The Letter

Charles,

I didn't exactly find the time to say thank you for getting me out, so caught up were we in the events which followed, many of which, I admit, were once again my fault. There are several more grievances I now owe you apologies for, but I am afraid this letter does not contain them. Perhaps next time.

I am sorry however, for how things worked out between us. You were and remain the closest, if not only, friend I have ever known, and I deeply regret harming that friendship.

My chief reason for this letter was simply to say thank you, and to tell you one final thing. Charles, I love you. I needed you to know that.

Goodbye old friend,

Erik

Well.

If that didn't throw a tiger amongst the pigeons, he didn't know what did.

Charles stared at the letter. His first instinct was to go to Cerebro, track down Erik and give him a good mental bollocking. Because, seriously, what was the man thinking? Was Charles just supposed to go "That's nice" and carry on his merry way? Bloody idiot. He was going to slap him the next time he saw him.

Once he'd calmed down a little, Charles re-read the letter. Then he leaned back in his chair, staring out across the grounds, remembering a time when a huge satellite had dominated that skyline. Remembered Erik turning the satellite – which was precisely why it had been torn down, as it no longer worked and no one could figure out how to turn it back – then recalled Erik pushing Sean off the top of it. Poor Sean. He hadn't deserved to go that way, as a test subject in Trask's sick game. He remembered late nights playing chess, the taste of scotch on his tongue. He remembered long days sticking to the PVC car seats with the windows wound down in a vain attempt to cool down. He remembered ice cold water, a body and mind fighting his own.

Erik.

He was a wound that had never healed. Perhaps, Charles now admitted, the letter in hand, because he'd never allowed it to. Perhaps, because that would have needed him to admit the truth to himself. And the truth was dangerous – literally, as it broke the law – to admit. But now Erik had admitted his truth: that he loved Charles. And for the first time, Charles acknowledged the uncomfortable truth that had been swimming around his brain since they'd all reconvened here eleven years ago: his feelings for Erik went deeper than friendship.

He'd fallen in love with his best friend.

Now all that remained was to figure out what exactly he intended to do about it.

XXX

Erik was a wanted terrorist. Every news broadcast began and ended with warnings for the public to be on the lookout for Magneto, and instructions not to approach him, instead advising calling the police immediately. And a warning to keep any and all metal locked up if they thought they saw him.

So any dreams Charles may have had of merrily skipping off into the sunset with Erik were never going to happen. Never mind the fact that skipping was once again on the list of things he was physically incapable of. No, he couldn't just announce he was going after Erik. Apart from the fact Alex and Hank would probably lock him up, thinking he'd gone mad. No, he needed a plan. So Charles fought the urge to race after Erik, and forced himself to slow down. He had to be practical.

He started straight away. He began withdrawing a thousand dollars in cash from his account twice a week. The benefits of being a telepath were many, and amongst them was the ability to remove any suspicion from bank employees when you began making regular large withdrawals from a thus far largely untouched account. What should have started ringing alarm bells, went completely overlooked.

Charles' next priority was Cerebro. Not only so he could track down Erik, but also Raven. Although he couldn't and wouldn't tell her what he was planning or where he was going or with whom, he needed to reach out to her. To let her know that he forgave her everything, and that the school was still her home. Which led to another, more depressing order of business that he shared with no one, knowing they would find out soon enough. Hank's guilt over Cerebro's destruction at Raven's hands lingered, despite Charles' numerous assurances that he did not blame him. He could only assume that was why Hank seemed so reluctant to repair the machine. Eventually though, Alex snapped, "Dude, get your head out of your ass and quit moping. Go fix the damned thing. How else are we gonna find students?" Charles felt a rush of warmth and gratefulness for the blond boy – no – man, and felt safe in the knowledge that Hank and Raven would have Alex's practicality to pull them through the coming months.

Finally, Cerebro was repaired. First, Charles sought out Erik, without delving into the man's mind, simply discovering his location: Krakow, Poland. Then he found Raven, and gently nudged her with the soft words You're always welcome home. To his delight, only a few days later, Raven returned. It was only a brief visit, but it was a start. In the meantime, he worked with Hank and Alex in rebuilding the school, preparing for its re-opening. Occasionally Raven would help when she dropped by, although if they ever actively tried to include her, she automatically shut down. Charles did regret it a little that he would never get to see the school fulfil its potential and live up to his dreams. But Hank and Raven and Alex were more than capable. And some things were more important.

He would be unable to take much with him, too much and Raven or Hank would notice items missing and it would make them question. Just two changes of clothes, a few books he refused to leave behind, and a collection of photos: several of himself and Raven; a couple featuring Hank, Alex and even Sean; and one of himself and Erik, taken without their knowledge during the training week eleven years ago. He packed it into a carry-on bag and it, along with the several thousand dollars he'd removed over the past month and a half, was left in a train station locker for collection on his way to the airport.

On his final evening, he spent it with Hank, Alex and Raven. For a brief time, it felt like turning back the clock, as though any minute Sean would come racing in while shouting at the top of his lungs, or Moira would wander through, or Erik would skulk past and try to look like he didn't want to join in their conversation. Charles' heart ached a little. He would miss them so very much. It would be so easy to stay. But he'd made his choice, and hard as it may be, he knew it was something he had to do.

