[Fic] Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Title: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Author: anchors_ashore
Rating: R.
Warnings: Dark!Charles be very dark in this. Issues of consent and of course death.
Word Count: 2510
Characters: Erik/Charles
Summary: Charles cannot bend fate to his will, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try anyway.
Disclaimer: Totally not real, totally didn't happen, and totally not making money off this, much to my eternal regret. Author's Note: My first non!kink meme fic! I admit that I have a shameless love for dark!Charles. What can I say? I need Erik and Charles to be Evil Overlords Who Rule The World In Between Their Sexytimes. Feedback is most definitely encouraged.
Charles stands on the deck of a CIA-sanctioned ship, whispers of voices swirling around in his head like smoke on the horizon. Out of nowhere the faint hum he’s grown accustomed to is drowned out by the sound of metal bending and twisting in the water. The sound of the waves crashing dimmers, and all Charles can hear is one lone voice, thick with an agony that Charles himself will never know, screaming into the air as if to shatter the stars.
Let it be over let it be over please just let it be over.
Charles dives into the water without a second thought or regard for his own life. He wraps his arms around the man (how can one man contain such power yet feel so fragile at once?) and pulls him to the surface. He is filled with shock and wonder at Charles, but the agony still festers beneath the surface. Emotions are swirling, and already Charles cannot tell where his own starts and Erik’s ends. He looks at Erik and Charles can feel the invisible drag of chains against his wrists, linking him forever to this strong, scarred and broken mess of a human being.
“You’re not alone,” he tells Erik. Words are meaningless to Erik, so Charles will show him through his every action that on this cold dark night, Charles has pledged himself to Erik, heart and soul and most importantly, mind. It will take years before it finally sinks in. Charles is strangely okay with that.
Erik snorts and says with a longing that Charles will never understand, “We’re all alone in the end.”
Charles cannot bend fate to his will, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try anyway.
And so it starts with a kiss.
Erik’s mind is unlike anything Charles has ever experienced before; rich with knowledge, finely tuned with carefully crafted layers stacked on top of layers. It’s like a maze, with trap doors lined up along the way, and what lays beneath those doors calls to Charles in ways he simply can’t ignore. Every time he slides inside, there’s something new to uncover. So much rage and anger, which Charles has to come to accept. Yet there are a few doors, tucked away in the very back of Erik’s mind, that emit a light so pure, Charles feels cleansed every time he passes them. Deep, unwavering love for his parents, although that same love is tainted by shame at the thought of what they would think of him now. Conviction concerning the difference between right and wrong so powerful that not even Charles with his abilities could bend it, although it is interlaced with fear of the cost that must be paid to uphold such ideals.
But it is the desolation, the despair that rots inside of Erik that Charles fears most. Even in his darkest moments, Charles has always found it in inside of him to keep going, to rise above, to live. He had once thought that this was the human condition, the desire to live. It’s not until Erik is grinning at the barrel of a gun to his head that Charles realizes that sometimes not even the promise of a better tomorrow is enough to keep a man afloat.
It is arrogant of him to think that he will be the one to give Erik a reason to live. But when Erik gives him permission to come inside his head, and he feels the tears that fall from Erik’s eyes, he knows it’ll be him that breathes air into the lungs of a dead man. And when Erik laughs with joy as the satellite dish cries at his mercy, Charles is more than just proud; he is smug.
He never claimed to be a humble man.
Charles could easily slide in and alter Erik’s memories. He could make Erik believe anything; that the war never happened, that he lost his parents in a devastating yet completely ordinary automobile accident. He could wipe out the existence of Shaw. He could slip into Erik’s mind and strip away all the walls that Erik has crafted to protect himself; he could take away the hurt and the anger and the fear. He could take away the death wish and make Erik’s mind and heart soar with the possibility of life. He could make Erik love him without shame or disgust. He could build an entire life for Erik, and it would be a gift.
He could do anything he wanted, and Erik would never be any the wiser.
But Charles will not. If he wishes to have a true partner in every sense of the word, and oh, how Charles has longed for the missing half of him, he will have to let Erik find out on his own.
Eventually Erik will come to understand what Charles already knows. Eventually Erik will stop courting Death and embrace Charles as his lover instead. Charles will see to it.
But when Erik looks him dead in the eye and tells him that they are already the better men, Charles isn’t so sure anymore that he can’t keep such a promise forever.
He silences both Erik and himself with a kiss.
It all happens so fast that Charles can barely wrap his mind around it. There is no time for Charles to feel pride for his pupils, or to feel dejected when Erik purposely casts him out with that helmet. There is no time to feel the pain of having his own skull crushed by that blasted coin Erik has carried with him, there is no time to feel the bitter disappointment of being proved wrong about humanity. All of these things will come later with time, but for right now, all he can see is Erik. All he ever sees now is Erik.
