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I.
The water was numbing as Charles felt it rush around him. His arms fought against his mind briefly, wanting to try and swim up to the surface again, but that desperate longing held him. He felt around, eyes closed, towards the source.
And God, but how beautiful that source was. How tantalizing a mind, breathtaking.
His lungs protested against the lack of oxygen. Charles concentrated.
You can’t. You’ll drown. You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you’re going to die. Please! Erik, calm you mind, he thought desperately.
He felt it as Erik released the submarine; the mental scream of frustration even as Charles’ legs kicked and brought them up to the surface.
“Who are you?” he heard Erik ask.
“Charles Xavier,” he answered.
“You were in my head! How did you do that?” Erik’s confusion was coming through. Charles found that he couldn’t let go of that floating body. Of that tempting mind.
He also apparently couldn’t resist being a little coy. “You have your tricks. I have mine. I’m like you.” Erik’s presence raged against him, anger, desperation pushing at him. “Just calm your mind.”
The rage subsided, leaving instead a sense of wonder. Charles wondered if Erik could feel him there, brushing through those surface emotions and going deeper, surrounded by him. “I thought I was alone.”
It was strange, Charles thought, hearing the words both from Erik’s mouth and his mind. He noticed an almost perfectly overlapped German, or at least he assumed German, translation and farther back the same in Hebrew, French, Spanish, and Russian. How many languages did this amazing man know?
“You’re not alone, Erik, you’re not alone,” Charles said.
He should have pulled out then, waved at the coast guard vessel to pick them up, but the sudden burst of joy from Erik, alleviating if briefly the ever-constant desire for revenge, had his body moving before he could properly think his actions through.
Charles tightened his grasp on Erik’s shoulders and let the motion of the ocean push them closer together. They missed, first, Charles’ lips resting just to the side of Erik’s, but he adjusted himself and then a spark formed like an explosion in both their minds, doubling in Charles’ as he felt was Erik did.
Their kiss was like an awakening, a sense of belonging. Charles knew in that moment that he could never let Erik go, not now. No matter what happened, it was this feeling he couldn’t stop and didn’t want to.
Charles Xavier, Erik repeated mentally. Charles.
Yes, Erik, Charles told him. Yes, you’re not alone. Not ever again.
II.
He couldn’t stay. The facility was too large, too full of humans he couldn’t trust, didn’t know. Too much like the place Schmidt, no, Shaw had trained him in. He wanted to stay, if only to be close to more of his kind, to the man who found him, but at what risk?
“From what I know about you, I’m surprised you managed to stay this long.”
It was Charles. Erik would recognize that voice anywhere, just as he recognized the brush against his mind, though he ignored it.
“What do you know about me?” Erik asked hotly.
“Everything,” Charles replied and there was no doubt in his voice.
Erik wondered whether or not that was true. He supposed that the small things didn’t matter, not when one has been in the depths of the mind. How could Charles still want to spend any time with him, knowing as he must how twisted Erik truly was? “Then you’ll know to stay out of my head.”
He turned to leave then, because he couldn’t stay, even for this tempting man and his tempting promises.
“I’m sorry, Erik. But I’ve seen what Shaw did to you. I felt your agony. I can help you.” Charles seemed so sure of himself.
But Erik knew he was beyond aid. He tried to say as much but what came out was, “I don’t need your help.”
It amounted to the same thing, didn’t it?
“Don’t kid yourself. You needed my help last night.” Now Charles seemed almost irritated. Erik hadn’t known that the man could feel anything other than naïve hope and joy. “It’s not just me you’re walking away from. Here you have the chance to be part of something much bigger than yourself.”
Erik had that chance before. In Nazi Germany. His mother had that chance, to renounce her ways. Their ways. No, that was not a chance he liked.
Charles must have sensed that, because he changed tactics. “I won’t stop you leaving. I could, but I won’t.”
Then it was Charles’ turn to go, as if to leave him. Erik found, in that moment, that he didn’t want that. Three strides had him by Charles’ side, grabbing him and spinning him so that they face each other.
Charles smiled and in his mind Erik felt an inquiry.
People had been prosecuted for it, once, back in the camps. That alone was incentive enough for Erik to give in as he leaned forward and captured those bright red lips.
