The grandfather clock down the hall from Charles' bedroom chimes loudly, telling the only two inhabitants of the mansion that it's midday.
For Hank, this means he has to bury himself in something seemingly important.
For Charles, this means it's time to inject himself with the serum.
"I made dinner."
Hank tries, and somedays, he isn't sure if he tries hard enough. Despite the fact that he lies in bed all day, Charles is thin and starved.
"I'll be down later," Charles says, not looking at Hank once.
Hank walks away, knowing that he won't come down tonight, and wondering if he starves himself on purpose.
There are many unanswered questions that float around the Xavier Mansion. Hank never says them, but they are always there, always.
'Do you think about Erik?'
'Why are you slowly killing yourself?'
'Will things ever be the way they were?'
Hank is a scientist, so obviously, he knows the answer to the last one. He just wishes he didn't.
"Charles, I made-"
Hank stops. Charles is asleep.
"Scrambled eggs can wait, I suppose," Hank mumbles to himself. It's not the first time he's found the once-professor asleep, but Hank usually leaves to distract himself in other things.
This time, Hank stays.
He shuffles over to Charles' bedside table, which is covered in crumpled up, ink-splattered paper. Amongst the mess sits the photo of Raven, and Hank's heart sinks, because it's been too long since he's been reminded of her. Her smile looks too young, too innocent, and he doesn't allow himself to wonder where she is now.
He picks up a piece of paper and, ever so gently, un-crumples it. Some of the words are smudged by droplets of water, and Hank realizes what he's looking at.
It's a love letter. A draft that Charles will never send.
Hank can't make out who it's to, but he doesn't have to.
The first unanswered question is unanswered no more. Hank doesn't try to read what's written, and instead crumples it back up and puts it back.
He leaves abruptly, feeling vaguely sick.
Curiousity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.
Hank keeps this in mind when Charles confronts him after he brings him a cup of tea he'll never drink.
"You were in here. Yesterday."
Hank freezes, before lowering the tray of tea and sugar onto the desk and turning around. "I thought you were sleeping."
"I was. You woke me," Charles says.
Hank looks down as a form of apology.
"You looked at the papers," Charles continues.
Hank nods. "I did."
"Please," Charles whispers. "Don't."
Hank nods and leaves the room. The answer to 'Do you think about Erik?' is a yes, but something tells Hank that Charles wishes it wasn't.
Dear Erik,
I love you.
Charles tears this one up, sobbing as he does so.
Dear Erik,
Things could have been so much better if they weren't the way they were.
Charles can't argue with this one, but he balls it up anyway, for good measure.
Hank empties the papers from Charles' bedside table without asking.
He figures Charles could use a break from his emotions.
"They've gone."
"I threw them out. I swear, I didn't read them."
Charles trusts him. And he doesn't mind that they're gone.
Hank sometimes wonders if Erik thinks about Charles.
He must, surely, Hank thinks. Locked up in that tiny, glass-and-concrete cell. Charles must cross his mind.
But Hank knows how easy it is to block a loved one from one's mind.
Raven is no more then a type of bird, to him. Just as Charles is most likely just a name in history books, to Erik.
Charles misses Raven, too. Hank knows this.
But Hank can't look at her photo without hurting. Charles can't write Erik's name without shaking.
The ghosts that haunt Xavier Mansion are not spirits of the dead. Rather, they are the souls of the living.
Rattling around, never colliding.
Hank thinks it would be much easier to be dead, but he can't think like that. He knows he can't.
He just wishes that Charles thought the same.
"I'm running low," Charles mumbles one morning when Hank drops a plate of toast on his bedside table. Again, Hank knows the piece of toast is doomed to a life in their garbage bin, but he thinks this is better left unsaid.
It says something about Charles and Hank that Charles doesn't need to specify what he's running low on.
"I'll... I'll get you some more," Hank promises, and Charles nods. "Do you have enough for the next two days?"
Charles nods again. When Hank leaves the room and begins to busy himself in making more doses, he almost considers not giving him more. Almost.
He tries to not think about how he's not really helping Charles. If he were helping Charles, he'd be making him better. All Hank is doing is making him worse. But he tries not to think about it.
The rare occasions where Hank has to go out for groceries leave both of them with time to think.
Hank doesn't mind going back out into the buzzing world, despite having shied away from social situations as a teenager and child. The odd trip to the nearest supermarket is tolerable, almost enjoyable, for Hank. He still wonders whether he actually ever needs to buy groceries, as Charles likes to waste his life away under the comfort of his quilt, and Hank can quite easily go without food for days, provided he has something to occupy his mind with. Still, buying groceries makes him think that things are normal. And from time to time, Hank does not mind feeling normal.
