Summary:
"When things came together, everything fell apart. It was like looking at a large puzzle, and everything was fitting perfectly. The pieces began to fall and the big picture crumbled away. Tell me, Erik, why did you leave? Why have things come to this?"
Notes:
Because history is made with each tick-tock of the clock and the lies we promise will end us
Who was saving who?
It's dark and painful, but Erik doesn't want to wake up. His head feels like someone is feeding electricity into his cranium, like someone took a brick at each hand and slammed them against his temples. Erik's body is heavy with fatigue, the muscles tense and his jaw is clenched; his heart is beating as if he where sleeping, at ease, but breathing is a labored chore.
It's dark and painful, and a soft, gentle voice is speaking to him, speaking in some arcane language his jumbled brain can't make much out of; right now it's all garble, intelligible syllables and sounds he hears, he listens to but can not comprehend, can not understand.
"When things came together, everything fell apart." It says, and to Erik the words are meaningless, it's the sentiment, the way the voice seems to crack and lower in volume at the end of the statement. There is no hesitation, just a cold, hard fact. "It was like looking at a large puzzle, and everything was fitting perfectly. The pieces began to fall and the big picture crumbled away." The voice pauses and Erik almost wants to cry, wants to move to as long as the voice continues. Just listening to the smooth accent is healing a wound in him, ailing something he hadn't even known was wrong. "Tell me, Erik, why did you leave? Why have things come to this?"
The darkness is sweet, he clings to the tendrils of partial-unconsciousness and pleads, begs; the light, the memories, he doesn't want them back. He wants to lay here and listen, listen and carefully lose himself in the shifting emotions, in the mixed tones.
But it isn't meant to be. The darkness recedes, and he's on a strange bed, in a warm room so strange but hauntingly familiar. The room is bathed in a fiery orange glow from artificial lights, The bed bathed in soft crimson sheets, his body is still heavy, his head is slowly thudding back into normalcy but there is no one near him, no one close by that could have been speaking to him in that voice, the voice he misses so much, that he's dreamed of hearing, that he's feared to hear in his nightmares.
Charles is sitting on one side of a table, back against Erik, wearing a button up white shirt that was a little too big: long sleeves covering up to Charles' , far too much space between the cloth and Charles' torso, going down to his mid-thigh. Those long, lean legs are bare to the room, and the navy blue of Charles' boxer-briefs are probably the single and most erotic undergarment Erik has ever beheld (not that he has ever wanted to unclothe someone, no, not since then, not since he left, and even then Charles was angelic, possibly the best untouchable fantasy that has ever been imagined, and his fingers itch to touch that which is forbidden).
"I don't understand...your reasoning. Your logic." Charles continues, unabashed or unaware of Erik's attention. "Ironic, isn't it? How one of the very last things you tell me, right before you disappear is that I can always seem to read everyone. Everyone hated my power, would always react negatively when I used it, when they found out what I could do. They don't know the extent of it, you don't know the extent of my power. It's frightening.I bet you probably never knew that. Didn't know that I'm terrified of myself, that I'm terrified that I can't read you sometimes, and i think you're dead, and I think back to the past, imagine how things may have turned out If I had let go. I'm keeping hold of that, the simple yet brutally naive idea that maybe-that I did the right choice."
A pause. Charles sighs and slouches further towards the table, elbow resting atop the counter, head resting on his hand.
"I did, you know; I never regretted it, If I had to go back, do it again I'd... I'd do it again. Go through it all, the pain and the loss and the misery, because those short moments where like glimpses of something that I can't even reach out for anymore, like the sight of land after years and years lost at sea. Glimpses of something that I can no longer attain. It's that, those secret moments together, those fleeting moments of bliss, knowing that there was someone-god-" Charles breaks off into a breathy gasp and only then does Erik realize that Charles is crying, silent tears that he shouldn't be shedding. "I wasn't alone, and it felt like you understood but you left, you left and everything broke apart."
Erik can't move, or doesn't want to, but he can speak; there are no words, though, to give, he has no soothing words to wipe away the anguish, not words to explain himself, to apologize because all he knows, all he can acknowledge is that it's his fault, plain and simple. There was a moment, the one that could have changed everything, changed the world and he had walked away without a word, without cause because he was afraid. Erik was afraid to lose all that he had but he lost it anyway.
He lost Charles.
