So, here is another chap. Thank u, Twilight684, MirrorFlower and DarkWind, for the reviews.
Uhh, ja, so, I try to update as fast as possible, though I have a troublesome time at the moment. But, don't worry, I think I'll manage to update in a week.
Yeah, and the lyrics at the beginning belong to the Song "My Darling" by Wilco. A lovely song. (that I do not own, of course.)
See U as soon as possible.
"Go back to sleep now
My darling
And I'll keep all the bad dreams away
Breathe now, think sweet things
And I'll think of all the right words to say
Because we made you
My darling
With the love in each of our hearts
We were a family, my darling
Right from the start..."
(Wilco, My Darling)
Chapter 8
Why is war necessary?
There were a few reasons, at least for Erik.
The metal-bender looked down at Raven; Raven, who poked him with her finger, over and over again, yelling at him, telling him that he was a good damn fool, that he had no right to start a war, that this would affect all of them, and by the way, what will Charles think?
As if Charles would care.
Well, Erik thought as he stared at Raven, hardly listening to her words which were sounding like a roar to his ears, He will care. He will blame it on himself. He will be totally depressed...
But, could it be even worse than now? Yes, sure it could be worse, it could always be worse, and that was why Erik had decided one thing; "He won't know."
Raven's finger stopped, hovering in the air just mere inches in front of Erik's chest. "What?" She asked, her eyebrows raised as she glared at Erik. There was disbelief in her eyes.
"He will not know." Erik repeated calmly, no emotions visible on his face. "'I'll make sure of that. I won't tell him anything about the war." His eyes turned to the boys, who stood at the banisters. "And you won't tell him either."
Raven took several steps backwards, laughing hysterically as she raised her arms. "Oh, sure! Let's lie to him, because that is the best and only thing we can do for him right now, right? OHHH,I am sure it will help! I am sure he won't find out anything, because war is something you can oh so easily hide! I am sure he won't notice the bombs, I am sure he won't notice if anyone of us fucking DIES!"
Erik did not flinch, did not make a single movement as she began to yell, her voice raising in volume. "He is a bloody telepath Erik! HE WILL KNOW! Do you even know what you have done! Do you even have a plan! God damn it, you...you idiot! You damn idiot!" And she was crying again, because she was so so angry, and her voice was tight, her face twisted in despair and pain; the pain of of feeling deceived.
Erik's eyes turned to the boys once again; he was not surprised to see the anger in Alex's face, not surprised by the sadness in Sean's eyes. Though, he was surprised that they stayed calm. Raven was the only one who screamed and yelled, probably because she was the only one who had less respect of him than the others. Well, not less respect...She only saw him in another light.
For her, he was Erik Lehnsherr, just another stupid idiot who had probably driven them all into misery. She was afraid, and she cared, cared about her brother who hardly noticed her in his current state.
For the boys he was an authority figure; they feared the man he could be, the man he was at the moment. Raven, however, did not care WHO he was, she only cared for what he had done, and what he would do. To her he was a normal man, no hero, no villian, no god. It would change, maybe, probably, when the war would start; she would have respect, she would see him as their leader, some day, in the future.
"Do you even listen to me?" She poked him again, tried to poke him, but he grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip, making her gasp in surprise. "Stop that now." he said, his voice as cold as his eyes. "Don't talk to me in that way."
She opened her mouth, stubbornness and anger in her features, but Erik spoke before she could say something else. "I can understand your anger. But you can't tell me that you have not thought about the possibillity of war against the humans."
Her face turned slack, only her lips were trembling. Oh, he had been right..
"See." he said, almost softly as he released her hand. She did not try to poke him again. "I know that you are angry, at me and at them, and I know that you want to see them suffer for what they have done to Charles." She shivered as he mentioned her brother's name. "And we all have known that the day would come where we would end up in a war against them."
Alex snorted, causing Erik to turn his gaze to the blonde boy next to Sean. "Honestly?" the blonde spat. "That's bullshit!"
