Chapter 4
The moment the Blackbird has settled down on the beach, opposite to the submarine that is squatting on the ground like a huge, stranded whale, Erik is at Charles' side.
It's not a moment too soon, either, because Charles sways and almost goes down, only Erik's arm preventing him from painful contact with the plane's hull.
"Are you alright?" Erik asks urgently, because Shaw's right there in front of him, in a ship made of metal, but he can't, cannot leave before he's sure that Charles will be well.
Charles nods, but his hand trembles as he grips Erik's arm to steady himself.
"It seems you were right, my friend," he says weakly. "Standing is not really an option right now."
"Then sit down," Erik urges, and it occurs to him how ludicrous they must sound. "Or do you have to get closer to Shaw?"
Charles' face is pale with exhaustion, his lips are almost white, but the way he shakes his head leaves no room for doubt.
"There is a void within the submarine," he says quietly. "My mind cannot penetrate it, and since I can't sense Shaw, either, we must assume he's in there. Judging from the minds of his fellow mutants, Shaw is using the nuclear device aboard to turn himself into an atomic bomb. You have to open that void up for me, Erik, or I won't be able to stop him, but I'll be with you every step of the way. If you let me."
Erik leads him over to his seat, settles him down, then gestures for Sean, Alex and Hank to take on Shaw's remaining mutants, and for Moira and Raven to stay right where they are.
"Don't let him out of your sight," he orders, although he knows that Raven would never dream of it anyway.
Only then does he let go of Charles, one hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment.
"Get in, then," he says, pointing at his own head, and it is the most curious experience to feel Charles slip into his mind, warm him from the inside, fill all his cracks and emptiness.
Have you changed me, last night? He asks silently while he exits the plane, rushes towards the submarine, tears a hole into the boat's hull. Has some of your power bled over to me, or why is your presence in my mind so much stronger now?
It isn't, my friend.
Charles' voice is in his head, echoing in his ears, but it is more that, Erik realizes. It is as if Erik's mind recognizes Charles, mends the bindings that were broken last night, welcomes the other man home.
The only difference is that you feel the connection now, too.
Erik has entered the submarine, and it is a heady feeling, being completely encased by metal, encasing Charles' mind in turn. Dimly, he is aware that a connection as close as this would have frightened him senseless before last night. He's not the sort of man that entrusts himself to others. But the worst has already happened, he's been lost in Charles' mind, and Charles has put him back together with more love and care than Erik has ever felt since that first, terrible bullet.
Now there's no fear, no hesitation, only the rush of confidence Charles' presence brings with him, the complex build-up of power between them.
Unstoppable, he thinks as he rips doors from their hinges and crosses lavishly decorated rooms, as he disengages the nuclear reactor, while Charles centres him easily in that in-between state of rage and serenity. Together we are unstoppable.
He feels Charles' laughter echo through his head like silver bells.
Then he's reached the void, a curiously blank space in their minds that has no visible representation in the real world, and Erik's panic rushes up, threatening to consume him, because this can't be happening, Shaw can't have evaded him again, and even Charles' power is barely enough to keep him calm.
A sliding sound behind him, and Erik whirls around, the metal floor vibrating in the rhythm of his heartbeat.
He meets Shaw's eyes. They are very cold, and very blue.
I can't feel him, Erik, Charles whispers, his voice laced with worry. Something is stopping me! I can't read his mind! I can't…
Erik reaches out with his senses for the helmet Shaw is wearing and finds it strangely dead to his power. He can't simply lift it off his head, but then he hasn't expected that to work – Shaw is too clever for it.
We'll think of something, Charles.
"Erik. What a pleasant surprise," Shaw says. "So good to see you again."
Suddenly, Erik is flooded with anger, red hot, impotent fury, but surprisingly he finds that it doesn't belong to him. It's Charles'.
What you could have been to them, Charles is thinking, no, screaming at Shaw. You could have saved them, all of them, Emma and Erik and the rest, and you could have made a difference, but you hurt them, you ruined them, you made the world a darker place, you leech, and you had no right to abuse your power, to squander your gift, and I would…
Calm your mind, Charles, Erik thinks frantically, because his head hurts from all the anger and it worries him a bit, to be honest. He never thought Charles had this in him, this dark, passionate rage, so frighteningly similar to what Erik feels. Charles is supposed to be better than that.
And where is his own anger? He looks at Shaw, and instead of the monster he's been hunting most of his life, there is just this man, slender, dressed like a playboy, wearing a funny helmet.
There's hate in Erik, certainly, but it's a clinical, almost objective hate, and the only thing he can think is I'll end you, and I've wasted too much time on you, and That helmet looks really ludicrous.