Suddenly Charles' head snapped to the side and he looked at Erik dead on with wide, surprised blue eyes, tear tracks drying on his flushed cheeks, crystallized droplets clinging onto his lashes pathetically. His hair was mussed and Charles took a brief moment to stand and take a step back, followed by another shaky step.
"E-Erik!" Charles sounded genuinely shocked. Erik figures he must have not noticed when the metal-kine had awoken from his induced slumber. "Oh, iErik/i, I'm dreadfully sorry for having done what I did today, but please understand that I-I'm stressed and tired and I lost control of my powers briefly, I'm so, iso/i sorry!" Charles, mortified, started to shake his head and when those pleading blue eyes struck Erik's partially dazed gaze Erik found his mind echoing those words that had been slipped in the morose soliloquy.
"They don't know the extent of it, you don't know the extent of my power. It's frightening.I bet you probably never knew that. Didn't know that I'm terrified of myself" And Erik couldn't, for the life of him, stay angry or hurt at what Charles had done. Not when he looked so obviously wrecked, the dark spot under his eyes more pronounced, the weariness behind the guilt and pain in those marvelous eyes, the way his shoulders sagged like a man that has given up. That wasn't Charles. No, Charles was the kind of guy that would jump into sub-zero waters to save a stranger, reach into the murky, dark depths of his mind only to bring out the light that was thought to be extinguished. No, Charles was the kind of man that would turn his back on the strict moral code to hold a man silent while Erik, Erik-
"Stop it. Please, Erik, please just-stop. Thinking." Charles whispers and Erik winces. Erik carefully and slowly made to sit up on the bad, not breaking eye contact. Charles seemed hesitant and a little afraid but he didn't move, didn't leave or speak, just waited for Erik to finish getting into position.
"You know, right? You know what's going to happen." Erik finally spoke, a little pleased that his voice was as strong as it was and not as gruff as he'd expect. His throat felt like shards of glass had pummeled their way down his esophagus.
"I'm a telepath, Erik." Charles spoke slowly, cautiously. "Not a clairvoyant." He's stalling and they both know it. The air in the room is suffocating and what was once a warm caress in the room has quickly shifted into a scalding embrace bent to suffocate, air shifts once more, to something bitter. Something almost tragic, nostalgic.
Erik swallows the knot in his throat, ignoring the pain.
"You know, though, you saw it in my mind. You know what I'm going to say." Erik pauses and Charles stubbornly remains silent."Then go ahead. Say what you always do, what you know I will always fight." and in his mind there's a challenge, a constant "Do it do it do it do it-"that's running over and over and over again like a scratched record, repeating the same curt verse. It's the same every time; the same patterns, the same routine.
Meaningless squabbles. Empty words. Broken promises. The ghost of the past keeping them at arms length.
It's all they have left, really. There's the fear that anything more will truly break them apart, that anything less will strengthen the rift and push them apart until there is nothing less. Worse of all is the fear that maybe they will talk, and not argue, and their words will finally have meaning, and the past will be forgotten, and the future will become hazy, their relationship will change and suddenly everything will complicate and the walls will come tumbling down and the wounds that hadn't fully healed will reopen and, and-
-and Erik doesn't believe that he deserves the forgiveness, the second chance.
He doesn't deserve Charles.
It's him, he's out there and the waters are dark and cold, numbing and there's no end to the abyss. The submarine is already deep underwater and there's no way to get it back, no way to complete his mission and he's too late, too late, always too late.
The watch on his wrist goes tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
The air is crushed from his lungs in the increasing pressure of the water as he slinks deeper and deeper in, fighting to remain conscious as he fights to keep his hold on the submarine.
Always too late.
Tick-Tock.
Warm arms wrap around his chest, a smooth voice breaks his attention and the mantra of 'get him get him won't let him go, not this time' and suddenly he's no longer alone anymore, he's here, in these bitter waters, blind and there's nothing captured in his outstretched hands: not Shaw, not the submarine. All he sees when he opens his eyes in the stinging waters is the faint silhouette of the ship as it disappears from his grasp.
"Let go. You have to let this go."
He's too late.
"Erik. Stop." Charles pleads.
Erik bites his lips. It's impossible to stop now. He's tired, tired of this game, of this charade that they put up. He's wounded worse than ever, and this is the only way to heal. He had promised to never think, to never remember but there's no other way.