Erik raised on eyebrow, his face a perfect mask of no emotions as he answered with his smooth voice, "For you. Not for me. I know how to achive my goals. Peace, kind words...the way Charles has tried it...You see that it has not worked."
Alex laughed dryly, leaning back against the dark wall. He was almost melting with the shadows. "It could have worked." His voice was small, stubborn. He was trying to cling to the illusion of peace that Charles had tried to built; he tried not to lose his hope, the hope that Charles had given him, them, but Erik could see that the walls of faith were crumbling...
"It could have." Erik agreed calmly. "But you see, it has not. I have given them a chance because Charles has asked me to do so. I did what I was asked to do, and you see what happened. " Long enough he had done what other wanted him to do. Now was HIS time to do it HIS way.
The kids were quiet.
The look on their face...It was something between sadness, disappointment and hurt. And suddenly Erik felt a slight twinge inside his guts. Guilt, he realized.
But, why?
Why did he feel guilty?
Because of their sad expression?
Because of the reproachful glances?
Because they were young, younger than he was?
Because,...Because maybe they were right?
NO, his mind scolded him sternly, too stubborn to ponder about what was right and what was wrong. You have done the only right thing! This is the only way to show the humans that WE are stronger than they are! They shall fear US! WE are supposed to rule the world, WE are the next step of the evolution!
Raven, Hank, Sean, Alex...They were children, young adults, they did know NOTHING about war and about the horror it would bring, but they did also know NOTHING about how horrible it could be to stand under the mercy of someone else, to be imprisoned, to be doomed to die slowly and painfully...To have no freedom..
You have done the right thing, his inner voice told himself, you should not feel guilty.
Erik had his reasons; Erik did know why he was doing what he was doing. Someday the children would understand him, and someday they would thank him for what he had done. Someday, when the war would be over, and everything was alright.
Everything, and everyone..
Charles...
"Maybe...Maybe there won't be a war..."Sean began, his voice small and not convincing at all. It was not Erik who answered him, instead it was Raven; her voice was shallow as she turned around to face the red-haired boy. "Don't fool yourself, Sean..."
Maybe it was the way she spoke, maybe the way she stood, her shoulders hunched forward and her eyes dull, but somehow Erik had the feeling that she had given up on peace. On the illusion of peace. The illusion that Charles had created. She had realized that there was no other way. She knew he was right.
Sean's eyes were wide, wide and green as he looked down on her, his pale hand gripping the banister in a tight grip. "I won't give it up." He said, his voice calm and steady; he stood tall, his gaze lowered so that he looked down on Raven. His red hair seemed too red for the dim lit hallway.
Erik knew that he meant hope. Poor boy, his mind sighed, poor naive boy. Some day he would realize it as well, some day he would SEE...
"There will always be hope, you can't suppress it; it is like a small light, a small spark inside your heart, and you are feeding it, day for day, with your dreams and wishes, until some day this small spark will be a fire. And this fire will warm you if you are cold, will be your light if there is only darkness; this fire will save you. It is one, simple thing, hope, but it can change so much. A lot of things depend on hope, my dear friend, and I am not ashamed to tell you that my hope might be greater than the knowledge that I possess.."
Hope...
Where is it, your hope, Charles? Where has it gone? And, most importantly; where was his, Erik's, own hope? Charles had been his hope; Charles had embodied the hope of all of them.
Charles' hope had been a fire, now it was just a spark, a tiny spark, if a spark at all. And, Erik feared that he had choked off this spark - had choked off this spark already, with the upcomming war. The war that HE had demanded, the war that HE had declared..
But, Charles did not need to know...
Erik just hoped he had not messed it up.
If just everything would be alright...
He wanted to see Charles.
Erik walked past the young adults, up the stairs, quietly. None of them said a word.
The hallway was dark, he could barely see anything; the shadows were dark, darker than the grayish blue light of the night, darker than the silver of the moon. The dim light from the lower floor looked like fire against the bluish darkness of the wooden floor and the dark wall.
He did not turn on the light.
