[It takes Charles a minute to suss out exactly what Erik is asking but then he quirks his lips and gives a small shrug.]
Here, let me show you.
[Walking along the windows, he stops by one that contains a large chart.]
This was made up fairly early on by a young man named Edmund. I haven't heard from him recently so I believe he left the City but luckily the information remained. As you can see there is a timed schedule, as measured by the clock tower I believe, of the trains.
Since I've started to go further down the tunnels now, I count off the rhyme for Three Little Kittens to help me gauge how much time has passed. It takes me 1 minute and 10 seconds to get through the entire rhyme. I can walk down in the tunnels for 12 full refrains and eighteen lines, before I have to turn around as it takes me 2 full refrains and 13 lines to clear the mouth of the tunnel in time for the next train.
[He has this on the notes just off to the side, meaning to give them to his other self.]
I know the trains now by heart, so when I'm just out in the city I note what train has gone by me, correlate the amount of refrains it took to come from the central station, out to the point I'm at and mark time accordingly.
[Simple math.]
As for measuring weeks and months. [Charles lifts his hand and tugs on a lock of hair, drawing it down and across his face.] I use how long my hair has grown.
[ Erik doesn't reply immediately, running fingers over the schedule, taking considerable care not to disturb any of the markings left from the wax. There's another question that arises to begin with, with the clock tower being accurate or not, but he doesn't bring it up, because right now it would mean having to memorize the schedule and pinpointing the trains long enough to actually slow down so he could catch the numbers. ]
You assume your hair grows at a constant rate. [ He says after a while. It's a perfectly good method of keeping track of tine, flaws here and there for sure, but considering there is no real way to justify morning and night, no calendar that properly indicates the time, it works in the meantime. ]
[ It's a smart ass comment that shuts Erik up, at a loss for words and a coherent thought. He's right, but Erik isn't willing to mention it, stubborn as he can be from time to time. ]
Fair enough.
[ Erik distracts himself with the writing, sussing out where Charles' notes end and the information he's gathered from the others begin. ]
[ Erik slides his hands into his pockets once Charles leaves, quiet in the meantime. This is something he should probably share with Erik, but bringing up the man on its own is a frustrating topic and he's not entirely sure how they're balancing each other out right now. Part of him considers making a break for it, some sort of drastic attempt to break out of the city. His own restlessness aside, he doesn't like the fact that overall, they haven't made much progress on their own. ]
Or do you mind me staying here for a while?
[ It's one of the first times he's not driven by any compulsion, merely distracted by a single minded goal that Erik reminded him off; that they should be focused on trying to get out instead of settling in. ]
[Reaching up to rub at his temple, Charles tried to sort through the bombardment of thoughts that came from Erik.]
I am certain that there are plenty of people who would like to get out, just as much as you would, Erik. The reality is, most attempts to date have failed. In the mean time, do not think of it as settling in, think of it as positioning ourselves strategically to be best able to leverage any advantage afforded us against our captors.
[Lowering his hand, Charles pushed away from the desk he'd been perched upon and walked towards the windows, looking for where he stopped.]
I do not mind, if you wish. Are you and Erik trading off babysitting duties?
[Yeah, he might still be smarting a bit from your other self's attitude recently, Erik.]
[ Erik hadn't once mentioned Charles to him, save for the odd discussion here and there about their ideals. The other Charles, however, had been brought up enough times that Erik had gotten the gist of their relationship, far more complex than he had initially understood it as. Part of him is rather miffed at the fact that Erik had done this without telling him, but he can shrug it off; they're both their own men through and through. ]
You didn't strike me as the kind of man who needed babysitting though.
[ Don't think he's forgotten what you mentioned, distracted as he is for the time being by the mention of Erik. ]
[The words had him pausing in mid pencil stroke as flashes of memory, the cool water from the shower, Burke's breath at his shoulder, the waves of pleasure then edged with a fire like pain. Fingers at his throat and harsh laughter in his ears.
Charles closed his eyes for a moment and struggled to shove the memories away. Shame rose color to his cheeks and he shifted, as if wanting to escape his own skin.]
You'd ... be surprised. [Charles said softly, not looking at Erik as he turned the pencil over and over in his fingers, before aggressively throwing himself at his notations.]
[ It was a risk really, approaching Charles as he did, breaking away from his own need to keep personal space and edging in on the other man's. ]
Charles?
[ Erik tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he watched the telepath, toying with the pencil as if distracted by a chain of thought. He had had moments like those, when a simple word would lead to something else and sometimes Erik would forget who he's talking to. ]
Are you all right? [ Because as far as Erik was concerned, this Charles at least had managed to prove himself more than capable of taking care of himself, if the little they did interact was enough to get by on. But then again Erik liked to believe in the best of mutants, humans not withstanding. ]
[The realization, after the fact that he'd used no protection. The feel of ... slick fluid sliding along the inside of his thigh. He'd scrubbed furiously, cleaned himself up the best he could but he'd still had to walk home in wet, ruined clothes. His shirt ripped beneath his sweater, he'd finally thought to stop and throw the shirt out before actually going up to the rooms he shared with River.
