This is by far the longest chapter I have written. It takes place mostly in the present—well, sort of. For those of you who keep up with the random one-shots I post every now and again, you'll recognize this chapter. Also, if you want the full story behind the first of these 'memories', feel free to read The Winter of Our Discontent. If you don't want to read the story, I summarize it here so you won't get confused.
Edit:I went back and added a line-break. Sorry for the mistake!
Perks of Being a Telepath
Chapter 25: Memories
A rush of sound, wind, and pain hit Erik like a freight train before he even had the chance to fully open his eyes. He let out an involuntary gasp as his eyes flew open.
He froze as he recognized instantly where he was.
Dark, frost covered trees stood before him, their shadows casting ominous shadows on the snow-dusted ground. The sound of gunfire faded in and out of the constant roaring wind in a bone chilling melody. Somewhere nearby, Erik could just make out the sound of harsh, ragged breathing and softer, saddened whispers.
He was in Washington, near the border between the United States and Canada.
The last time he had been here, both he and Charles had almost died. It had been a cold, bloody fight between Charles, Erik, and the CIA's brainwashed mutants and government agents.
Charles and Erik had been on a recruiting excursion, similar to the one they took during the events preceding Cuba. They had found another telepath—something Charles had always hoped for, since the events in Texas—but were instantly in a race with the CIA to see who could get to the mutant first.
Charles and Erik had gotten lucky—or so they had thought. They reached the telepath, a woman in her early twenties who was halfway decent at reading minds, before the CIA. Unfortunately, the CIA caught up with them and wound up forcing to flee. Apparently, the woman telepath had been working for the CIA in attempts to capture both Charles and Erik.
The retreat had led them across the dark, snow covered forests of western Washington, which reminded Erik all too much of Poland, with the bitter cold and the harsh winds and the constant fear that one of them might be killed.
They made it close to the Canadian border, where Charles had hoped and prayed they would lose the CIA, before disaster struck.
Erik was shot, failing to see the bullet coming for him before it hit him square in the shoulder.
Charles had been injured as well, but Erik hadn't found that out until much later. Not until after they had been rescued and the idiot had almost died of shock from a bullet wound in his abdomen.
"Erik?"
The soft voice broke the metal bender out of his trip down memory lane. He turned, not at all surprised to find Charles standing behind him. As far as Erik could tell, this was one of Charles' memories and the telepath had sucked Erik right on inside of it.
It was the real Charles, not the one from the memory.
"Charles."
The telepath looked at him in surprise.
"What are you doing here?"
Erik shrugged.
"This is your head. You tell me."
Charles looked around, his blue eyes wide with astonishment. He shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily. He opened them a few moments later and once more met Erik's gaze. He looked almost scared.
"You shouldn't be here."
"You were the one who brought me here."
"It's dangerous. Too dangerous. Do you know what could happen to you?"
"I didn't have a say in the matter, Charles. Believe me, I'd rather not be inside your head."
"This is wrong. I shouldn't be able to do this. You shouldn't be here."
"What happened, Charles?"
Charles shook his head again in agitation.
"I don't know."
"You have to know something."
"This is the first time something like this has ever happened to me. I've heard about it in other telepaths, but I've never actually witnessed it happen."
"What has happened?"
Charles was silent for a moment.
"For whatever reason, I brought you inside my subconscious."
He looked like he was about to say more, but promptly stopped and looked away. There was a soft groan a few feet away. Erik realized it was his own.
"Why did you choose here, of all places, Charles?"
Charles pressed his lips together.
"I don't know."
The lie was evident in the way Charles' voice shook and he refused to meet Erik's gaze.
"Charles…"
Erik trailed off as realization crashed over him. Charles hadn't expected either of them to make it through that night in Washington. He had admitted as much months later when they had finally gotten around to discussing what had happened. It had been a well timed miracle on Sean's part that had saved them.
Charles wasn't expecting to live through this.
"You're a moron."
The words were out of Erik's mouth before he could stop them.
Charles looked slightly taken aback before he sighed heavily. He ran a hand through his hair.
"No, I'm a realist."
Erik took two steps forward, closing the gap between them, and placing his hands on Charles' shoulders.
"You don't get to give up, Charles. After everything we've been through, you don't get to give up on me. Not now."
Not ever.
Charles gently removed Erik's hands and took a step back.
"You don't get to decide that, my friend."
Erik's now empty hands clenched into fists.
"You brought me here for a reason. Whatever that is, I'm here now and I'm sure as hell not going to let you die."
His voice cracked on the final word and he looked away.
Charles sighed heavily.
"Erik, there's nothing you can do except break this connection and save yourself."
"No."
Erik looked back at Charles, squaring his shoulders and glaring defiantly. Charles crossed his arms and glared stonily back.
"You're being utterly ridiculous, Erik."
"You made me leave you behind once, Charles. I'm not doing it again."
"I could order you to leave."
"I don't think your powers work like that."
"Now would be the opportune time to find out."
