Chapter 4

Sleep eludes Magneto that night.

The immaculate, impersonal guest room he's been given in the East wing is warm and comfortable. It's one of the nicest rooms he's ever stayed in; with a lifetime of running - chasing Schmidt after the war, his days with the Brotherhood - he's certainly no stranger to nights in draughty warehouses, stolen cars and empty fields under the stars. Surprising then that he finds it suffocating, almost intolerable here, the other side of the mansion and a million miles from Charles and his son.

Their son.

He's filled with so many mixed emotions that he can hardly stand to breathe. His beautiful, brilliant Charles has given him a family, a word that means everything he ever wanted and nothing he could ever have. There is no way to describe his joy, his relief, the surge of hope and wonder and love when he saw Max for the first time and realized that his parents would live on in this sweet, precocious boy.

All of it, his need, the dangerous longing, his love (for Charles, always for Charles) is buried deep; the mantle of Magneto wrapped tightly around the core of his being like layers upon layers of armor and steel. It's been a long time since he's felt the strength of his conviction waiver, as if Erik Lensherr, the man he used to be (the man Charles loved, wanted) is fighting tooth and nail to get out.

There's guilt here - that he's missed out on so much of Max's life. There's also regret that he didn't find out much sooner about his son. And underneath it all there is anger, fierce and bright and growing harsher by the minute as he wonders how Charles – his Charles – could lie to him for all these years. Keep him away from Max and make him a veritable stranger to his own flesh and blood.

He can think of nothing that could make Charles so heartless and cruel.

He can think of everything that would make him deserve it.

Lights dim. Fire crackling, warm. A game of chess.

"He has to be stopped."

"I'm not going to stop Shaw. I'm going to kill him. Do you have it in you to allow that?"

"You've known all along why I was here, Charles. But things have changed."

Skin, pale in the moonlight. Eyes bright. Bodies moving, flushed. A hitch of breath.

"Charles...Charles...I love you."

"Erik. Please...please."

Sun. Sand. Gunshots. Eyes bluer than the sky, the sea. A tear. Agony.

"Us turning on each other, it's what they want. I tried to warn you Charles."

"I want you by my side. We're brothers you and I. All of us together, protecting each other. We want the same thing."

"My friend. I'm sorry, but we do not."

He does not sleep at all.

The mansion is eerily quiet in the early morning hours, still too dark outside for any light to illuminate the long, empty corridors. He makes his way down to the kitchen to sit. And to wait.

He doesn't have to wait long.

His control, his awareness of the metal around him has grown substantially since his stay at the mansion years ago. Now he can reach out and feel the gentle hum of everything from the nails in the roof to the reinforced walls of Cerebro.

He can feel the chair rolling down the wide, wooden corridors in the West wing towards the elevator. Follow with his senses as it moves down to the first floor and then turn towards the kitchen. He stands and heads over to the stove, putting hot water in the kettle to make tea.

"Good morning Erik."

He turns slowly, half terrified and half elated to see Charles again after so many years. "Good morning Charles. Would you like some tea?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you my friend." Charles is still (always) beautiful to behold, looking a bit tired but calm and composed. His eyes are sharp, discerning, lacking the perpetual warmth that used to be all for him. Only for him.

There is silence as Charles rolls over to the table and waits as he finishes making the tea. They stare at everything but one another as they each take a sip from their cups.

"I appreciate you coming all this way at Max's behest. I'm afraid he misunderstood what he picked up from my projections when I was sedated and took it upon himself to make my wishes come true." Charles laughs, though it's not a particularly happy sounding one. "He's wonderfully bright but he's still too young to understand...that things are often more complicated than they seem."

"It's fine." He can't keep the anger and hurt from his voice as he answers. "I think it's about time I got to know him don't you think Charles?"

There's a mildly surprised look on Charles' face before he flips back to his usual professor's demeanor. "Of course. I just assumed you came now because you may have been unintentionally misled about the severity of my illness. I assure you I'll be fine. And Max will be as well."

He sets his cup on the table and glares at the man in front of him. "Were you ever going to tell me about him? If he hadn't reached out to Mystique on his own would you have kept Max from me forever Charles?"

"I'm sorry? I don't understand. Why would you say that I was keeping Max from you?"

His temper flares despite himself, "You didn't think I had a right to know we had a son? That I would want to know him? How dare you keep me away just because you don't agree with my beliefs!"

Charles levels a glare in return and snaps, "Erik, I have no idea what you're talking about. I sent you a letter as soon as I found out I was pregnant, which was a bit of a shock as you can imagine. I sent you over a dozen letters during the pregnancy and after Max was born. Did you not get any of them?"

Utter shock as he remembers the letters - along with the icy cold realization as it hits him.