Even with having washed, he'd coughed and felt the warm tickle ...
Charles shuddered and swallowed down the need to be sick. It took a couple hard gulps and he smiled, breathing through his teeth, a trick he'd learned over the years. When the urge to vomit passed, he glanced at Erik, then quickly away, ashamed.]
I'm quite well. Just ... did something ... unwise.
[Understatement! He really did need to get those antibiotics.]
[ Understatement of the century, Charles, don't think Erik doesn't pick up on it. He paid particular attention to the other man's body language, watching his face carefully, from the gulps he himself would make at times, caught with his guard down and the expression quickly averted. They're not all that dissimilar in behavior like that, and it's nothing Erik doesn't shrug off, persistent as ever.
Erik leaned against the wall closest to the glass, the only panel of the view Charles was currently distracting himself with and crosses his arms across his chest. ]
For a telepath, you're terrible at keeping secrets.
[It didn't help that Charles felt like he had a sign on him somewhere, announcing what he'd done. In some ways he'd welcomed the distraction of the cuffs because he'd felt as if everyone who looked at him, knew what he'd done.
He gripped his pencil tighter and really all he was doing was scrubbing a black line onto the glass, too distracted to be able to think, let alone writer.]
It is just something that I would like to keep private.
[Or you know, go back in time and just not do in the first place! Except, except there is a small part of his mind that whispers to him how much he'd liked it. It had felt good, Burke's hands and his tongue, the things he'd done to him, the attention on him.
That was what caused the feelings of shame. Not that he'd done it but that ... he could see himself doing it again.]
[ Which Erik can also understand. Really Charles, you're starting to sound more and more like him every day and this isn't helping his own curiosity. ]
Rather hard not to be concerned when you're blatantly exercising it in my face, Charles.
[ As if to emphasize, Erik looked pointedly at the glass and the scratch that was starting to form. He reached out with the intention of tugging the pencil out of Charles' hand, slowly at first so that the other man could at least see what he was doing instead of rushing into things like the last time when Erik had managed to scare him. ]
You can keep it private, but if there's something bothering you here, I can do something about it.
[You learned, Erik! The slower movement does keep Charles, who is starting to wind into a bit of a state, from flying off the handle like he did the last time. He even lets the pencil be tugged away, though his fingers close over each other as if he doesn't know what to do with them.
At the offer, he gives his head a slight shake.]
It is not important. [He says, though the words are generic, have no real meaning in this statement, sort of like admitting that yes, the weather was cold wasn't it.]
I should not have let it happen. It is my mistake. It will not be allowed to occur again.
[Keep telling yourself that, Charlie m'lad! The words formed by his own internal monologue but in Burke's Irish brogue has him shuddering and giving his head a shake.]
It won't. [He says fiercely, obviously talking to himself.]
[ He still makes mistakes from time to time Charles, be gentle. But Charles' words, however reassuring they might be to the telepath himself mean nothing to Erik, who sees through them as the meaningless syllables he'd often repeat to himself. If you could fake it, then nothing else mattered. ]
I'm sure it won't, Charles. [ Erik says gently, reaching out for the younger man's closed fist.
It's one of those moments where it doesn't take much for Erik to slowly put two and two together; he doesn't discuss his own past because of how difficult it is, and he doesn't press matters further with Charles, under the impression that whatever the man conceded would certainly be on par with the crimes he's committed.
He closes his hand over Charles' own, fingers curling lightly on the underside of his wrist before nudging the man to relax his fist. For Erik at least, it's a sign of unconditional trust that he's capable of opening up to another person and letting them in spite of his own faults. ]
I believe you're capable of not letting this happen again.
Here, let me show you.
[Walking along the windows, he stops by one that contains a large chart.]
This was made up fairly early on by a young man named Edmund. I haven't heard from him recently so I believe he left the City but luckily the information remained. As you can see there is a timed schedule, as measured by the clock tower I believe, of the trains.
Since I've started to go further down the tunnels now, I count off the rhyme for Three Little Kittens to help me gauge how much time has passed. It takes me 1 minute and 10 seconds to get through the entire rhyme. I can walk down in the tunnels for 12 full refrains and eighteen lines, before I have to turn around as it takes me 2 full refrains and 13 lines to clear the mouth of the tunnel in time for the next train.
[He has this on the notes just off to the side, meaning to give them to his other self.]
I know the trains now by heart, so when I'm just out in the city I note what train has gone by me, correlate the amount of refrains it took to come from the central station, out to the point I'm at and mark time accordingly.
[Simple math.]
As for measuring weeks and months. [Charles lifts his hand and tugs on a lock of hair, drawing it down and across his face.] I use how long my hair has grown.
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You assume your hair grows at a constant rate. [ He says after a while. It's a perfectly good method of keeping track of tine, flaws here and there for sure, but considering there is no real way to justify morning and night, no calendar that properly indicates the time, it works in the meantime. ]
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It is my hair, Erik. I've lived with it for twenty-eight years. I have a fairly good understanding of the rate at which it grows out.
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Fair enough.