Erik liked the darkness, for now he liked it. Somehow he felt safe in it..
He looked down; the magenta of his cotton jacket seemed to glow in the darkness, strange, and his footsteps echoed through the hallway, a steady thump thump thump against the wooden floor. It was the only sound that could be heared.
Erik stopped in front of the wooden door, his gloved hand hovering over the metal door handle. His hearting was pounding inside his chest. Why?
His fingers curled around the handle, slowly pushing it down. The door opened quietly, the door hinges creaking; the room in front of his eyes was dark, dark besides the small light on the bedside table. Charles had never liked the darkness.
Erik walked up to the big double bed, slowly, carefully, trying not to make a sound as he stopped in front of it. The blankets are green, he realized, dark green like the curtains in the hallway.
Charles had curled up into a ball, lying on his side. He was fast asleep. Hank must have given him something to help him sleep well, because Erik was sure that he hadn't seen Charles asleep for days, at least not willingly. The younger man always refused to go to sleep. The nightmares...
Charles' brow furrowed, and his face looked grim. Erik crouched down, taking the helmet off of his head, placing it next to himself on the floor. Charles mouth twitched, and he tightened the blanket around his small form. Yes, small, he looked small in the big bed. Small, and pale.
He has become thinner, Erik suddenly noticed as studied the face of the telepath. And the circles under his eyes have become darker...
He had never taken a closer look, because Charles would back away. Now, however, Erik could see everything very well.
The M above Charles right eye had healed well, it was a scar now, red against his too pale skin. It will fade. Someday it will fade, like the rest.
It would fade, but not disappear.
It would never disappear, as well as the memories.
Charles still could not breathe properly; his pale lips were parted, his chest raising and falling slowly as if it was difficult to breathe. Erik smiled slightly as he pushed a strand of dark hair out of the pale face and behind Charles' ear. The sight of his friend did hurt, but at the same time it made his heart feel lighter, warmer..
It was the sight he could not bear, and the presence that he longed for.
Charles' eyelids fluttered, then he opened his eyes; they were clouded, unfocused, something dark lying over the bright blue. He was looking tired, tired and ill. But, there hadn't been a single day the past month where he hadn't looked like that.
"Hello, Charles." Erik whispered, his voice soft, much softer than the voice he had used for the talk witht the children; there was more love in it, more care.. "It was not my intention to wake you."
The telepath stared at him, his dull eyes searching for something, trying to focus, eyelids fluttering because he was so tired. It seemed to take too much effort to keep his eyes open, let alone stay awake. Erik could hear the small sound of Charles' heavy breathing. Charles did not blink as his left hand tightened around the green blanket, his thin fingers digging into the soft fabric.
He wasn't afraid, wasn't he?
Erik smiled, slightly, but Charles just stared. It has to be the light, Erik mused. He can barely see my face because the light of the nightstand is too dim.
"It's me, Charles." He said, carefully, as if Charles wouldn't know that it was him. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. "You should go back to sleep now."
Charles blinked, confused?, pressing his lips together. He looked stubborn, though this expression was soon fading away; Charles was tired; too tired to mistrust Erik or anyone else, and so his eyes fell shut again, the grip around the fabric of the blanket loosened until his fingers let go of it. The dim light of the lamp cast dark shadows on his pale skin, which was almost gleaming in a soft golden hue.
Erik sat there and stared, looking at the pale and ill-looking face of his friend, his love, his Charles. He did not look peaceful, not even if he was asleep; his face was always stern, always without the hint of a smile, serious, and pained. And there was a sadness in his features, a sadness that once had been joy...
If he would just say something, anything, no matter what it was; Erik missed his voice, missed the presence in the back of his head. He felt so lonely without it. And he felt tired, suddenly, tired and lonely, and he wished that it would have never happened.
Charles would have stopped me, Erik realized as he sat there at the cold wooden floor in front of the big double bed. He would have stopped me from starting a war. He would have found a way, he would have known what to do, I am sure of that. Though...
..Though, even Charles was just a man, and even Charles had his limits.