Charles sees the look of horror on his face and his lips purse into a tight frown. "You didn't read them."

He had read the first letter Charles sent, to a mailbox location Mystique set up for Charles and Hank to reach her in case of an emergency. After he read it, it had taken him a full day before he could bear to come out of his room. Another week before he quashed the urge to drop everything and everyone and return home to Charles.

"I read the first one. It didn't..."

"No," Charles looks embarrassed. "I didn't know about the baby until after I sent the first letter. When I sent that one I had hoped..." He shakes his head, "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I did tell you. That you didn't bother to read my letters is not my concern. When I didn't hear back from you I took it to mean that you weren't interested in having anything to do with me or with Max. Or perhaps if I was being generous that you felt it best to stay away for his safety."

He's stunned. How could Charles believe he didn't want anything to do with him? With their son? "You could have tried to reach me some other way! Sent one of the boys to look for me! And what about all these years? You didn't think to contact me any time in the last seven years? It didn't occur to you once that maybe I didn't know?"

"Erik." The hard look Charles is leveling at him is nothing he's ever seen before on the professor's face. "I've seen or spoken with you less than half a dozen times since Cuba. Twice it's been across battle lines and I hardly think that's an appropriate time to discuss such personal matters." He takes another sip of his tea, "You left. I tried to reach you. You never responded. I could only interpret your actions in one way." He raises an eyebrow and gives the other man a wry smile. "It's not as though I could read your mind now could I?"

"No." He can't believe it. Won't believe it. "If you wanted me to know, to see my son you would have found a way."

And now he can see that Charles is angry. The calm demeanor is entirely gone from his face and his eyes are full of steel and fire. "Do you think Erik, that you are the only one with any pride? Or did you assume I lost it when I lost the use of my legs?" He's too shocked to interrupt as Charles plows ahead, "You're right, maybe I could have tried harder to contact you. And then what? To have you tell me to my face what I already knew? That your beliefs, your cause for mutant supremacy was more important than me or our son? I hardly needed to deal with that on top of my paralysis and a surprise mutation I didn't know I had."

Their voices are low, tension threatening to explode in the empty kitchen. They remain in a silent standoff until finally he's the first to break the quiet, "I'm sorry."

Charles relaxes slightly in his chair but doesn't respond. He watches and waits, looking detached at the words that follow. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you found out about Max. That I wasn't there when you gave birth to our son. I'm sorry I ever made you think it was easy to leave you. I'm sorry for making you regret letting me in your life."

"No Erik, I don't regret that. Not even after everything that's happened." Charles reaches over to place a hand over his own. "I could never be sorry for being with you, or for having Max. He's the most precious gift you've ever given me and I look at him every day and think what an amazing man he's going to become." He pulls away and rests his hands in his lap. "If you wish, you can stay a while and get to know him before making any decisions. Think about what part you want to have in his life, if at all."

"I'm his Father. I want to be in his life, I don't need to think about that."

Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not trying to keep you from Max. But there are a lot of factors to consider. And I have conditions you'll want to think about regarding the time you spend with Max."

He looks up sharply, eyes narrowed at his ex-lover. "Conditions?"

"You will not take him off the property. If you want to see him you must come to the mansion. You will leave your Brotherhood and all its dealings behind while you're here; I will not have your enemies follow you to my school. You will be addressed as Erik or Mr. Lensherr and not Magneto – it's confusing for the children and for Max." Charles takes another sip of his tea. "And you will not wear your helmet around our son."

"I don't want him to see my memories of Shaw. Other things I've done...no."

"It's not up for debate," Charles snaps. "Your infernal helmet will give him a headache if he's exposed to it for any length of time. He's too young to properly shield himself and the psionic void around your mind will hurt him. Besides, I will not have you teach my son to be ashamed of his gift; that telepathy is to be protected against, to be feared."

"That's not..."

"Save it. This is not negotiable. However, I will make you the same promise I made to Raven. I will not read your mind or attempt to control you while you are a guest here in my home. You don't need to be concerned with Max. He can read anything you project along with surface thoughts quite easily; he's also quite adept at reading emotions. However, he lacks control and won't be able to read anything deeper in your mind unless he concentrates for an extended period of time. I'm sure Ms. Frost taught you how to shield without the helmet. You'll be fine."

Charles places the empty cup in his lap and rolls over to the counter, placing it in the sink before rolling towards the door to exit the kitchen. "I realize that you'll find it difficult to trust me without your helmet to protect you but I assure you I have no interest in influencing you. You have my word that I won't use my telepathy against you in any way, unless you give me reason to by harming anyone under my protection." He levels an even look behind him before rolling away, "Think about it."

Erik gets up from the table and places his own cup in the sink. He rubs his face with his hand, before turning to exit in the opposite direction.