Charles didn’t move, at first, and then he did, responding in such a way that it was all Erik could do to hold on. Their lips moved, tongues clashing in a sudden war for dominance, then receding with no victor. No victor was needed, Erik realized.
You’ll stay? Charles asked.
It took Erik a moment to realize it wasn’t aloud. He wavered, uncertain, but then as Charles nipped down at his bottom lip all he could do was agree. I’ll stay. For you, Charles, I will always stay.
III.
Erik’s mother was as much of a calming presence to Charles as Erik’s mind was. Lighting the candle, her speaking softly to Erik in low words that would soon become illegal.
Charles felt a hot tear run down his cheek.
“What did you do to me?” Erik asked. He too looked about to cry, in fact was almost crying. Charles hoped that he wouldn’t be too angry to share such a private memory with him.
“I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system. It’s a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you.” Charles swiped the tear from his face with his thumb.
“I didn’t know I still had that,” Erik confessed.
That’s why Charles had searched for it, or something like it. All Erik’s memories of his mother focused on hatred, his anger for Shaw.
To see her face and to feel love was a powerful soother, Charles knew. He also knew that Erik hadn’t expected that to ever happen while he was living his mortal life. This, Charles was glad to remedy.
“There’s so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There’s good to you, I felt it.” Charles was desperate to have him understand. “And when you can access all that, you’ll posses a power no one can match. Not even me. So, come on. Try again?”
Erik nodded, once, and he turned his eyes and hand to the satellite. Charles slipped back into his mind and he immediately felt Erik reaching inward, for the rage.
No, Erik, Charles reminded him.
And so Erik reached back for that memory, that love. The satellite began to move, slowly, underneath his pressure.
More, Charles pushed.
Erik pulled in that intoxicating presence, his mother and Charles’ both mixing together in a whirl, fading in and out until they both were so intermixed with that lost emotion, that lost caring want.
Faintly, Charles saw the satellite facing him now, but it was Erik’s eyes he searched for. He hadn’t meant for Erik to be caught in his own feelings, but seeing the wonderful man’s pain and successes, well he couldn’t help leaking through a bit of his pride.
His need.
Need? Erik asked mentally.
Charles winced, having not thought he’d projected that. Erik, however, seemed contemplative. He reached forward and before Charles knew it, he was being dragged into Erik’s body.
They kissed like two boys lost in shameful experimentation.
They kissed like men lost in lust.
They kissed like lovers.
“Guys, the president is about to make his address!” Moira called from the window.
Charles and Erik jumped apart. Charles cast his mind out quickly, but it seemed as though Moira had seen nothing other than the fact they were standing close together. Charles felt relief.
That was close, he told Erik and then called his acknowledgments to Moira. When he turned back, it was to Erik’s pleased smile. Oh, Erik.
Come on, Charles, Erik said, placing a hand on the small of Charles’ back. And don’t worry. No matter what society says, or does, I’m never letter you go.
Charles couldn’t repress the shiver, not of fear but of pure longing, that rolled down him.
IV.
Erik gave in and kissed the exquisite creature in front of him. Raven smiled and Erik thought that, had she been in her human disguise, she would have blushed. “Like this, then?” she asked.
Erik let himself sigh as he drew back. “No, Raven.”
She frowned. “But I thought-”
“It’s not you,” Erik interrupted. “Because, God, you are so beautiful. I just, I can’t.”
There were times when Erik wondered if humanity gave women enough credit. Raven’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Charles, isn’t it?” she whispered low. Like the predator she was.
Erik found himself unable to lie in front of those golden eyes. He nodded once, curt. “I’m sorry,” he told her, because he honestly was.
And Raven, perceptive, dangerous, sweet Raven got it. She stood, displaying her true form, beautiful as it was. Erik smiled at her and his cock twitched, but did not rise as he knew it would have once.
If he had never met this creature’s brother, just as exquisite as her.
“Goodnight, Erik,” Raven said.
“Goodnight, Raven,” Erik told her as she closed the door behind her.
Erik stripped down to his pants, but left them on. He’d been on the move so long that he knew better than to sleep in just boxers, or nude. Though he doubted he would have to escape quietly in the middle of the night here. He doubted if he could.