And so Erik sat there, sat and stared and was quiet while he hugged his knees with his arms like a frightened child. Not frightened, his inner voice corrected him. A lonely child. He was not utterly lonely, he still had the kids, of course, and all the other mutants out there, but...But he missed Charles, because Charles had been a part of him, was still a part of him, something important, something that...was not there anymore, not inside his head, not in the back of his mind, not present at all..
He was there, but not with them, and it made Erik so damn sad and depressed. Frustrated, his inner voice whispered. You are frustrated.
If he could fix him, he would; he would gather up all the broken pieces, all the silly hopes and dreams and rebuilt Charles until he was Charles again, the real Charles...Not the shadow of a man he once had been...
If, if, if! Erik was so angry, angry at the world and himself and at the humans, at everyone. Even at Charles, because...Because he was withdrawing himself from the rest of the world, because he refused to live in the real world, because he was leaving Erik alone... Of course that was selfish, selfish of Erik to think that way, but he could not help it...
No one could change his current situation besides he himself, and so Erik tried the best to make it better.
He had to be strong.
For all of them.
Especially for Charles.
Erik sighed as he leaned his forehead on his arms, inhaling deeply; his clothes smelled like fresh spring air and the cotton of his jacket itched against the skin of his forehead.
He did not notice that he fell asleep.
...
Charles looked down onto the white paper in front of him. A red metal pen was lying next to it.
Hank sat across from him, his paws folded in front of him on the table. He eyed Charles with an interested gleam in his eyes; he was curious. "If you don't want to talk," he had said, "you can write it down. I know that your right hand...is still a problem, but it should work with your left hand. As far as I remember you've once told me that you are ambidextrous. What do you think?"
Yes, what did Charles think?
Somehow Charles felt really blank, as blank as the paper, as he stared down on it. He did not want to write down anything, neither would he use his telepathy; he didn't want to be in the head of someone else, not anymore...
So Charles stared down on the white paper on the lab table, stared and pondered. Somehow he had no strenght to start a talk.
What was Erik doing at the moment? Charles had seen him today during breakfast, and he was sure he could vaguely remember that Erik had been in his room during the night, but he was not sure. The other man had looked grim, grim and deep in thoughts, and Charles had asked himself what Erik was thinking about.
"Charles?" Charles blinket and looked up to meet Hank's gaze. The blue furred mutant had tilted his head. The blue fur seemed too blue for the white lab coat and was shiny in the light of the lamps. His eyes looked like those of a cat, eyeing Charles with a serious expression. "Please try it. It is important."
"Though-" he added "I won't force you."
Charles knew he wouldn't do something like that, never, not Hank, but he also knew that Hank desperatly hoped that he would achive a success. It had to be frustrating. It was frustrating. For both of them. But,it was not as easy as Hank might believed... Charles stared at the paper, stared and stared as if it would disappear if he stared long enough.
Charles could not say how long they sat there, both staring at the paper as if it was a kind of miracle. Maybe...Maybe he should write something, anything, to make Hank happy. He was sure the blue scientist would be more than happy. And, after all, this was not about Hank; this was about him, about Charles. Hank wanted to help him, and so it was up to Charles to take this help.
His left hand reached for the pen, slowly, carefully wrapping his fingers around the cool metal. Metal...
Hank's eyes widened, watching Charles, who was fully aware that Hank stared at him.
What to write? What to say?
He sat the pen down on the paper; his hand trembled and he asked himself why. Charles was not sure if he was nervous, or why it was so difficult for him to write something down on a paper. He could not say why he was not able to speak.
Somehow he never had the strenght to bring the words over his lips; they stuck in his throat while his chest would tighten painfully, causing him more troubled breathing. Now his hand was trembling, trembling while he moved the pen over the paper. The ink was dark blue. It looked like Hank's fur against the lab coat.
Charles liked the scratchy sound of the lead of the pen. He wrote to words, just two, and pushed the paper over the table.