The next morning, before the other three woke, he checked with Cerebro that Erik hadn't moved. To his relief, Erik was still in Krakow. Good. It was time.

"I'm going to clear out the old gardener's shed," he announced at breakfast.

"Why?" Raven exclaimed.

"Because it's disgusting," he shrugged. "There's probably generations of spiders living in there. Not to mention, I'm pretty sure there's paraffin and all sorts of other things I doubt schools are supposed to have where students can access. And with students like ours, I don't want to take that chance."

"Do you want a hand?" Hank asked.

"No thanks," Charles smiled. "I'll manage."

He paused at the door, taking a moment to drink in the sight of Hank hunch over his newspaper, stealing glances at Raven; Raven in her pyjamas still, eating cereal; and Alex rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms and stifling a yawn while he spooned salt into his coffee.

"Goodbye," Charles whispered so none of them could hear.

XXX

"I've been working on a design for a new plane," Hank explained. "It's an updated version of the one I built at the CIA, but it's so much more sophisticated. It should be able to reach speeds of up to-"

"Hank," Raven interrupted. "You realise I understand none of this, right?"

"I know," he shrugged. "Guess I hoped, if I talked long enough it would stop you from leaving again."

"Hank..."

"It kills him, Raven, watching you leave," Hank said. "He misses you."

Raven fished for words, but before she could find them a boom echoed from outside, a flash of fire reflecting off the walls from the windows.

"Alex!" Raven yelled.

"Don't look at me!" Alex's voice floated from upstairs, accompanied by the thundering of footsteps on the stairs, the man himself appearing seconds later. "I was clearing out the first floor dorm rooms."

Raven paled, her skin rippling back to her natural blue unconsciously.

"Charles..." she whispered.

XXX

"Charles!"

He pressed his eyes closed, fighting back tears at the utter anguish in Raven's scream. I'm sorry. He couldn't turn back now. Forgive me. He climbed into the taxi, already hearing the sound of sirens in the distance.

"Something's going on, eh?" the taxi driver said. Charles nodded, willing the lump in his throat to dislodge. "Where to mate?"

"The, uh, train station," Charles replied. "Then JFK please."

Another of the many benefits of being a telepath came when asked for ID. One touch of his temple, and the woman at the ticket desk believed she'd seen his passport. Again at the security check and finally at the gate, and he was seated on the plane to Paris. Ironic, considering the last time he'd flown to Paris four short months ago, he'd been with Erik and now he was chasing after him. It was ridiculous, he realised, what he was doing. Faking his death, chasing a man halfway around the world. It was like something out of a bad romance novel. He promptly ordered a very large scotch as soon as the plane was in the air, hoping it would assuage the feelings of guilt.

He couldn't sleep, choosing instead to stare out of the tiny window at the darkness as it sped past. His thoughts were constantly spinning and turning, drifting from Erik to Raven to Erik to the school to Erik to the past to Erik to the future to Erik, always returning to Erik. He pulled the letter from his jacket pocket, unfolding it carefully and re-reading it again, despite the fact he'd memorised it somewhere between the seventh and eleventh readings. Knowing what it said was different to seeing it written in Erik's handwriting. It was a connection, however intangible, to the man he was running towards.

In Paris he changed terminals, leaving behind the bustle international arrivals for the quieter departures lounge aimed at Eastern Europe. He was surprised, although he knew he shouldn't be, to see just as many signs and newspaper articles warning of the terrorist Magneto in Europe as in New York. It was a reminder to Charles just how dangerous what he was doing could be. Even if he and Erik could figure out a way to make this work that didn't involve them being arrested or killed, there was still the matter of the international arrest warrant on Erik's head.

But then, he and Erik had been defying expectations and rules their entire lives, and only more so since they'd met. If anyone could make this work, it had to be the two of them.

XXX

It was only when he left the airport in Krakow that Charles began to feel nervous. He had no idea how their reunion would go, although hopefully better than their last. He certainly had no intentions of punching Erik again, although he was still considering a mild slap for the letter. Bloody idiot. His fingers tapped impatiently against his knee in the taxi to the address he'd scooped from Erik's neighbour's head via Cerebro. He'd debated long and hard on taking the taxi – no longer having access to virtually unlimited financial funds and all – before deciding that after a day of travelling, the last thing he needed was to search an unfamiliar city for hours in a country whose language he didn't speak. One taxi ride couldn't break the bank after all. He hoped.

Once there, a little telepathy convinced the landlady that Charles was an old friend of Erik's – who he discovered was currently going by the name Henryk – newly arrived in Krakow and to let him into the apartment. It was tiny and not very nice. But Charles didn't really pay attention. Instead he settled in his chair, waiting for Erik to return.

Finally he recognised the familiar tread on the stairs, pausing outside the apartment door. Charles took a deep breath to calm the nerves that he reignited, and when they door flew open he grinned and said, "Is this how you greet all your guests?"