Erik heard the door open even as he felt the handle turn. His eyes snapped open, his mind suddenly and instantly alert.
Oh, Charles’ voice was welcome in his head and Erik allowed himself to marginally relax. I didn’t realize you were asleep.
“It’s fine, come in,” Erik said. He pulled down the lamp chain with his mind, shedding some light on Charles’ sheepish face. “What is it?”
Charles closed the door behind him. “I was wondering if you had anything to do with Raven’s sudden need to walk around the house naked.”
Erik raised an eyebrow. “You know I did,” he said. He wondered how much really went on without Charles knowing, around here. The hand on his temple focused his power, sure, but Erik thought, no, he knew that Charles could use his ability without it. The same way Erik could move metal without the actual gesture he usually made.
Difficult, but possible.
Erik wondered if Raven realized.
“You sent her away,” Charles said, admitting without saying so explicitly.
Erik felt a momentary pang of panic, wondering if Charles had read the whole conversation. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed the irrational emotion away. If Charles wanted to, he could have acted on any number of things. It was hard to hide one’s baser emotions around a telepath. The need and want in Erik was only amplified with every touch of their minds.
Charles approached closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. Erik felt his body pulse with the nearness of his presence. Charles, probably sensing this, slipping fully onto the bed, hovering just over Erik’s slightly propped up torso.
“Why?” Charles asked. “Why encourage her? You know better than any of us that we need to hide if we want to survive.”
“I do know,” Erik said. “I also know that I am tired of hiding, Charles.” His hand came up, involuntarily, to rest on Charles’ shoulder.
Charles pulled back. “You agree with Shaw.”
Erik cursed Charles’ power in that moment. “I hate Shaw.”
“But you agree with him,” Charles persisted.
“A nuclear war is not going to solve anything but kill all of us,” Erik said. “Shaw may survive, but who else?” You would die as easily as any man under the force of such a blast, he thought.
By Charles’ sigh, Erik knew he’d been heard. “So would you, my friend,” Charles murmured. Shaw needs to be stopped, he continued in Erik’s mind. At that, we are in agreement. But Erik, what then?
Erik didn’t know. All he knew was that Charles was there, so close to him and so alive. So much more than he seemed.
When their lips met, it seemed to Erik as much of a surprise to him as it was to Charles’ leaking emotions. But neither contested. Erik moved his hand up, now clutching at the base of Charles’ neck, pulling him in closer.
Charles went easily, rolling to lie on top of Erik. He was glad he never liked sleeping under the covers, especially not in the summer.
It’s October, Erik, Charles’ said and Erik could practically hear the amusement.
Erik did not deign to answer, instead he rolled his hips under Charles, eliciting from him a gasp and a wave of mental pleasure along with the plea, Do that again! Erik complied. And complied some more.
Much later, when they were both sated and lying in each other’s embrace, Charles brought a kiss to Erik’s neck, waking him from his light dose.
“Not all humans are evil,” Charles said. “And there are not enough of us to run a world on our own. I know, Erik, I’ve seen them all. We number in the hundreds, maybe the thousands, but certainly not in the billions.”
“But we are stronger, each and every one of us is more than ten humans,” Erik argued back.
“Ten?” Charles asked. “To engage in such war, we would need to be stronger than a million.”
“Full out warfare is not an option,” Erik agreed, “but there are other ways.”
Charles was silent long enough that Erik thought he’d won that particular argument. He should have known better.
Erik, Charles whispered faintly through him. Your mother was human.
And damn him, but Erik had nothing to say to that.
Because she had been. Had she not, Shaw would have never shot her down like another casualty of war, like another goddamn sacrifice.
Can’t we try and coexist? Charles asked.
Erik buried his head in Charles’ shoulder and said nothing.
V.
The plane crashed with several jolts, pushing up and down. Charles’ head rung with the distress of all his friends: Moira, Raven, Hank, and Erik. Always Erik, brushing against his conscious like a drug. He was addicted at the first touch of it.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted a cure.
Erik, are you okay? Charles asked mentally. He wasn’t sure that he could move quite yet.
