This was my favorite scene in the movie. I definitely thought it deserved to be longer, hence this tag to it.


Chapter 3
On the Balcony

Children of the Maccabees, whether free or fettered,
Awake the echoes of their songs, where you may be scattered.

- English translation of "Ma'oz Tzur," a traditional Hanukkah song

"See that? Try turning it to face us."

Erik rests his hands on the cement railing around the balcony. The satellite dish is about half a mile away, across the grassy fields that stretch out behind the mansion. It's sitting still, of course, and the ground is level, which gives him a little advantage, but... it must weigh over a ton. Erik glances over his shoulder at Charles, to see if he's actually serious about this request. He is. His blue eyes are as steady and sure as Erik has ever seen them. So Erik turns back to the satellite dish, a bit nervous now, because he's never moved anything so heavy, and from such a distance. It almost feels like he's being set-up, like Charles expects him to fail.

Maybe he does. Erik doesn't really believe it, but that's what he tells himself. Charles is supposed to be your friend, and he thinks you can't do it. He repeats the words over and over in his head, because it's the quickest way to summon up the anger necessary to move the dish. Metal only obeys him when he's angry, and he'll have to be very angry to move something this heavy and far away.

The process feels as old as time itself to Erik. He doesn't even have to think about it anymore. He imagines the anger as a white-hot ball of fire at his center. It grows hotter and bigger, his skin warming as it spreads up into shoulders, then down into his arms. When he feels his fingers start to burn, he reaches his arms towards the satellite dish and flings out his hands.

A few seconds later, close to tears, he collapses on the balcony railing, panting and exhausted. Even in the sunlight, the cement is blessedly cool beneath his burning, throbbing head. White noise is loud in his ears, like a raging fire, and he clenches his teeth and struggles to catch his breath. Sometimes it's almost possible, once he gets himself worked up like this, to reign the anger back in. If he lets it get out of control here, now -

Charles's shoes make a soft sound on the cement, but somehow, it's loud enough to be heard over the thundering noise in Erik's head. His mind grows quieter, calmer as Charles steps closer to him, and when he speaks, that strange noise - the one that sounds like a raging fire - begins to die down.

"You know, I believe that true focus lies somewhere between rage... and serenity. Would you mind if I...?" Charles twirls his fingers close to his temple, as if to say ...poke around inside your head? Take a look at all your private, innermost thoughts?

And without thinking, Erik nods.

Charles nods back at him and closes his eyes, and that's the last thing Erik sees before everything goes black.

It's as if a curtain has been drawn over the sun, throwing the whole world into this sudden, heavy darkness. Erik feels blindfolded, but before he can panic, a faint, flickering light appears out of the blackness just ahead of him. The light grows bigger and pulls him closer, but even when the scene is laid out right there in front of him, it takes him a moment to understand what he's seeing.

He recognizes his own face and his mother's immediately, of course, but the memory feels so long ago - like something from another life - and Erik has no idea exactly when it is. It was some Shabbat evening from this childhood. That's what he thinks at first, but then his mother's hand doesn't stop after lighting two candles. She keeps going, until there are seven small flames dancing gently on their wicks. Once the candles' orange glow is bright enough, Erik sees not the Shabbat candlesticks, but the many-branched candelbra. It was Hanukkah. He takes a slow, deep breath; the memory is suddenly so sharp and clear that he can almost smell the sweet, fresh challah bread.

For so many years now, he's only associated his past with pain. He had forgotten there had ever been peace and hapiness, love and faith, in his childhood. He had forgotten that it was even possible for fire to be calm and warm, not raging out of control. He's forgotten many things.

Erik would've lingered forever in the candlelight of his childhood, but Charles leads him back into the present he led him into the past a moment ago. It almost feels like he takes Erik's hand and pulls him back to the sunlit balcony. They come out of the darkness together, both of them slightly startled when they open their eyes to the warm, clear summer day and hear the birds chirping again. The bright light is harsh after the dim glow of the candles, and they blink like young children in the sun. Faint tremors run up and down Erik's arms, but for once, it isn't because he's angry. He doesn't quite understand what's just happened.

When their eyes readjust to daylight and focus on each other, they're startled again to see that they're both crying. Erik is so ashamed that he can barely meet Charles's eyes. This time, there isn't any water to wash the tears away. There's no way that Charles can pretend not to notice them.

Charles must notice them, he has to, but he doesn't seem to. He simply says quietly, his voice almost in a whisper, "That was a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you."

"I didn't know I still had that," Erik answers. He isn't sure of what to say. He was only in that candelit memory of Hanukkah for a moment, and he doesn't understand why Charles would bother bringing it to the front of his mind for such a short time.

But a few seconds later, when Erik again stretches his arms out towards the satellite dish, it all makes sense. He's found it. The point between rage and serenity. He begins the same way he always does, flinging his hands out towards the metal he wants to manipulate, as if he's reaching to grab it. But after a moment, his way of thinking changes. He sees his outstretched hand turn inward, almost of its own accord.

He isn't trying to reach out for satellite dish. He never imagines himself reaching for the metal ever again. His hand turns, beckoning it, commanding. I am the mutant. I am powerful. You come to me.

A few tears slip past his control again when the metal obeys him, and he fulfills Charles's request. Half a mile away, the two-ton satellite dish turns to face them on the balcony. Charles puts his hand on Erik's shoulder as they smile at each other. "Well done." Erik realizes then that Charles knew he could do it all along.

-x-

Years later, Erik sometimes looked back at that day and wondered if Charles regretted what he taught him. It saddened him to know that his old friend was probably sorry now that he had made Erik more powerful, that the old man in the wheelchair must look back at that day and shake his head over that brash, young telepath who had unleashed a monster.


I'm still pretty iffy about how this chapter turned out. I hope you'll leave a review telling me what you think, even if you hated it!