The memories are all he has left.
His name is Charles. His sister is Raven, blue and red with yellow and beautiful no matter what she thinks. Amazingly Charles doesn't see the discomfort she feels in her own natural skin. He laughs. He smiles. His eyes shine when they talk and he's exuberant where Erik is wary, he's kind where Erik is gruff. They stay at a government base and spend more time together than alone. Charles knows that Erik itches to leave.
"You can leave whenever you want" Charles says solemnly a week later.
There's no smile. No light in his eyes.
Erik stays anyway.
They find others just like them, other mutants.
Tick-Tock.
There's Logan. He's ruthless, like an animal. Raven makes a joke and calls him "Wolverine". They all laugh; the government mercenary keeps the name. Three years later the very same costume will be strewn across the floor of a murder scene. The name will be filed under "deceased" in government files.
There's Emma. She wears white like snow and is like Charles. She looks down at everyone else. Charles is stronger than her. She doesn't mess with him. Or Erik.
Then there's Rogue, who's more afraid of herself than anyone. Her hair is brown with strips of white. Her smile is worn, her smile is faked. She looks tired. (of What?) She looks tired of living.
Scott is a prude. He speaks to everyone as if he's older, but he's barely passed twenty.
Tick-Tock.
Shaw finds them. Attacks their base.
Rogue isn't seen again.
The group starts to break away.
Erik never leaves Charles' side.
Between them there is only silence. Charles looks dazed. Erik bites at his lip and closes his eyes.
It's time to relive their past.
They take Henry McCoy, a brilliant, bright young mind that is so similar to Charles, so similar to Raven. He worked with the CIA. Charles takes him into his and Raven's old brick home, pointing out scientific marvels as they pass.
The government is angry. They send their agent to talk to them.
Moira is smart, CIA and ready to do what's right even though it's against orders. Erik is wary, but eventually tolerates and begins to enjoy the operatives' presence. She looks at Charles with longing.
Erik wonders if he has that same look on his face, too.
Tick-Tock.
She's the first to die in the explosion. The east wing completely collapses over Erik and Moira. The impact was directly on the wall she leaned on. Erik couldn't bare to look at the mangled, mutilated corpse he pulled out of the ruble.
She deserved to die with dignity.
Erik is angry. The only portion of the wall left standing has scorch marks that look like hand prints and scratch marks on the bricks beside the prints.
Charles told him that the only think that could harm the modified blocks is diamond.
Emma is no where to be found.
That night they make love. Charles is hurt and Erik is lonely and he's wanted Charles for so long and there are tears, sobs and pants and Charles goes to sleep instantly as Erik stays awake the whole night watching Charles sleep because he's beautiful, he's humanity and perfection and the only thing that gives him hope in mankind, in a dark world that devours people and spits them out just the way Erik has been tossed out.
Tick-tock.
The next day, Charles trains with him.
"I believe that the source of your power lies between rage and serenity."
Erik thinks of his mother but the image is riddle with guilt and remorse. Instead, he thinks of Charles in his bed, tears drying, cheeks flushed, hair mussed.
The satellite moves upon his command.
Charles laughs and they grin at each other. Erik's heart flutters at the sight of Charles' almost shy smile.
Serenity.
Tick-Tock.
Shaw. He had been there all along, using Emma and her mind to attack them when they least expect it.
He taunts them.
"Your mother-"
Too late.
"-Rogue-"
Too late.
There's a hand around Charles' throat. Bruises are blooming under the tight grip and Emma is fighting a red Russian with a devilish grin and a pointed tail that whips angrily behind his brusque form. She's crying and muttering but Shaw can't hear, can't feel the regret-anger-loathing that the telepath is emitting.
Always too late.
Tick-
Erik cries out as he charges at Shaw. They scramble on the floor of the charred study, each kick a ton of bricks, each punch is bone-crushing and finally, finally, Shaw pins Erik to the wall. Shaw smirks and taunts and jeers but Erik doesn't hear as Charles takes down Azazel from the inside out; the mutant simply vanishes silently in a puff of acrid smoke. Shaw smirks and his hand begins to glow with energy buildup.
"And now you, mein sohn, maybe if you had remained by my side you could have lived, could have been powerful." Shaw sighs dramatically, perhaps too trusting of his henchman.
Serenity.
Really, Shaw must have known better than to wear a metal helmet.
