Erik vs Charles (Pastfic, no wheelchair, breakup) – Requested by Yma
Dishes
clattered in the kitchen out the back as the waiter took the orders
of the two gentlemen seated at table 7.
"Yours is Scotch on the
rocks, right Xav?"
"Oh, of course, of course. And you're
still a martini fan, if I remember."
"You should, we only went
out drinking last week."
"Ah, but I said 'If I remember',
Rik. I don't remember much about that night. I doubt you do either,
actually."
"Touché…"
----
Some
minutes later, as dishes of food and respective drinks were laid on
the table, the pair wound down the idle chat and paid attention to
the meal. With occasional glances around them at several ladies on
the surrounding tables who were doing very bad jobs at pretending not
to stare.
And indeed, there really were several interested looks
coming in. It wasn't hard to see why; a pair of handsome men in
their early thirties, plainly wealthy, educated judging by their
voices, and with nary a wedding ring to be seen. The fact that one's
hair was white as snow, while the other was perfectly hairless, only
added to the impressive appearance.
They'd been closest friends
for years. Upon occasions, they'd competed gently to see who could
get the most phone numbers in one night. This, however, was no such
event.
They'd come to discuss the issue that was tearing apart
their friendship.
----
Eventually, Charles pushed his
empty plate away and picked up his glass. "So, Rik. What shall we
talk about?"
Erik, drink in hand, lounged back in his chair.
"You know what, Xav."
The bald man nodded. "Yes, I suppose I
do. Do you want to start?"
Erik sipped at his drink and set it
on the table. "Xav, we've been friends since high school. I don't
want that friendship to end. But this isn't something we can work
around. Eventually it's going to come to a point, and there's no
turning back when it does. But I'll be damned if I know quite how
to deal with it."
Charles sighed. "Well, I suppose the best
thing we can do is discuss it for now. Come on - you've heard my
opinion on this more times than I'd care to remember. Let's hear
yours for a change."
Erik chuckled. "Right now, Xav? But it
sounds so… stiff, so political. I'd feel like a total ass."
"Rik,
you've been an ass for years."
"Be nice, or I'll kick
your ass."
"?And I'll make you want to kiss your own
ass."
"And I'll draw a line down the middle of your head so
that it looks like an ass!"1
Charles held up a hand, laughing.
"Okay, okay. Truce. Just give me a non-political version,
then."
Erik, also laughing, nodded. Then, pausing for breath, he
stared into his glass for a moment; then he leaned forward, eyes
intent.
"Xav, you and I are different. From other people, I
mean. There's no great news there for either of us, but what's
important about it is how others will react to it. People are always
afraid of what is different, what they can't understand."
"People
would try to understand if we let them, Rik."
"Maybe they
would, Xav, but their methods of understanding far too often involve
metal laboratories and sharp scalpels. Neither of us want that. I'd
like people to understand, I really would, but I won't turn myself
in as a test subject to do it."
"Point."
"Thank you."
Erik smiled.
Charles raised an eyebrow. "There. Not so hard, is
it? And you don't sound overly political at all. But anyway, go
on."
Erik nodded. "There are people who are never going to
accept us, or understand us. People who will look at you, for
example, and say, 'He can kill us by thinking about it'. These
people will never be won over and I'm sad to say that there are a
lot of them. We can't live in the same world they do, and if they
can't be convinced…" he paused. "…then we have to deal with
them in some other way."
Charles frowned. "And I think that is
where we have trouble," he commented.
Erik rolled his eyes.
"Xav, I'm not looking for a fight. They are. If this whole peace
and harmony thing were possible, I'd jump at it. But as long as
fools stand in the way, it's just not going to happen."
"Rik,
that's no excuse to start a war!"
"Just because there's
going to be a war doesn't mean I'm going to start it. But I'm
allowed to try and make an end of it. If the people who hold our kind
down are taken out of the picture, you and I will be free to do what
we wish. As will others like us. It's evolution, Charles. Let's
use what we've been given to take what we deserve. God made us
superior for a reason, after all."
Charles finished his drink
and set the glass down. "Rik, I just don't see the need. If we
give people time, they'll come around. Things aren't as bad as
you say."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. People are more
open-minded than you give them credit for. I happen to think that,
given a chance, most people would accept us."
For a long moment,
Erik regarded his friend in silence. Then he rose abruptly.
"Alright,
Xav – let's test that theory."
And the room exploded into chaos.
----
Cutlery whipped up from every table
without warning, jerking from people's hands, leaping from where
pieces had rested in or beside plates. Loose change rattled out from
purses. A metal walking stick sprang into the air.
People began to
scream.
A moment later the cluster of metallic objects shot across
the room to Erik - who, as his stunned audience stared, began to rise
into the air. The items then began to orbit his body in various
intricate patterns.
The screams got louder.
Charles sprang
to his feet. "Damn it, Rik! What do you think you're doing?" he
hissed.
Erik smiled. "This, Xav, is fairly well what happened to
me on the day my abilities manifested. I was lucky enough to not have
an audience then. Now I'm re-enacting the scene for everyone
here.?
Charles glared up at him. "Why?"
"To test your
theory, like I said. If I had been in public when my powers
manifested, this is exactly what it would have been like, save that
I'd be much more panicked. This could happen to anyone of our kind
- and now we're seeing how people would react." He glanced around
and gestured at the terrified crowd. "And it seems that your faith
may have been misplaced. There isn't much accepting or
understanding being done at all."