What did Charles do to me, to change me so?
But deep inside he knows that the reasons for this change did not come from Charles. Or at least not in the ways that matter.
"May I ask you something?" Shaw continues, beckoning for Erik to follow him back into the reactor room. Erik doesn't comply, however, because in his head Charles and he are having a heated discussion about traps and risks and necessities, and Erik can't win the argument and walk at the same time, he's no telepath, after all.
"Why are you on their side? Why fight for a doomed race who'll hunt us down as soon as they realize their reign is coming to an end?"
So Shaw is still trying to recruit him? Seriously?
We can use this. I can get at him from behind, surprise him, Erik thinks at Charles, and in the space of a heartbeat a plan is forming between them. Charles doesn't like it, but he doesn't stop Erik as he follows Shaw into the mirror room.
You will just have to trust me, friend, Erik thinks as the door closes behind him.
"I'm sorry for what happened in the camps. I truly am. But everything I did I did for you," Shaw says.
And Erik should be outraged, he knows he should, but he can barely bring himself to listen to him, can barely concentrate on this moment that should have been the culmination of all his plans.
Because Charles' presence in his mind has vanished.
Erik is all alone inside his head, Charles gone without an echo remaining, and it's such an empty, terrible feeling that Erik reaches out without even knowing, reaches for the metal that surrounds this void, bringing it down on them, down, down, down.
Glass screeches, mirrors splinter, and there is Charles, surging back into him with the strength of relief.
Erik, thank God! But I still can't read his mind. You need to get that helmet off him…
Working on it, Charles, working on it, he thinks grimly, brings down another metal beam and pushes it against Shaw, only for his power to be swatted away like a fly.
"You've come a long way from bending gates. I'm so proud of you. And you've just started to scratch the surface. Just think how much further we could go, me and you," Shaw whispers, his eyes beckoning greedily.
You have no idea what pride and strength are, Erik thinks. But I do, now.
And he remembers a younger Charles from the memories they shared just last night, a fifteen-year-old Charles at the bedside of his dying mother, who has done nothing but rage at him these past five years, but still this boy is sitting with her hour after hour, holding her hand while she slips away, painfully aware of all the mistakes he's made and yet oblivious to everything that was owed to him and never given.
That memory holds a power and clarity that humbles Erik, that makes him want to honour his friend's quiet strength, and he can't help but think that, yes, he has come a long way, further than Shaw could ever imagine.
"I want to help you," Shaw whispers, close enough to touch, if only Erik wasn't pinned to the wall by a metal beam. That Shaw dares this, dares trap him with his very own element, makes Erik almost angry enough to forget about their plan and just scream, rage, fight with everything he has. But Charles holds him back, sending waves of calm into his mind, and it is just enough to endure Shaw's recruitment speech as long as he has to.
"This is our time. Our Age. We are the future of the human race. You and me, son. This world could be ours."
For a moment, Erik thinks about this seriously, wondering what would happen to him if he agreed and gave in to this man. He can still feel the impulse, buried deep inside him, the echo of a young, frightened boy who wants to please desperately, willing to do anything to make the pain stop.
It hurts to remember, but that boy is a part of Erik, and he deserves to be acknowledged.
"Everything you did made me stronger, made me the weapon I am today," he therefore whispers, and the way Shaw's face lightens up with self righteous satisfaction makes him want to vomit. "It's the truth. I've known it all along. You are my creator."
He does not spare a look for the metal cable that is sneaking up behind Shaw's back, doesn't have to, because he can feel it coming closer, inching its way towards the helmet centimetre by centimetre. He keeps his eyes on Shaw, and only when it almost touches Shaw's head does he continue.
"But I have changed, and you have no idea what I am capable of anymore, Shaw."
The cable snaps forward.
Now, Charles!
With an effort that sets Erik's teeth on edge, Charles reaches out and grabs control from Shaw, freezes his body and clamps down on his mutant power.
I've got him! We have him, Erik! You've done it!
Yes. Thanks to you, my friend.
Erik frees himself from the metal that has trapped him, steps around his old tormentor and up close to him.
And looks at the frozen face of Sebastian Shaw, truly looks for the first time, seeing not the monster of his nightmares, not the all-powerful Doktor, but just another mutant, just another man.
He can feel Shaw losing his hold over him, can feel the obsession slipping away, the iron bands that bound his chest, chaining him to this man, bursting and clattering to his feet.
Because Shaw may be his creator, but Charles is too, now.
Shaw may have forged him in blood and pain and rage, taking from him everything he loved and believed in, offering back nothing but an illusion of strength and a blazing, all-consuming hate.