It's off Before Shaw blinks.
Charles is in Shaw's head.
"I never made it a secret, Charles. You knew. You had always known, hadn't you? That I would kill him?"
"...yes."
He stops when he hears Charles cry out. The Reichsmark slips out of Shaw's skull with as little as a small crack.
Charles collapses. Raven cries out. Hank holds her as she tries to scramble to her brother with busted knees and a twisted ankle. Erik is breathing hard and yells at them to leave.
The metal in the entire mansion rattles.
They leave without another word.
Emma is crying on the floor. Erik ignores her for Charles, who's groaning and bleeding from his nose.
"C-Calm your mind, my friend." Erik wants to cry. He doesn't deserve to be called as such. "R-Remember. Rage and serenity."
"Charles, you are my serenity."
It's sad how honest he is.
-tock.
His watch, an old thing from before he escaped Shaw, is in ruins beside Shaw's dead, stiff body.
It's late.
"I left because...because I knew that if I stayed I would keep hurting you. I left because the government wanted us to become their personal army. They wanted us to fight their wars, to be their pawns." Erik says carefully. Charles stays quite. He only moves forward, one step at a time. "I couldn't-registration, Charles. And then everyone, Hank retired, Wolverine left to work for the government and-and-"
"Erik. I don't mean to, to sound so vain but why did you-oh, I'm sorry. Nevermind. I must be more tired than I thought." Charles quirks a slight grin and turns.
But Erik heard him. In his head.
"Why did you leave me?"
"I love you"
Charles. Charles.
He leaves in the cover of the night.
His chest tightens painfully and he closes his eyes, tries to pass of the tingles of reminiscent touches on his back and chest as chills to no avail.
He's just going to hurt Charles.
He's dark and can't continue with this; registration, murder, hatred. This is what Erik is for. Charles shouldn't be tainted by this corrupt world.
And Erik is the most corrupt there is out there.
A figure watches from the window.
Blue eyes close. Tears beg to be freed. A sigh escapes kiss-swollen lips and Charles lays back against the pillows on the window-sill.
"I promise to never leave your side"
Charles wanted to laugh ruefully.
"You can't lie to a telepath" he had wanted to say.
Before he laid in bed he gave Erik a final kiss, short and sweet and painful.
It was a goodbye.
Erik can't lie.
He's a little scared.
"Charles I-"
"Please. Please don't. I don't think I could bear to hear what you have to say." Charles whispers, leaning against the wall to the right of the bed. Erik opens his mouth to speak before thinking twice.
"What was I going to say?" Erik finally asks.
"That you didn't mean to. You didn't want to hurt me. Taint me. I don't need to read your mind, Erik. I know you. I know how people are now. I know how they think." Charles' smile is rueful now. Forced. Faked.
It makes Erik rethink his original objective.
"You don't know-"
"Yes, you've said that before." Erik retorts before thinking. Charles freezes and Erik almost takes back his words. Almost.
"S-So you heard that, did you?" Charles bites out tartly. "well, that is what it is and I won't retract a word of my supposed soliloquy if it makes you think any better of the situation." Charles' voice is harsh and bitter but those eyes, those expressive, blue eyes speak volumes. They speak of sadness and dejection, of bleak nights and lonely days.
Not for the first time Erik thinks that maybe Charles waited for him the next morning, waited for him to return, to keep all those promises that he made, to keep that smile on Charles' lips, to simply stay but he hadn't. He ran away, like he always did. Because that's what he knew to do, the only thing, right? He ran away from the battle, ran away from the peace, because deep inside he knew that he hadn't meant "Peace was never an option" he meant that this-what they could have had wasn't an option, not for him, not for this despicable coward that made promises of forever and couldn't even stay until the next morning.
"You seem to keep these strange delusions," Charles started, eyes mysterious and unreadable as they observe Erik most dutifully," that I am some sort of intemerate idol that mustn't be even tinged in an ounce of shadow in fear of being tainted or wiped out." Erik flushed slightly but his gaze didn't waver away from Charles' for any instant. The silence casually spread and Charles sighed, broke eye contact and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "You're wrong. I know plenty of the horrors of the world."
"But you don't let it change you." Erik interjects, pushing himself so that he sits over the edge of the bed instead of sitting up against the wall and headboard. "And that-that is what makes you Charles."