Charles uses Hank's complete absence to get up and wander through the halls of a house that never really felt like home. There are too many empty rooms with empty words echoing through his mind as he tries not to remember all that happened inside the solid brick walls of Xavier Mansion.
His finger picks up dust in the kitchen as he tries not to remember meeting Raven for the first time.
His ankles brush against cobwebs in the dining room as he tries not to remember all the dinners spent sitting across from his stepfamily, wishing his mother loved someone else, anyone else but the monster across from him.
The floorboards creak slightly in front of a door that both he and Hank have kept shut for years. Even with Hank gone momentarily, Charles doesn't dare open it. He doesn't trust his emotions, not at all.
He just continues walking, and pretends that Erik Lehnsherr never lived in any room in the house, particularly not that one.
When a strange man named Logan turns up, claiming to be from the future, Charles doesn't believe him. And neither does Hank.
And when he tells them that Charles and Erik sent him, Charles knows that it is too dangerous to believe him.
"It's not just that your story is very... Strange," Hank tells him as Charles walks away to hide himself in his bedroom once again.
"No? Then what else is it?" Logan says.
"He can't believe you."
Logan doesn't understand until Hank explains it further.
"You told him that both he and Erik sent you. And he can't believe that he might have a future with Erik. Because the moment he starts to believe that, his emotions will betray him, and he'll be vulnerable once again. And he can't let his emotions betray him. He can't be hopeful. He won't let himself."
And Logan knows, because Hank can see that he too knows how dangerous hope can be.
Hank goes along with Logan's plan, only because he comes to pity the man.
The operation is smooth, with Peter Maximoff being the ultimate savior of the rescue mission. Erik says very little on the car ride back to Xavier Mansion, which Logan has unofficially made his headquarters.
Hank doesn't bother telling Charles. He'll check on him tonight to make sure he isn't actually dead, but Charles never left his bedroom before Logan arrived, so Hank sees no reason why he should leave his bedroom now.
Erik opens the door that Hank and Charles left closed for so long. His room is cold and the carpet is dusty, but he's slept inside a glass and cement prison for years. Hank guesses he's happy as he leaves to show Logan where he can stay for the time being.
Hank doesn't check on Charles, but the main reason for this is that Erik has beaten him to it. And Hank wants to punch himself for not telling Erik not to visit Charles earlier.
He doesn't sit by the door and eavesdrop. Instead, he wanders off to find a box of aspirin that isn't empty.
Charles is angry at Hank for not telling him about their guests, but Charles is angrier at Erik for inviting himself into his room.
"Get out. I want nothing to do with you," he spits bitterly, and he's not even angry, and he knows Erik can see that. He's not angry, he's just hurt, so very hurt.
"I am sorry, Charles," Erik whispers, face only illuminated by the slit in Charles' curtain. "Please. I am sorry."
"Your words mean nothing."
Charles should punch him, but he should have also injected more of his serum earlier that day. He has run out of serum, and consequently, he's running out of time as a fuctional human.
Erik might have spoken after he did, Charles doesn't know. He's too busy clutching his head.
The voices come flooding, painfully and forcefully. He doesn't even try to hold back his screams and cries, doesn't try to stop his tears and Erik thinks it's because of him at first, until he notices that Charles' legs have stopped thrashing, despite his upper body trembling and jolting in a less than comfortable way.
And Erik pieces it together. And Erik feels sick.
"Make them stop!" Charles sobs, shaking his head. "HANK! Make them stop!"
His voice is panicky and pained and it hurts to listen. Erik watches Charles, helpless and screaming like a child, and he doesn't know what the fuck to do, where Hank is, and shitshitshit he doesn't know...
Hank is asleep in his study, walls soundproofed and mind guarded. Charles can't reach him whatsoever, and he's in too much pain to try.
"Is there something I can do, get, anything..." Erik stumbles, voice quiet and slow. Charles whimpers and shakes his head violently, in too much pain to formulate a response.
All he can manage is a "Get out!"
Erik doesn't need to be told twice.
Erik leaves.
Hank doesn't watch him go, but he can hear Charles' thoughts projecting to no one in particular, and it's probably ten times worse than watching Erik leave.
'He always fucking leaves...'
Yeah, Hank would rather be punched in the stomach than have to hear Charles' thoughts.
"There's no real reason for you to stay," Hank tells Logan over breakfast that Charles isn't eating. "Now that Erik's gone."