But Charles has re-forged him with kindness and trust and an admiration Erik can never hope to earn, and he has opened his doors to him and given Erik friends and a home and things to live for.
So maybe Erik is Shaw's creature.
But he has more than one maker, has a choice, and if Erik has to choose his Frankenstein, it will always be Charles.
He lets the helmet slip from the cable's grip. It thumps to the ground and is easily crushed by a steel plate.
Charles' relief and gratefulness burn brightly in his mind.
But there is still something he has to do.
"I'm sorry, Charles," he whispers, because he knows this will pain his friend, and he can't bear to do that within his head. "But he killed my mother, and he hurt you. This has to stop here. I cannot risk him destroying what I love ever again."
Charles' emotions flare up at that, nearly blinding Erik for a moment with their intensity. There is regret, and protest, and disbelief, and perhaps a hint of betrayal, but beyond all that there is sorrow, an all-encompassing grief.
Charles is mourning Erik's mother, Erik's youth, this wasteful violence and all the missed chances. He is mourning Shaw, what he did to Erik, Frost, all of them, but especially to himself (and only Charles could grieve for a monster with such honest abandon).
Then the feelings abate, and so does Charles' presence in Erik's mind, until the only thing Erik can feel is acceptance, and exhaustion, and muted regret.
Charles won't stop him.
And so Erik takes the Reichsmark he's carried with him all these years, floats it into the air.
And pushes it through Shaw's skull into his brain.
He has expected the resistance, has imagined how it will feel to kill a man slowly, to cause excruciating pain, to watch and keep pushing and show no mercy in the face of suffering.
What he hasn't expected is Charles' scream.
It is both physical and mental, reverberating in his head and rattling through his bones, and Erik's grasp on the coin slips, threatens to fail.
Charles? He thinks frantically, wondering if one of Shaw's mutants has made his way into the Blackbird. What is happening to you? Charles?
And then he meets Shaw's eyes and sees Charles reflected in them. And understands: It might be Charles that is screaming, but the pain belongs to Shaw, and in enforcing his revenge, he has made his friend endure it alongside his enemy.
He pushes the coin through as quickly as he can, not caring to prolong it. Shaw is dead anyway, and what matters now is that Charles can let go as soon as possible.
But it's too late. Charles' presence in his mind is dwindling, slipping away, losing coherence and control. Erik tries to hold onto him, to lend him his strength, to anchor him.
But he doesn't know how to. Their connection thins, splinters, and there is only time for one thought:
This is my fault. I did this to him.
Erik can feel Charles' flimsy shields shatter anew.
Some part of Erik shatters right along with them.
Erik grabs Shaw's body by the metal in his clothes and drags him along, but it's just an afterthought. Most of his mind and power are fixed on the need to get out of the submarine, back to the Blackbird. To Charles.
He isn't even surprised when he finds that he's floating, propelled forward by the metal of the ship.
I should be feeling different, he thinks, just as absently. Triumphant. Free.
But all he feels is worry and fear. All he hears is Charles' pain.
He emerges from the submarine in flight, and both his allies and Shaw's compatriots look up with at him with awe. He relinquishes his hold on the body and Shaw drops to the ground like a puppet without strings. Erik doesn't watch him fall, his attention fixed on his friend.
Charles is on his feet, somehow, stumbling away from the Blackbird, supported by both Raven and Moira. Their eyes meet over the distance, and Erik flinches as he remembers that scream.
Are you alright? He calls for him silently and sees Charles twitch, but there's no answer, and as he reaches out for his friend's mind, all he encounters is chaos and pain and overwhelming exhaustion. It nearly drives him to his knees.
"Are you alright, Charles?" He repeats out loud, but there's no answer to that, either.
The other mutants are staring at them, their friends worried, Shaw's followers afraid of what they are going to do to them. Erik doesn't spare a glance at them. He's not interested in recruiting right now.
But then a new feeling enters the maelstrom of emotions that is the entangled mess of their minds: The taste of metal, of cannons and rockets, ready to launch. Swivelling in their direction.
"No," Erik whispers.
It's a testament to the unnatural silence around them that every single person on the beach can hear him.
"They are going to kill us. After we saved their lives. I knew it, Charles, I told you they couldn't be trusted…"
Charles sways, his whole body shaking. There's a terrible expression on his face, heartbreak and tiredness and bone-deep pain, but still he is freeing himself from Raven's grasp and turning towards the ships, blue eyes widening desperately as he finds confirmation for Erik's words in the human minds aboard them.
"No…" he whispers, but the rest of that sentence dies along with their hopes for a better future.
The ships fire. The rockets fly.