It may be the right thing to say, or maybe the worst, but Charles' eyes are full of tears and his body quivers ever-so-slightly. Erik's eyes widen marginally and he dashes forward to envelope his arms around the smaller man's torso. Despite the earlier fatigue and confusion, his body is quick and lithe. His arms go around that trim waist and press Charles into his shoulder with so softly, so gently that Charles shakes with the sheer affection in it. Erik bites his lip as Charles' smaller frame shakes with the sobs that wrack through his body.
"How, no, why? Even after all this time, after everything, why do you still see me like that? Like I'm-I'm something precious and-" Charles' hands clench Erik's black turtleneck in pale, trembling fists. "I-I know that I'm not, I'm not but you-"
"Charles," Erik mutters and Charles stops and waits," to me, you will always be the light. Optimism." Erik states as he slips a hand from the small of Charles' back to his damp cheek, moving the telepath's face from his shoulder. Charles freezes, their eyes lock and the space between them shrinks until Erik is all but breathing Charles' air.
"Perfection."
Their lips pressed together in a firm but gentle touch, brushing once before meeting again and Charles' eyes prickled with he sheer, visceral ardor that softened the hardened edges of both their minds.
It had been too long.
Each long, slow kiss was finalized with a smaller one, like another apology for all the time wasted, all of the times they would meet, just like this, claim their sides just like this but never touch the tender subjects, unlike today, unlike tonight, reliving and seeing all of that which led them here, to this moment, kissing under the illusion that they'll remain together, just like this, tomorrow. But Charles is satisfied, despite hearing the whispers of tomorrow, next week, next month, years to come, forever in Erik's mind, he'll be satisfied with today, with right here, right now because he knows that forever fades away, that eternity is only a myth and it's best to get what he can, to feel this way right now because tomorrow, tomorrow Erik will be gone, and tomorrow he will wake up, he'll look around and feel as lifeless as he has for weeks.
But Erik is here, the warmth that's bursting in his chest is flowing through his numb body is there, keeps growing and tomorrow can wait.
Charles has no qualms in wrapping his arms around Erik's neck to press himself closer, doesn't hesitate to quickly pull himself up and wrap his bared legs around Erik's waist. His eyes are still prickling with tears as Erik's lips whisper sweet lies and promises into his ear while he tries to pull the shirt off of Erik's broad frame. They landed in the bed ad Charles quickly pressed himself against Erik, kissing at those barely moving lips to silence, to stifle the endearments because each word was like another ache to his heart and each kiss is a pardon.
But most of all, he can't stand to look into those mossy green eyes, to think of what Erik sees in Charles and know who Charles really is. He can't stand those appraising eyes that stare at him like he's this perfect marvel and know that he's everything but.
A hand brushes the hem of Charles' shirt and Charles shudders and tears his lips away.
"Do it. Do it." Charles breaths, starting at the top buttons with shaky hands. "I want you to, god, Erik, do it." Erik's eyes flutter and almost shut but those hands-large and warm with harsh callouses, start to slowly unbutton the crisp white shirt until both sides spread themselves open to reveal creamy pale skin, marred with lightly raised scars. The whisper of a touch causes Charles to gasp and arch his back, pressing into the noticable bulge in Erik's trousers. Erik shifts in his straddling and suddenly Charles is looking down on Erik.
"Will you be here... in the morning?"
Tick-Tock
Charles buries his head in the crook of Erik's neck and waits patiently, mesmerized by the thump-thump-thump of Erik's pulse and their joint breathing.
Tic-Tock
"Only if you want me." 'Or I can stay here forever.' Comes Erik's thought right behind his response.
'Forever fades away' Charles wants to say but he doesn't, he can't because it's Erik. Erik, so cold and harsh but incredibly kind because he still waits, waits for humanity to prove him wrong, never strikes until there's another word put in. He still thinks that somehow, someday humanity can redeem itself. Erik is beautiful.
Charles closes his eyes and feels out his power, trespasses into Erik's mind and implants a slight suggestion that won't come into fruition until later.
Because in the morning, Charles will wake up alone.
He's made sure of it.
Erik sighs and places a kiss to Charles' lips before slowly slipping his hands down the telepath's sides to rest at the navy waistband.
And for now, for these few seconds, it's only them two, basking in their mortality as time slowly ceases to Exist.
Tick...
...Tock
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping in,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.-"The Sound Of Silence"