature. But Erik was not sure if he could ever forgive himself. He knew that he was broken and that no amount of love from someone else could truly "fix" him if hecould not fix himself. Erik squeezed his eyes shut and slumped against a brick wall. Self-awareness, self-introspection and to a certain extent, self-love belonged to people who knew their own minds. And Erik Lehnsherr no longer knew his own mind…or his heart.
He had a moment of hesitation after leaving Moira's apartment. For the split second he wanted to turn back and beg her forgiveness. He knew though, that Moira would not forgive him – if ever. Erik had put her through hell too many times for Moira to forgive him so easily.
"Moira," Erik said icily. She had just come out of Charles' study with her battle plans in hand for the upcoming confrontation with Shaw.
"Erik," Moira said just as icily. Moira knew that she would never be one of Erik Lehnsherr's favorite people. She was just too common and human for him. What interested him, though, sat thoughtfully in the room behind her, chewing on what she had said to him. Moira knew of Erik's desire to murder Shaw outright and the more she knew about Lehnsherr, the more she could not blame him. She would be almost willing to turn a blind eye while he killed Shaw, but seeing Charles' reaction to that statement made Moira change her mind and swallowed her thoughts.
Erik purposefully bumped his shoulder against Moira's shoulder, sending her schematics, papers and other assorted paraphernalia flying all over the hallway in front of the study. Moira cried out in pain and before she could rebuke Erik for his childishness, Erik had neatly shut the door in her outraged face.
Erik would not be begging forgiveness from Moira MacTaggert today. He walked through the city trying to clear his head and plan his next course of action. But nothing concrete came to mind. Erik had not known it then, but his need for revenge died when the bullet lodged itself in Charles' back. The looks of horror on everyone's faces belatedly confirmed the truth of Erik's actions: that he was willing to become the same monster that Shaw was – even at the expense of someone he deeply loved.
The thought nearly crushed Erik.
It was mid-afternoon when Erik finally stepped into his rented room. He stopped mid-stride and stared around him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Instantly, he knew something was off. While nothing was out of place, there was an overwhelming sense of severe transgression. He felt the goose bumps forming on his arms. His ears strained for anything out of the ordinary. Erik narrowed his eyes and scanned the room quickly. His papers of Moira's schedules, drawings of her face, everything he had accumulated while stalking her were subtly shifted around. His things were slightly out of place. Someone, obviously, wanted him to think that nothing was strange.
They were obviously doing a bad job of it.
Erik also knew that someone else was still in the room with him.
He pulled out a bit of metal from his pants pocket and quickly fashioned it into something lethal.
"I know you're still in here," Erik said dangerously low and angry. "Come out."
A soft masculine sigh escaped from the person hidden in his bathroom. The person, a man, stepped out of his bathroom. He was a tall man – almost as tall as Erik, with dark hair, a square jaw, and eyes that radiated cruelty and smugness. Erik's eyes narrowed. The intruder reminded Erik of Sebastian Shaw.
"I was hoping we would be able to talk without coming to violence," the man said in a flat and unassuming accent.
"What do you want," Erik said feeling for bits of metal on the man's body.
"I wanted to see if I could employ your services," he said cautiously, aware of what Erik was doing.
"For what," Erik spit out. "You're running out of time before I decide to kill you."
"There's no need for violence, my friend," he said. Erik noted the slight panic in the voice and inwardly smiled.
"Don't call me that," Erik said automatically. (No one calls me 'my friend.')
"Fair enough," the other man said. "My name is Dr. Bolivar Trask and I am interested in researching mutants, like yourself," Trask said gesturing to Erik.
"How did you find me?" Erik bit out. He could feel the metal in the room beginning to vibrate dangerously, melting and reforming itself into something sharp and very, very dangerous. Trask obviously did not know how powerful and dangerous Erik could be.
Trask swallowed nervously finally catching on to what was happening. "I have my contacts," he stuttered.
"The CIA," Erik stated. Trask could hear the metal.
