A/N: Dear Sir Elton John: SCREW YOUR DAMNED ANGSTY MUSIC. This is the third song I've used! Christ! Quit inspiring me!

Warnings: implied sex, angst, Charles/Erik. Quite melancholy. Set wayyy post-FC, but talks about stuff from FC.

Disclaimer: If I owned X-Men, Erik would be required to talk in French all the time. B/c that is a freaking romantic language, man. :D

PS: I got all my translations from Google Translate, so please don't blame me if I screwed up. XD

What do I do to make you want me,

What have I got to do to be heard.

What do I say when it's all over,

And sorry seems to be the hardest word.

'Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word', Elton John.

I love you.

These are the words that Charles calls to Erik in his dreams; these are the words that he says with a broken smile. I love you, Erik, won't you stay with me?

And Erik always replies, yes. Yes, I will. And he fixes that smile, he fixes that heart – he fixes the things he never should have broken.

Ich liebe dich. Those are the words that Erik still calls to his mother in his nightmares, and the words he whispers to Charles in a helpless memory. (Is that German for 'I love you'? – If it is? – Then I love you, too, Erik . . . Oh, Charles and his complete lack of understanding of German beyond 'ja' and 'mein Gott' – arguably the words he heard the most often.)

Je t'aime. This he breathes in Charles's ear in his best fantasy, his voice laced with love and lust and God-Charles-why-do-I-love-you-so-much (he hadn't even known that was a feeling until it was too late to ask the question – he'd been too busy with slick skin and hot hands to realize how emotions could linger).

Te amo. This he laughs out in a pleasant daydream, and in his ridiculously fond imaginings Charles flicks a chess piece at him childishly and says, "You're a cheat, Erik." To which Erik replies teasingly: "Yes, but you're a fool if you didn't see it coming, Charles."

(And every time he remembers this, the memory sours – because Erik isn't a cheat, he's a traitor – and Charles had been a fool, a naïve, brilliant fool.)

Ich liebe dich, je t'aime, te amo, I love you. All words that Erik once uttered, and how he longs to say them again. (Not just say – he wants to scream them from rooftops, he wants to sob them into pillows, he wants to write Charles love sonnets and ballads if that will just make everything alright.)

He never says them again, not after that day on the beach – but, in his amateurish, non-telepathic way, he projects them. And of course Charles, with his awe-inspiring mind, hears every single word.

Ich habe nie aufgehört, dich zu lieben.

This he says in his head as he stares at Charles, and Charles's only outward sign of confusion is a slight hitch of his eyebrow (but Erik is studying him far too closely to miss it).

I have never stopped loving you, he translates.

Charles doesn't say anything, but Erik knows just by the way he moves his plastic chesspiece that it is far too late. And Erik knows by the way Charles lets him win that Charles is sorry.

(Sorry for what? This is all your fault, Erik Lehnsherr, he reminds himself. He cannot even bring himself to say Magneto anymore, because if he is Magneto, then Charles is Professor X, and Professor X does not love Erik.)

I love you, he cries out in the back of his brain even when he is free of his plastic hell (he much prefers the metal hell; at least there he can shape his torment). But he forces this back – he forces himself to become Magneto once more, and as he watches Charles die before his eyes, he knows that he has paid the price. And the price is not metal, the price is not plastic, the price is not a forfeited chess game; the price is Charles, and he pays it.

I love you. Te amo. Je t'aime. Ich liebe dich. This he repeats in a quiet, dull mantra as he stares at yet another chessboard. This time, Charles's empty silence (for no matter what Erik used to think, the dead can't speak) says both nothing and everything all at once.

Es tut mir leid.

Je suis désolé.

Lo siento.

These words he murmurs quietly to himself as he beckons to the chesspiece weakly – he'd never learned to say any of these phrases before, because he'd never had a need for them until now. But now he knows them all too well.

I'm sorry.

Charles does not answer – Charles can not answer. Erik is well aware that his friend is dead, and he is well aware that he's lost his mind.

But still he only smiles sadly, and repeats: I'm sorry.

It is a sad truth, but the language of regret is the only one Erik truly knows anymore.

A/N: Angsty. Reviews are love!