Hank took the paper, carefully, as if he was afraid it would crumble under his touch, looking down on it. A small smile crossed his blue lips.
Hello Hank.
"Hello Charles." He said, still smiling as he pushed the paper over the table, back to Charles. "How are you today?"
Charles looked at Hank, thoughtfully, thinking, then he scribbled his answer on the paper and pushed it back over the table. Hank's eyes flew over the paper.
I feel okay. I had better times.
How are you?
Hank laughed, a soft laughter, as he pushed the paper back to Charles. "I am fine. More than fine."
And Charles knew, without looking inside Hank's mind, that Hank was more than happy. And this was when Charles smiled, just slightly, because he was glad that Hank was happy.
Finally a success, a small success, something that Hank could work with.
Charles also knew that Hank would not push him, not when he had finally achived a small success. Hank was not stupid, he was well aware that this was not easy for Charles.
We will start with easy things, Charles thought, small talk, unimportant things..
Trying to gain my trust, then start talking about important things, about what is going on inside my head, considering if I am beyond redemption...
Talking, looking, trying to fix what is broken, gathering it back together, placing back the pieces, melting it togethe, making me whole again, waiting for future success..
Charles was okay with that. In fact, he was glad; glad that he could finally talk to someone. Maybe not with his mind, and not with his voice, but ...it was nice. He wouldn't have thought that it would be...such a relief.
The 'talk' with Hank had been a nice change in Charles' daily life.
They hadn't talked about much, and would have been totally boring to every normal person, but for Charles it was a start. It was weird, at least for Charles, that a conversation could be such a problem. Usually he never had had any problems with starting a conversation; there had always been a topic, always something to talk about. He had longed for the presence of others around him, and it had been almost unbearable for him to stay alone.
Well, but things had changed.
"It is so great." Raven said, her voice cheerfully as she wheeled him down the hallway. They were on their way to the living room. "I am so glad, you know?"
Of course he knew. But he also sensed that something was bothering his sister, and again it was not his telepathy but pure instinct. Charles turned his head to follow the rays of the sun through the open window. Such a nice day today,like yesterday. The sky was blue, without a cloud. This summer would be great.
"Are you hungry, Charles? Do you want to eat something?" He furrowed his brow, tilting his head. Where was Sharon? He hadn't seen her today.
But,no, no he was not hungry. Maybe a bit, but he wanted to see Erik, and Erik was in the livingroom because of the television. Erik was watching a lot of television lately, but Charles knew it was because of the news. He would eat something, later that day. When was lunch time? It wasn't even one pm.
"Charles, I am hungry, do you mind if I'll eat something?" Of course he did not mind. He shook his head, It's alright.
She stopped and walked around his wheelchair, her yellow eyes bright and her smile soft as she placed one hand on his shoulder. He did not flinch. "Okay, then. I'll be back in some minutes. Will you wait here or do you want to go outside?"
Charles furrowed his brow, again, because he was sure she had said something about going to the living room. He shrugged his shoulders, telling her that he did not care, and she nodded.
"Okay, then you'll wait outside, right? It's such a lovely weather, you should not stay inside. Do you have your pen and paper? Maybe you can draw something while being outside." She was babbling.
Something was worrying her. Something is on her mind.
What was going on?
She had never been good in hiding things, especially not her emotions, not from him. He was her brother, he knew her better than anyone else; the way she stood, her shoulders straight and her brow slightly furrowed, and the ever present smile on her lips...Something was troubling her. She went down the hallway, quickly, her steps steady.
Charles eyes were fixed on corner, then he turned them back to the window. He could almost feel the golden sun rays on his skin. It looked so pale, his skin, even in the sun. Especially in the sun...
Usually he had freckles, just a few, barely to be seen, but now there was not a single one to be seen. Lack of sun, his mind chirped, you really should go outside more often.
Charles tilted his head as he outstreched the fingers of his left hand in front of his face. As if to reach for the light...
He turned his head back to the corner. The living room was just around the left corner. Maybe he could take a look, at Erik. Why did he suddenly want to see Erik in such a desperate kind of way? Maybe because he felt lonely...Yes,maybe...