And Charles, no need for a finger on his temple now that his shields and focus are burned away to nothing, Charles changes. The chaos in his mind tightens, shifts, and suddenly it's all new, brighter and more powerful and brimming with intent, and Erik realizes that Charles isn't even trying to shield anymore.
Instead, he opens himself up completely, surrendering to the powers he has kept locked away for most of his life, inviting them in, letting them take over.
"No," Erik whispers. "No, Charles, don't do this, this could kill you, please…"
But Charles just raises his hands slightly, the frail gesture of a frail human, meets Erik's frightened gaze, and smiles.
"Don't worry, my friend," he whispers. "I won't let them hurt us. Alles ist gut."
He closes his eyes.
Erik's power stops the rockets in midair, but it is not Erik who wields it.
Charles is everywhere, in all of them, his power singing in the air, and Erik can almost see the threads of their minds now, bridging the gaps between them and the ships, spanning a net that encompasses all and still reaches beyond them, across the ocean and over the horizon.
They are all Charles now. And Charles is every single one of them.
From the shining orb of power that is the centre of it all, images begin to form and rise to the surface of their minds, each of them exquisitely clear and yet but a pearl on an endless chain, connecting and linking until everything around them is sound, and colour, and happiness:
Raven, barely seven and very blue, smiling with the delight of having finally found a friend.
Hank, radiating joy as they admire his feet and do not shun him.
Sean, the thrill of first flight a jubilant cry of freedom.
Alex, pure relief that he will never, ever have to hurt anyone again.
And Erik himself, amazement and disbelief rocking through him as he looks into those blue eyes for the first time and hears those words (You are not alone).
They are memories, imprints of their emotions, but they are also more than that, more intense than anything Erik has experienced before.
These images capture and condense the essence of what they are, and they are each of them laid bare in these short, exquisite moments, raw in a way no human being could ever see another, impossible to misunderstand in their intentions and beliefs.
They are beautiful, and incredibly, impossibly true.
And Erik understands: Charles has collected them, his friends, his family, all their moments of joy and happiness, he has tucked them away as treasures in the vast storerooms of his minds.
They are seeds of the things to come that he now throws out to the humans, hoping for them to take hold and grow, and Erik can feel them too, as soon as he thinks of them, all those soldiers on all those ships, awed by what they never knew existed and overwhelmed by the humanity of the mutants.
For one moment, they all bask in the peace of their common nature.
Then, Charles' smile fades. The sky darkens. There is the gate again, Erik's panicked struggle to open it, the bullet that strikes his mother, Raven's shame, Hank's resignation, Alex' isolation, Erik's and Charles' desperate fight to stop Shaw, to save the men on the ships and so much more (the pain of Shaw's death , a markedly faint echo, but the shock of it sears through Erik's minds and oh, Charles, was it really that bad? Did I do that to you?).
And then Charles' voice, thundering across the sea:
These are your brothers and your sisters. These are your children. They saved your lives, and you will kill them for it?
The rockets hold still. The sky is heavy with Charles' grief.
And Erik can see new faces now, human faces, the faces of men and women, of children, of soldiers and politicians (He's reaching out that far? Erik thinks in disbelief), faces filled with the horrified realization not of the mutant danger, but of their kinship. Of what they, the humans, were willing to do.
They truly see each other here, over the distance of miles and oceans, fused together by one single, endless mind that leaves no room for lies, or doubt, or subterfuge.
It's as if they are looking into a mirror. There's no place left for hate.
Do you truly want to kill us?
Charles' voice again, no thunder this time but a soft rain of grief and resignation. He's mourning for all of them, for all the innocents lost, making no difference between mutants and humans, between his friends and the world and himself (and for the first time Erik truly understands that he can't. All the world is in his head. How could Charles ever choose?).
The question grips them all.
It is just this. A question.
There's no suggestion behind it, no pull what to decide. Charles has shown them the truth, leaving them to make of it what they want. But Erik can read the same answer to his question seared into a thousand faces and minds:
No. We never wanted this!
And then, just like that, Charles lets them go.
As overwhelming as the chorus of their minds might have been, the silence after is worse.
Rockets explode like fireworks, harmless and high up in the air.
Erik cannot feel them anymore, the mutants or the humans, and for the first time in his life he wants to reach out and reconnect. It feels so lonely inside his mind.
The feeling of their fusion is addictive, but it's already fading, and he can see the loss on all the faces around him.
For one single moment, everything was well.
But then Charles sighs softly, drops to his knees and tilts sideways until his face hits the sandy beach.
He lies very still.
There is only silence.
A/N: Shaw's dialogue is taken from the movie. No copyright infringement is intended.
The last chapter should be up in a few days, just as soon as I can mange. Feel free to motivate me with reviews, though ;-).