[ Erik distracts himself with the writing, sussing out where Charles' notes end and the information he's gathered from the others begin. ]
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Watching the older man peruse the work, Charles walks over and sits down atop a desk, feet knocking together restlessly.]
Are there any other questions I can answer?
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[ Erik slides his hands into his pockets once Charles leaves, quiet in the meantime. This is something he should probably share with Erik, but bringing up the man on its own is a frustrating topic and he's not entirely sure how they're balancing each other out right now. Part of him considers making a break for it, some sort of drastic attempt to break out of the city. His own restlessness aside, he doesn't like the fact that overall, they haven't made much progress on their own. ]
Or do you mind me staying here for a while?
[ It's one of the first times he's not driven by any compulsion, merely distracted by a single minded goal that Erik reminded him off; that they should be focused on trying to get out instead of settling in. ]
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I am certain that there are plenty of people who would like to get out, just as much as you would, Erik. The reality is, most attempts to date have failed. In the mean time, do not think of it as settling in, think of it as positioning ourselves strategically to be best able to leverage any advantage afforded us against our captors.
[Lowering his hand, Charles pushed away from the desk he'd been perched upon and walked towards the windows, looking for where he stopped.]
I do not mind, if you wish. Are you and Erik trading off babysitting duties?
[Yeah, he might still be smarting a bit from your other self's attitude recently, Erik.]
Reply
[ Erik hadn't once mentioned Charles to him, save for the odd discussion here and there about their ideals. The other Charles, however, had been brought up enough times that Erik had gotten the gist of their relationship, far more complex than he had initially understood it as. Part of him is rather miffed at the fact that Erik had done this without telling him, but he can shrug it off; they're both their own men through and through. ]
You didn't strike me as the kind of man who needed babysitting though.
[ Don't think he's forgotten what you mentioned, distracted as he is for the time being by the mention of Erik. ]
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Charles closed his eyes for a moment and struggled to shove the memories away. Shame rose color to his cheeks and he shifted, as if wanting to escape his own skin.]
You'd ... be surprised. [Charles said softly, not looking at Erik as he turned the pencil over and over in his fingers, before aggressively throwing himself at his notations.]
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Charles?
[ Erik tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he watched the telepath, toying with the pencil as if distracted by a chain of thought. He had had moments like those, when a simple word would lead to something else and sometimes Erik would forget who he's talking to. ]
Are you all right? [ Because as far as Erik was concerned, this Charles at least had managed to prove himself more than capable of taking care of himself, if the little they did interact was enough to get by on. But then again Erik liked to believe in the best of mutants, humans not withstanding. ]
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Even with having washed, he'd coughed and felt the warm tickle ...
Charles shuddered and swallowed down the need to be sick. It took a couple hard gulps and he smiled, breathing through his teeth, a trick he'd learned over the years. When the urge to vomit passed, he glanced at Erik, then quickly away, ashamed.]
I'm quite well. Just ... did something ... unwise.
[Understatement! He really did need to get those antibiotics.]
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Erik leaned against the wall closest to the glass, the only panel of the view Charles was currently distracting himself with and crosses his arms across his chest. ]
For a telepath, you're terrible at keeping secrets.
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He gripped his pencil tighter and really all he was doing was scrubbing a black line onto the glass, too distracted to be able to think, let alone writer.]
It is just something that I would like to keep private.
[Or you know, go back in time and just not do in the first place! Except, except there is a small part of his mind that whispers to him how much he'd liked it. It had felt good, Burke's hands and his tongue, the things he'd done to him, the attention on him.
That was what caused the feelings of shame. Not that he'd done it but that ... he could see himself doing it again.]
You do not, need to be concerned.
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Rather hard not to be concerned when you're blatantly exercising it in my face, Charles.
[ As if to emphasize, Erik looked pointedly at the glass and the scratch that was starting to form. He reached out with the intention of tugging the pencil out of Charles' hand, slowly at first so that the other man could at least see what he was doing instead of rushing into things like the last time when Erik had managed to scare him. ]
You can keep it private, but if there's something bothering you here, I can do something about it.
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At the offer, he gives his head a slight shake.]
It is not important. [He says, though the words are generic, have no real meaning in this statement, sort of like admitting that yes, the weather was cold wasn't it.]
I should not have let it happen. It is my mistake. It will not be allowed to occur again.
[Keep telling yourself that, Charlie m'lad! The words formed by his own internal monologue but in Burke's Irish brogue has him shuddering and giving his head a shake.]
It won't. [He says fiercely, obviously talking to himself.]
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I'm sure it won't, Charles. [ Erik says gently, reaching out for the younger man's closed fist.
It's one of those moments where it doesn't take much for Erik to slowly put two and two together; he doesn't discuss his own past because of how difficult it is, and he doesn't press matters further with Charles, under the impression that whatever the man conceded would certainly be on par with the crimes he's committed.
He closes his hand over Charles' own, fingers curling lightly on the underside of his wrist before nudging the man to relax his fist. For Erik at least, it's a sign of unconditional trust that he's capable of opening up to another person and letting them in spite of his own faults. ]
I believe you're capable of not letting this happen again.
Reply
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