"Don't."
Charles sighed.
"We've had this argument, Erik. We both know how it's going to end."
"Why do you want to give up?"
Fear flashed across Charles' face so quickly that Erik thought he might have imagined it.
"I'm not giving up. I'm accepting the inevitable."
"Which is called giving up. I want to know why."
Charles turned and started walking away. Erik wasn't going to let his friend go so easily. He stormed after him, belatedly realizing that it was useless, for Charles stopped a few moments later beside an all too familiar scene.
Erik longed to look away. He had already lived through this once, god damn it. He shouldn't have to deal with it all over again. The pain in his shoulder that never quite went away, even two years after the fact. The realization that help wouldn't get there in time, if it got there at all. The ever growing feeling of numbness as the cold overtook everything in the end, even the pain, and pushing him over the edge into darkness. The horror upon awakening and finding out that Charles might not make it…
He clamped down on those thoughts and forced himself to study the scene. Charles had obviously fixated on this moment in time for a reason. No matter how painful it was for Erik to relive, he realized that it must have been twice as hard for Charles.
The telepath—the one in the present—looked lost as he stared at the image in front of him. His past self was leaning against a tree, one arm thrown around Erik in a purely protective manner. His eyes were half open, glazed with pain and cold. Erik noticed it now, his mind clear from his own pain from that night. He wondered in retrospect how he could have ever missed the fact that Charles was so obviously hurt in the first place.
Erik's past self was slumped against Charles' shoulder, already unconscious. His breathing was slow and shallow, barely noticeable and not at all audible over the wind, the gunshots, and Charles' own harsh breaths.
"I'm sorry, my friend. I never meant for this to happen."
The overwhelming sadness and pain in the past Charles' voice almost broke Erik, and for the briefest of moments, he was glad that he was not conscious to hear that. The words were heart breaking, clear evidence that Charles had given up the one thing that had made him strong—his hope.
Past Charles coughed, a dark liquid clearly splattering the back of his hands.
Erik couldn't take watching this anymore, even though he knew the outcome, even though he knew Charles lived. He tore his eyes away, squeezing them shut.
A soft hand rested on his shoulder. Erik didn't have to open his eyes to know that it belonged to the present Charles.
Erik shrugged it off, taking a few steps away as he struggled to gain control of his emotions. He swallowed around the large lump in his throat and forced himself to speak.
"You still haven't told me why you're giving up."
He was determined to find out the reason and fix it before it was too late for Charles once more. Erik refused to give up on Charles, even if the idiot had already given up on himself.
Charles sighed heavily, looking back at the scene from the past. Erik didn't follow his gaze, keeping his eyes focused firmly on the real Charles.
"I don't know what Stryker did to that machine. Whatever it was… it was beyond imaginable, Erik. The things that I saw… the things that I did. It was too much. It is too much."
"What happened, Charles?"
Charles squeezed his eyes shut, visibly shaking. Erik stood there, frozen with a longing to comfort the telepath but at a complete and utter loss as to how he should.
Charles took a deep breath before answering.
"The machine was powerful. Too powerful. It acted as an amplifier, magnifying my powers to the point that if I came into contact with any consciousness, it would be erased. My own consciousness would simply overpower it and erase it. As if it had never existed."
A powerful shudder ripped through Charles. Erik noticed that in response, the trees and ground started shaking as well as Charles' reconstructed memory began to react to the tumultuous emotions of its host.
Charles pressed on, either completely unaware of the effect his emotions were having, or unaffected by it.
"I couldn't stop it. I tried, but I was powerless to stop it. I touched thirty-three minds—other mutants' minds—and they're all gone. Dead."
His voice, which had been shaking violently, broke completely on that last word.
Erik reached out and grasped Charles' shoulder with one hand, hoping to anchor the telepath and let him know that it was all right, but Charles refused to have any comfort. He shook the hand off in a rage, whirling around to face Erik. As he did so, the scene around them changed abruptly.
"Don't!"
The word, full of self-hatred and so much pain, barley registered in Erik's mind as he took in the sights of their new location.
It was a beach. No, Erik realized upon further inspection. It was the beach. The one in Cuba, where everything had changed.
Only it was different. There was no wrecked plane, no crashed submarine. There was only Charles and Erik and the serenity of the beach.
Erik wondered what it meant in the grand scheme of things.
Charles was still speaking, all of the agony he was feeling welling up to the surface as he finally exploded.
"I killed thirty-three people, Erik! Innocent people. People who were just going about their daily lives, who weren't even involved in this fight! Mutants. The ones we were trying to protect… slaughtered without a chance. By me."
"It wasn't your fault, Charles."
Charles showed no indication that he heard Erik.
"I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. I should have been able to keep from killing those people. Those mutants."
"How? How could you have stopped it, Charles?"
Charles shook his head violently, running a trembling hand through his hair.
"I should have found a way. I should have fought harder. Instead I just gave in to Stryker. I knew what he wanted, what he was planning, but I just let him."