"Sure there is," Logan shrugs. "I was sent back here to do something, and I'm not going to give up. I've seen the future if everything continues this way, and trust me bub, it's not a pretty sight."
Hank nods. "Good luck, trying to repair... Whatever they are."
He pauses, hoping that Logan will clarify, use a term that actually works, but he doesn't. Finishing his toast, Hank makes to leave the room.
"Beast."
He turns. "Yes?"
"Did you give Charles more of that serum in the end?"
For the first time in a while, Hank is happy with his answer. "No. I didn't."
Judging by the way Logan's face relaxes slightly, he's happy too.
Hank won't bring him the serum, or a gun, so Charles resorts to sleeping. He can't remove the pain, he can't remove himself, but he can pretend that nothing is wrong by sleeping day in and day out.
Charles doesn't try to reach out to Erik, except for one time, when he wakes up, tangled in his sheets and unable to see due to the darkness. In the moment, he subconsciously reaches for Erik, but he pulls back before he can truly communicate with him.
If the fact that Erik isn't wearing the helmet anymore makes Charles any happier, he doesn't show it.
Hank and Logan get pieces of Charles' dreams - nightmares - all through their days and nights. Neither of them speak about them, but it's not hard to tell why Charles dreams the things he does. Some are memories, and some are altered fantasies. Both of them daren't mention it to Charles; they don't know if he realizes he projects them.
Erik's fear of loving Charles, pictures of starved men with pink triangles, forced to walk for miles and miles until death.
Bitter remarks exchanged once alcohol flooded both of their blood systems. The feel of Erik's hands on Charles' body, his lips on his, angry and passionate and pure love.
Empty beds the mornings after. Anxious ponderings and sinking realizations.
The times he almost stayed.
"I think we can get him back."
Hank looks up at Logan. "Which one?"
Logan sighs, not daring to be any more hopeful than he needs to be. "Both."
They have it all set out - Logan knows enough people in this era, they are set to locate Erik and make him return.
But Erik Lehnsherr returns on his own accord, three days before their operation was set to start.
"You came back," Hank says at the door. "We were set to find you and persuade you. Why are you back?"
Erik meets his eyes and Hank looks away; the man is steely and intimidating in every way. "His dreams kept interrupting mine. He projected everything to me, unintentionally, I assume, but I..."
"I saw pieces of them," Hank interrupts quickly. "I know. I get it."
Erik's cold mask slips for a second, truly thankful to not have to explain. "Does he know that he was projecting?"
It's a stab to Hank's stomach when he admits that he doesn't know. "He's become a recluse since you left again. Or, he's become a more confined recluse."
Neither Erik nor Hank smile.
"What now? Should I approach him first?" Hank asks, pacing nervously.
Logan shrugs. "That might be best, bub. You heard what happened last time."
"That won't be necessary, Hank."
All eyes zoom to Charles, who is sitting in his wheelchair, looking like death. Erik moves forward slightly. "Charles..."
Charles directs his gaze at Hank and Logan. "If you two could leave us, we have something to attend to."
Hank notes his placid tone and fears the worst, but leaves the building with Logan.
"Where now?"
Logan stares at Hank, head tilting slightly. "Stop asking so many questions. Let's just drive somewhere for a few hours. Don't be so worried to not know what happens next."
Hank can't do anything else but nod and duck into the passenger seat of Logan's car.
"I know why you have returned."
Erik doesn't flinch at the cold tone. "If you know that, then you will know how much I regret leaving in the first place."
"Which time? You left more than once," Charles spits. Erik does wince slightly.
'Like I need a reminder,' he thinks, making an effort to block Charles from hearing this.
"You know perfectly well that I regret every time I left. You can see that," Erik growls.
"I know that you're lying, Erik," Charles hisses. "You don't regret leaving, you always leave once things get messy. You fuck things up and abandon them. This whole thing was one fucking mistake to you. I do know that."
Erik glares, cursing under his breath. "You never tried to understand. You wouldn't listen to me, each time I told you that I couldn't."
"You were a boy!" Charles yells.
"I was old enough to know that I was going to die!" Erik roars. "What I saw, no memory can convey that. I saw men tortured until death for being like you."
"For being like us, Erik - you still deny it!"
"Has it ever cross your brilliant mind that I don't love you anymore?" Erik half-screams, unable to hold back.
And they both stop still. "You don't mean that," Charles whispers.
Erik tries to find a reply, but all he can do is sob, every cry jolting through his body, no noise coming out. It's shaky, raw sobbing, and it breaks him.
"I never loved you."
It's all he can manage before he leaves Charles Xavier for the last time.