I’m fine, Erik thought back gruffly. Charles shifted and found his face right there, bruised and cut but Erik’s eyes still as clear as always.
The control he’d exercised, all that just vanished at the reassurance that Erik was all right. Shaw still waited, the others were in distress, but in that one moment all that existed was Erik and him face-to-face.
Charles leaned forward and he hoped he didn’t imagine Erik copying him movements, except that suddenly they were on each other, mouths clasping hungrily. Post-traumatic stress relief, Charles thought.
Shut up, Erik growled in his mind and Charles let himself be lost in that one kiss.
But it couldn’t last. They separated, got up, helped the others.
Too soon, Charles thought, he couldn’t let Erik leave him just yet. Not with the promises that bloomed on the horizon.
He followed him into the submarine. Followed him into Shaw’s void of a room. And when Shaw knocked him against the wall, he watched with half-mast eyes as Erik tore the helmet from the man’s head and then Charles had him frozen.
“You killed my mother,” Erik was saying.
Charles couldn’t move, but he could still speak. “Please, Erik,” he said as he saw in his mind’s eye Erik pulling on the helmet, seconds before the actual fact was about to occur. “I can’t lose you, Erik. I just can’t.”
And Erik glanced at him, eyes dark and wet but mouth determined. “I’m sorry, Charles,” he said as he pressed the coin into Shaw’s head.
Charles couldn’t let himself pull out for fear of the man who held the power of a nuclear bomb. The loss of Shaw was like a wrenching in his very soul and he crumbled as Shaw’s body did.
Erik was next to him in an instant, clinging to his body and his mind.
Charles knew he was projecting, in that small room, that sudden emptiness he’d felt and Erik was stiffening. “Oh god, Charles,” he murmured.
Kiss me, please, Charles begged.
Erik did just that. The helmet lay forgotten next to Shaw’s lifeless body.
VI.
Erik heard Charles’ scream in his mind, though by now he could tell that it was only there, not in his ears. He wondered how, briefly, the projection had made it through the helmet, then he realized he’d torn the helmet off.
He wasn’t conscious of dropping his control over the missiles. All could see was Charles face first on the ground, all he could feel was that single piece of metal, that single bullet that burned in Charles’ skin even as it burned through Erik’s awareness.
“I’m so sorry,” Erik muttered. He held him close, pulling the bullet out of Charles’ perfect, beautiful body. “I said back off!” he yelled as rage fueled through his body. Charles was his, only his, his to cherish.
To protect.
“You, you did this,” his fingers closed, tightening as he choked the damn agent, that damned girl who knew too much, thought too little. That damned girl that Charles looked at admiringly.
Why did she have to bring her gun?
“Please!” Erik could here Charles pleading, yelling. “She didn’t do this, Erik!” What? But yes she did, Charles, she shot you. “You did.”
But-
You did.
Erik let the chain around the agent’s neck drop down. He turned his eyes back to Charles’ and felt that brush in his mind.
I did this, Erik thought.
Charles closed his eyes briefly. It’s okay, Erik. It will be okay.
Except that it couldn’t. He’d hurt Charles.
He’d hurt Charles.
I did this, Erik thought again.
No, no, Erik! Charles was sobbing in his mind. Please, Erik!
But Erik couldn’t stay, couldn’t continue to look at that perfect face. He’d hurt Charles like he’d hurt his mother. But Charles was still alive. He would survive.
He could have died, though. Those nasty, filthy humans almost killed Charles, almost killed all of them.
Please, Charles thought again, but Erik was already looking up. Then Charles’ weak hands came to clutch at his face, pulling him back down.
The touch of their lips was cold as the sea, cold as his heart, cold as his mind when the helmet was on. Erik pulled away because he couldn’t, he just couldn’t risk Charles with his presence. Sweet, naïve Charles.
And so he stood, though every part of him was pulling him back towards Charles lying there now in the arms of that agent who knew to much. Whom he should kill. Would kill, he vowed, one day, when Charles didn’t need her more than he needed Erik.
At least he had Raven, Mystique, now. One Xavier. They both knew that she would never be able to replace the one he left behind.
The ghostly remembrance of that kiss followed him even as Azazel took them away.