"No," Trask said, trying to keep a calm voice.
"Interpol," Erik said. He could feel his anger rising.
"No," Trask said. Some of the smugness came back into his voice, but not all.
"Then who," Erik said, his voice remaining steely.
"People who would like to remain quiet," Trask said, the fear and doubt creeping back into his voice.
"If you can't even tell me who you work for, then why the fuck would I want to work for you?" Erik pierced him with his gaze. "Get out," Erik said, the door swiftly opened, almost being pulled off the hinges.
"Mr. Lehnsherr," Trask said trying a different tactic. The hairs on his neck would not settle.
"I'm going to give you five seconds before I snap and kill you withoutusing my abilities."
Trask swallowed again. He pulled out a business card and placed it on top of Erik's papers. "If you ever change your mind, here's my information." Trask swiftly left the room leaving Erik to his murderous thoughts.
It was only after five full minutes that the metal in the room stopped vibrating.
Trask only relaxed when he was safely parked in his temporary office, away from prying eyes…and minds. He took out a hand written list and crossed off another name.
Erik swiftly emptied the room, stuffing his belongings into the satchel and flung it across his chest. He needed to leave. He had spent too much time focusing his energy on Moira and now someone had gotten close enough to invade his space. He felt disgusted with himself but he knew that he could not legitimately blame Moira for this. Erik knew that he should have known better. He should have known not to spend so much time in one place. He should have known not to get so close.
Erik's first instinct was to torch his room but he knew that would only leave more suspicions and possibly force more people into finding Charles.
And he knew that he had to protect Charles, even if Charles liked it or not. Erik passed a guilty and trembling hand through his hair. Now, he felt the need to protect Moira MacTaggert as well. Erik bit back a frustrated sigh, cursing himself and Moira.
Before leaving the room, Erik pulled out pen and paper and started writing.
Moira received Erik's letter a day later.
Charles received Erik's other letter two days after Moira's.
Moira found the letter tucked into the mail slot. She knew who it was from even before she opened it. Moira twirled the letter in her hands, trying to decide if she should open it now or later. She didn't want to know what he had to say to her; Moira briefly thought about burning the letter without opening it. But at the same time, the curiosity was just too much for her. Moira opened the letter and scanned the contents.
Tears fell from her eyes once again.
She cursed Charles Xavier.
She cursed Erik Lehnsherr.
She cursed herself.
Dear Moira,
I don't deserve your forgiveness. But if you could find it within yourself to do so, then please forgive me.
I'm sorry for everything that I've ever done to do.
I'm sorry for how I treated you.
I'm sorry for Charles.
I'm sorry, Moira.
EL
"Professor! The mail's here," Sean said sorting the mail quickly. He handed the stack to Charles with the letter on top.
"Thank you, Sean," Charles said and absently fingered the letter. (This handwriting looks familiar.)
"Do you need anything?" Sean asked taking an apple out of his pocket.
Charles smiled. "No, I don't. But perhaps, another trip to the grocery store might be in order, yes?"
Sean blushed. "Umm…perhaps," Sean said sheepishly. "I'll start making a list."
"Thank you," Charles said amused. He watched as the younger mutant left Charles to his own devices in the study. He looked at the handwritten letter again and a sudden feeling of dread overcame him. He did a quick mental scan of the others in the house (Alex, check. Hank, check. Sean, check.) and planted suggestions to leave him alone for the rest of the morning. He then took his letter opened and slid it under the flap of the envelope and pulled out the letter. (Erik. Damn, you. Why are you writing to me?)
Dear Charles,
I don't understand where things went so wrong, how I lost control of all what I believed in. I realized not too long after….I left how much…how much I loved, no love you. And although I can never truly feel deserving of your love and friendship, I will spend the rest of my life trying to be deserving of you.
Erik
Charles simply let the note fall from his hand as the tears slipped down his face. (Never again. Never again. Never again.)
I understand that I am writing this for myself now. That's okay.
Reviews are nice, but not necessarily required.
