XxX Domesticity XxX
He left for the old Oxford flat as soon as he could. It was most unwise in his own judgment, but after Moira's. He had to go. He took the train, in the night. He ditched the two tails following with practiced ease before he'd even left London, assisted by the busybodies of the London peak hour commute. The front of the train was full of commuters; Charles walked to the last carriage and finally found a seat alone. He propped up his cane against the wall and took out a book. The train clattered along the tracks. Absently he flicked the pages of his book. Winter brought on night early and as the train rattled through the tunnels, darkness enveloped the train. The train's internal lights flicker on, a dim but warm yellow light shone over Xavier's head. Eventually Charles gave up all pretense of reading, and simply stared into the inky night. The past wreathing is way into the shadows. Moira, Logan, the nights of war.
X
Charles found the spare key and opened the door. Erik makes a sound of disapproval from the kitchen. He is not alarmed he knows the sound of those particular footsteps anywhere.
"Charles you shouldn't be here." Erik is wearing his purple turtle neck, very much alive, making coffee. A sleep like death. Hank had said and phoned later to say Erik was okay but still. They had agreed no contact until this was over; Charles was putting them both in danger simply by being here.
"I spoke to Moira." Erik doesn't look up; difficult doesn't begin to describe Erik's relationship with that woman. "How was she?" He asks, because he knows how important she still is to Charles. Charles hesitates uncharacteristically uncertain, "she is better I think." Better because she will be free of him forever now.
Erik looks at Charles: he is tired and worn, pale with circles under his eyes. Moira, Erik thinks viciously. Only she could tear Charles apart so easily.
"You came straight from there?" he uses the left over hot water in the jug to make Charles a cup of tea. Erik slides it across the wooden counter to Charles, who places a hand around the mug warming his fingers. Erik drinks his own coffee watching Charles.
Charles stares into the depths of the tea, as he did the night sky on the train, as if from the murky depth he might divine the future.
"Charles?" Erik a note of concern in his tone. He comes out of the kitchen and sits down closer to Xavier.
"You can't stay." Xavier says in a flat weary tone not looking at Erik. He is emotionally exhausted.
"Why not? What is going on?" Erik demands quietly while observing that Charles has not touched his tea.
"Because you were right Erik." Charles admits, finally looking Erik in the eye..
"Who?" Erik says, threat and calculation building in his whole body on that single word.
"I know what you're thinking, Erik, we can't just go and shoot them, this is not the war."
"Why not? They deserve to die. They are traitors. Traitors die. "
"Erik, If you leave here now and shoot them, we will miss whoever else has been pulled into their web, but more importantly if we miss the chance to question them, we miss the opportunity to get at Karla ." his voice is tight.
"Karla." Control muses, a small vicious smile on his face. Karla has always been at the top of Controls list.
"Karla." Charles repeats, watching Erik internally revise his plans.
"It was Moira you know in the end who figured it out."
"She was a good spy once." Erik says with a note of begrudged praise.
"Before all of this." Charles waves a hand around absently.
"It was easier during the war. The sides were always clearer." Erik says musing on the past.
Charles decides he will agree to disagree on that one, given that they had both worn uniforms of the opposite side in order to shoot people. God they'd worn Nazi uniforms. Erik had. Well Erik always pursued everything in his life with a passion, enemies and lovers included. Not a rule wouldn't bend to win. Tiredly he passes the photo to Erik, and describes what Moira has already told him. "Shaw and Stryker." Charles finished his story with a certain amount of resignation.
"They were always together, always at the heart things." Charles was trying work out exactly how much intelligence they might have lost.
"Stryker is just a puppy." Erik says dismissively, his mind already turning to Shaw. Shaw was the brains of that particular duo. Erik sips at his coffee; his eyes have gone cold and distant.
Xavier steals a glance at his partner, thinking about his own grey hairs, if age showed at all in Erik in was in his eyes. Eyes that had seen too much too young. Those eyes scared Charles sometimes; it was so hard to warm them.
"We have to wait Erik, remember we want Karla and anyone else involved.
"Of course." He smiles at Charles, murder still written in his eyes.
"Just don't do anything yet my dear."
"I promise." Erik smiles and Charles grins back this time, it's the best promise Charles can hope for.
"Shall I make you some more tea? Yours is cold." Erik says casually.
"no." Charles is regretful. "I have to go I was followed this afternoon." The danger of this current situation reasserting itself. Xavier stands up to leave, carefully placing his weight on his left leg and leaning heavily on his cane; he has been on his feet all day.
"Charles." Erik gives a worried growl. "It's alright I lost them." Charles says without emotion, adjusting his scarf preparing to enter the night.
Erik moves closer to Charles helping him with his coat and putting a hand on his shoulder, "before you go…" Their eyes meet.
X
It is much later by the time Charles returns from Oxford to the cheap London apartment. Erik packs a small bag and leaves the Oxford flat, knowing he wouldn't see Charles again until it was finished. Leaving Charles alone to face the danger of both Shaw and Stryker was driving him mad. Erik wished there was another way. He wouldn't be responsible for another Budapest. He would find another way. Erik double checks his gun, before heading off into the early morning light.