Charles looked about
desperately. "Alright, fine! You've made your point, Rik, now get
down!"
"Oh, I don't know, I rather like it up here…"
Charles
swallowed. There seemed to be no option.
Focusing his gaze on
Erik, he concentrated, pushing out with his mind. Erik stiffened and
let out a strangled cry as his eyes went wide.
And crashed
ungracefully to the floor in a hail of falling metal.
Shaking
his head to clear it, Erik slowly got up. Then he fixed a deadly gaze
upon Charles.
"God, Xav! What are you doing? Trying to kill
me?"
The rain of cutlery had, unfortunately, involved sharp
knives and pointy forks. Erik now sported literally dozens of
superficial cuts and abrasions, making his furious expression all the
more frightening.
"Rik, you were being an idiot! Do you want to
get us both in trouble?"
"You said to give people a chance to
accept us for what we are! I did it, they reacted badly - and instead
of helping them to 'understand', you attacked me?"
Charles
glared at him. "Rik, there is a time and a place for-"
"Yes,
for you to stab me in the back!" Erik spat. "So much for helping
our kind, Xav. But if you won't help them, I will!"
The metal
cane rose off the floor and whirled rapidly toward Charles?
head.
----
Charles ducked. Just. The cane whirred an
inch over his scalp with a noise like a bird beating its wings,
crashing onto the table behind him and sending plates of food flying
as people cowered in terror.
A moment later, however, it was Erik
who staggered back under intense psychic pressure, groaning in
pain.
Rik, don't do this.
Do what, Xav? Defend myself? Try
to liberate our kind? I may not be perfect, Xav, but I'm no
sell-out.
And neither am I!
Then why are you fighting me right
now?
Because I will not try to achieve my aims through the blood
of innocent people.
And why, then, do you hope to use a fool's
methods toward a hopeless dream?
Charles released Erik's
mind and stepped forwards so they were very close.
"Because I
choose to," 2 he said softly.
And then he punched Erik as hard
as he could.
Erik staggered back at the impact with a grunt,
treading on scattered cutlery as he did so, eyes blazing with
fury.
"You'll pay for that," he growled.
Striding
forward, he lashed out with one hand; Charles caught the blow on his
shoulder, stepping back as Erik began swinging wildly.
And then
staggered as a steak knife whistled forward and carved into his
shin.
This was doubly bad for him; besides the injury, it made him
drop his guard. He was jolted backwards by a blow and leaned back
with both hands on another table behind him, hissing in pain.
His
hand grazed an untouched plate of tortellini pollo e funghi 3
on the table top; instantly, he seized it, flinging it at Erik before
charging like a bull at the white-haired mutant.
Erik reacted
swiftly to the hurled plate; with a wave of his hand, the coins
littering the floor rose up, forming a solid wall of metal. The dish
shattered harmlessly against this barrier, sending shards of
porcelain and pasta in all directions. This was effective, and it
looked impressive; unfortunately, it blocked his view of Charles.
When the coins dropped away a moment later, Erik had a bare second to
gape before the furious bald telepath barrelled into him and sent
them both sprawling to the floor.
Debris on the carped dug
into them as they rolled back and forth, struggling wildly. This only
lasted a few moments, however; after that short time, Charles felt
himself lifted into the air on a carpet of coins and cutlery as Erik
kicked free.
Then the objects moved, wrapping around him,
tightening. He cried out at the pain; Erik paid the sound no
heed.
Face turning red, Charles brought his head around, locking
eyes with Erik.
"So be it," he rasped. "You want an enemy
out of me, Rik, that's what you'll get."
And an instant
later, Erik collapsed bonelessly. The metal objects under his control
fell to the floor the instant he lost consciousness. As too did
Charles.
Erik had been right - falling like this really did hurt.
The cutlery really dug in.
Charles lay on the floor, panting.
He was bleeding from a dozen minor cuts as well as the deep wound on
his shin, which burned like fire. He'd probably get a permanent
limp from it 4. He was exhausted, hurt, and had just been in a
huge, public fight with his now ex-best friend.
He couldn't
remember ever feeling this miserable.
But he still staggered to
his feet. His job wasn't done yet. Seizing the metal cane off the
nearby table, he hobbled with it to the door.
Luckily, only a very
few patrons had entirely fled the restaurant; most had stayed,
fascinated, to watch the fight.
Charles began to concentrate.
By
the end of the night, only Erik Lensherr and Charles Xavier would
ever know what had happened in that restaurant.
And neither of
them would, or could, ever forget it.
----
"You
alright, Chuck?"
Charles snapped back to the present. He was
seated in his chair on the porch, staring out over the Institute
grounds. Logan was regarding him with an expression that told him
he'd been staring blankly for some time now.
"Er… yes, yes.
I'm fine."
"You sure?"
He forced a smile. ?Indeed.
Just… lost in memories. That's all."
"Hm." Logan took a
sip of his coffee. "Different. Wouldn't know what that's
like."
Charles nodded stiffly and turned away again as the burly
Canadian walked off.
And for that, my friend, you have no idea
how lucky you are.
- FIN
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
1
It's from Cool Runnings. But I always wanted to see someone say
this to Xavier.
2 Neo, you heathens. If you didn't know that,
you deserve to have Yma throw a llama at you.
3 Yummy… my
favourite…
4 Whee! Irony, irony! Woot!