"No, you didn't. You fought as hard as you could."
"No, I didn't, or otherwise those people would still be alive."
"No. Sometimes, Charles, bad things happen and you can't do anything to change them. Stryker would have killed you and Hank and every other mutant in that room had you refused to cooperate. He would have killed you all."
He felt as though the extra emphasis was necessary, though it was lost on Charles.
"Three of them were children. And I could only watch as they slipped away. I couldn't do anything to help them. I touched their minds and they just vanished."
His blue eyes were wide with pain and suffering. Erik longed to find the words that could break through to the telepath, to show Charles that what happened was not his fault, but he couldn't find anything that didn't sound utterly false. The metal bender had never been the one for eloquent words; that had always been Charles' occupation.
Still, Erik knew this was a battle he couldn't afford to lose. To lose meant he would lose Charles. And that was not an option.
"It was Stryker who did this, Charles. Not you. You weren't the one who adjusted the machine to deadly levels."
The words weren't working. Erik could see it on Charles' face.
"Charles, damn it, listen to me. You are not at fault for this. There was nothing you could have done!"
"There never is! There never is anything that I could have done! But that doesn't mean anything, Erik! It doesn't change the fact that thirty-three mutants died tonight because of what happened. It doesn't change the fact that I was the one who killed those thirty-three mutants. It doesn't change the fact that I felt every last one of their hopes and dreams fade away as my mind took all of that from them! Stryker might have been the one who made the machine that powerful, but I was the one who used that power!"
"You didn't do it willingly!"
"What difference does it make? Those people are gone and they're never coming back because of me."
"It wasn't your choice, Charles. You did everything in your power to stop it from happening."
"A lot of good that did."
"Sometimes, bad things happen, and you can't do anything about it. Sometimes, you're the one who does those bad things. But that doesn't mean you can just turn your back on everything. You can't just give up when things get hard."
"I killed them, Erik! This isn't some mutant recruiting trip gone wrong. I committed murder. That's not okay! I can't… I …"
He trailed off, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, obviously trying to get his emotions under control.
Erik took a deep breath, trying to gain control over his emotions and his thoughts. His next line of argument wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Would you say it's my fault that my mother died?"
Charles' eyes shot open, widening in horrified disbelief.
"No! Of course not."
Erik fought to keep his focus on the argument at hand and not allow himself to get lost in his memories. He couldn't. Not if he wanted to save Charles from himself.
"I had the power to move the coin. I should have been able to. I should have stopped Shaw from killing my mother."
"You were a kid, Erik! You didn't have any control over your powers!"
"And you didn't either. You had been given telepathic inhibitors for weeks, you were half-starved, and you had been beaten almost religiously for over a month. How the hell were you supposed to have control over your powers?"
Charles looked away. Erik pressed on.
"Stryker took advantage of your weaknesses. Hell, he caused most of them. He knew you weren't strong enough to fight against the power of the machine. He knew what you would do and what that would do to you."
Charles still didn't look at him, but Erik knew he was getting through to him.
"He wants this to destroy you, Charles. He wants you to give up, to just let go. Don't do it. Don't let him win, Charles."
As if in response, the scene around them changed once more.
The tension was so thick in the air that Hank swore he could have cut it with one of his claws. He was thankful that he had the excuse of actually having to fly the plane, so that he wouldn't have to participate in the glaring contest going on in the body of the plane behind him.
Erik and Charles were seated on either side of the plane, staring at each other with such intensity that Hank was certain the plane itself was going to burst into flames if they didn't stop soon.
Hank would have to be blind, deaf, and stupid not to know that something had happened between them between last night and Charles' sudden need to fly to Texas, as well as their sudden silent argument. Both the telepath and the metal wielder had been getting along fine last night, much to the chagrin of both Hank and Sean.
"You're being an idiot, Erik."
Hank started at the sound of Charles' voice. He cast a swift glance behind him, once more glad that he wasn't on the receiving end of either of those glares.
"And you're not, Charles?"
There was something akin to a growl as Charles huffed a sigh. Hank listened with acute interest, glad their conversation had finally gone audible.
"You're the one still recovering from the hell the CIA put you through."
"And you're the one who's not supposed to be using your powers at the moment, remember?"
Hank could almost hear Charles roll his eyes. Annoyance flared inside the scientist's mind—didn't Charles understand the risks of using his power too soon? Didn't he realize that he almost died from his actions during Erik and Raven's rescue?
Charles sighed heavily.
"Hank, if you're going to argue that point, do it quietly so I can't hear you. Erik, I'll be fine."
Erik made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat, one that Hank was inclined to agree with. Charles might have been unconscious for the most part once they got back to the Westchester mansion—having brain trauma did that—but Hank was not in a hurry to revisit that process.
Charles sighed again.
"Look, all I want to do is go talk to these people. Show them that they're being idiots."
Erik answered before Hank had the chance.
"When has that ever worked for you, Charles?"
The telepath didn't reply.