Charles wheeled himself down the hallway, which took a great effort since only his left hand was working probably. Well, but somehow he managed it, even if his breathing became a bit labored. Just a bit, of course...There was a slight pain in his chest, and his left hand did hurt, afterwards, because it was a great deal to move his weight down the whole hallway and into the living room.
It was his telekinesis that helped him, that pushed him forward. He did not know that.
The living room had a dark wooden floor, like the rest of the mansion, though there was a red carpet under the sofa and the small table with the television on it. The sofa was green.
The living room had big windows, windows which were letting in the sunlight so that the whole room was bright and illuminated by soft golden light. Curtains made of heavy fabric in the color of dark red framed the windows.
The bookshelves at the wall were full of old books, books that Charles knew like he knew all the books in the libary, though, at the moment he could not remember their content. One of them had been a children's story. Just one. There had never been any kind of children's storys in this house. Charles had made-up most of the storys that he had told Raven.
Erik sat on the sofa, his shoulders were hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands were folded under his chin, and his face was serious.
He did not notice Charles, not immediately.
Charles eyes wandered over Erik, eyeing him, taking in the sight. Erik wore the purple turtleneck, his favourite one, and his trousers were black. His hair was neatly combed back. Charles noticed that it had a golden hue in the light. Maybe it was just the light. Charles could not see the look in Erik's eyes, because Erik's eyes were fixed on the screen. Charles was sure they were gray and cold. They were always gray when he was angry,angry or serious. Always more gray then green.
Green?
Or, was it blue?
Charles couldn't remember.
Charles' eyes wandered to the TV screen, wondering what could cause Erik to look so grim. He felt his inside turn ice cold as he saw the two men on the screen.
One of the was Stryker. Stryker in his gray suit with a black tie and his gray hair and those cold cold eyes.
He knew the other one next to him.
Nice clothes, black hair, those voice...
That was not possible, it was not possible, he knew he had killed them, accidently, he knew it, he had seen their dead bodies, he knewheknewheknew!
But yet there he stood, talking, but Charles could not hear what he said, he just saw those lips moving, could only hear the voice, this voice again, not again!
"Xavier was your name, right? But who does care, such scum like you doesn't even need a name."
And the hand was tight around his throat, the grin was mercyless, and he could not breath, he could not think, no,nononono!
His left hand grabbed the arm of his wheelchair in a tight grip, his eyes wide but unseeing. Suddenly breathing was so difficult . He could not hear Erik's voice, he did not realize what was happening around him, all he could hear was this voice, and he could see that grin, this grin, again!
NononoNO!
NOTAGAIN!
Something shattered, a window maybe, someone was shouting, someone fell to the ground, a loud thud, things were moving...
His heart was hammering, hammering in his chest, a loud thump thump thump thump in his ears,getting louder and louder, and he bit his lower lip, hard, till it was bleeding, he could tast the blood,...
There was blood,so much blood, everywhere, his blood, and everything did hurt, so much, his head, someone was talking, no, was it real, it could not be,no, nononono, he was back in the alley, no, not those men, not again, not this laughter, laughter everywhere, and it is cold,so cold, and he could not move, could not, was trapped, trapped between a body and a wall, and was he crying, he did not know, no,no, no word, not a sound, they would kill him, he was sure, he was sure!
Stop, stopstopstopstop!
"Charles!"
He did not want to die, no,no,nonononon, no, he did not, not here, not now, go,gogogogog away, they should go, he had to make them leave, had to gather his power back together, but his head did hurt,so much, did hurt, and someone was talking, he was afraid, so afraid!
Everything was a blur.
He shivered, his throat felt so tight, and no,nono, he could not breath, his chest did hurt, and he gasped, tried to breath,breath because he needed air, but hecouldnot!
GOD, make it STOP! Not again, never, not, not again!
He had to go,had to leave, if the would not he would-
"Charles!"
He could not remember what happened afterwards.