Erik thinks that Charles is doing this for the sake of humanity; not even the helmet can conceal this. But if Erik weren’t wearing the helmet, he would see that Charles isn’t doing this for humanity. He’s doing this because if Erik is allowed to do this, the consequences will be too severe to bear. There will be war, and Erik will die, and Charles will not let this happen. Even as the death of their future looms on the horizon, he will not let Erik go.
But Charles is a telepath, and somewhere along the way, he has forgotten the importance of communication. He has become so comfortable with being able to project his thoughts that using his voice to articulate them has become alien to him. He says the wrong things; he tries to appeal to a side of Erik that was long ago snuffed out by knives and electric wires and dog collars. When that doesn’t work, he tries a different approach. That too doesn’t work, and the silent promise he made to both himself and Erik is teetering on the edge of being broken.
As he lies in the sand, his legs numb and his heart breaking at the smoke that envelops the place where Erik was standing, he realizes that there was one question he forgot to ask himself.
What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?
When Charles dreams, he dreams of walking. He dreams that his legs, useless beneath the stiff fabric of his slacks, take him as far as the eye can see. In his dreams, he travels everywhere, no longer confined to a body. When he wakes in the mornings, he grits his teeth, struggles his way into his chair, and puts on his mask so no one will know the ugliness that has taken over his heart.
This is not how it was supposed to be. Every second he’s conscious, he’s reminded of this. Even looking at the children, his poor, scarred little boys, reminds him that the greatest loss suffered that day on the beach wasn’t the loss of his legs. And oh, he is bitter, so very bitter. Not just at the world, but with Erik, with Raven, with the whole lot of them. He is bitter at fate, bitter with himself.
But most of all, he finally understands how it feels to be a dead man walking.
Yet he is given the chance to set aside his bitterness with the announcement of the very thing Erik had sworn would come to pass. Identification is how it always starts, Erik had said, and he was right. And just as Charles had predicted, Erik has become the face of the terror that plagues humanity. He’s all over the TV, and leaders around the world are coming together in the face of danger. How sweet of them to put aside their differences to focus on the very war they could have prevented if they had acted as the human beings they claim to be.
Charles knows that he has a duty to the boys to keep them safe. And he wants to, he wants so badly to keep them safe and protected, to give them the peace that had been denied of Erik. But it’s as if the humans are trying to bait Charles, trying to force him into giving into the darkness that has set up home in his soul since Cuba.
One day, it is announced on national television that if the mutant population isn’t controlled, then humanity will face another holocaust.
Charles tells the boys that they are more than welcome to stay at the mansion as long as they like, the barriers he has placed on the house will remain intact, but that he has somewhere else he has to be.
The gauntlet has been thrown. The humans want a war? Charles will make sure that they go out with a bang.
As much as he wants to, Charles does not search for Erik immediately. He longs for it, aches for it, but he knows that Erik is not ready for him just yet. Trust has been shattered, broken and laying in shards. It is up to him to rebuild that trust, to show Erik that he not only understands the magnitude of what he’s done, but that he is willing to go to any lengths to make up for it. They don’t have a history of being able to meet in the middle, but Charles knows that this time, they will find a way.
He used to love to travel, but now he finds it exhausting not only physically, but mentally. It’s not as if he has very far to go, but it’s different this time. This time, he allows himself to remain open to the thoughts of others, and people have a lot to say these days. Everyone has an opinion on the latest global crisis, and it makes Charles sick to his stomach to listen to them spew their vitriol and hatred. Once upon a time, he would have tried to reason with them, to appeal to their compassion. Now he simply keeps his mouth shut, and uses their words as fuel for the fire.
Although sometimes he does make a few suggestions to anyone who is particularly blatant about their bigotry. Nothing too extreme, just a few instances of humiliation involving public indecency. He’s saving the real tricks for the big show.
He makes his way to Washington D.C. without a fuss and sits on the balcony of a five-star hotel. Tomorrow he has a meeting with the Secretary of Defense; as one of the most brilliant minds in genetics, he’s sure that he can be of help to a government in desperate need. The Secretary’s eagerness at Charles’ offer is at once both amusing yet vile. Charles will make sure that the man remembers that phone call with his last dying breath.
The breeze is cool, and Charles remembers a similar breeze a year ago. He remembers the way it chilled his skin, and he remembers the desperate cry that came from the depths of the water, the plea that wrapped Charles in chains that can never be broken.
Let it be over let it be over please just let it be over.
Soon, he promises. It’ll be over soon, my friend.
The world is on fire. Riots have broken out every major city, but with a quick sweep of his mind, Charles sees that his boys are safe, truly safe. They try to leave, but the desire to do so fade as quickly as it comes. It’s for their own good, he tells himself. He promised that he would protect them, and now he has. Now he has ensured that they will live in a world where they no longer have to hide, where they can be free the way they were always meant to be. He hopes that in time, they will come to understand that, but if they don’t…well, then he’ll just have to fix that, won’t he?
Screams ring through the air. Charles wheels himself past stiff, unmoving bodies and he is not surprised by the few that are left, combing the streets like savages and stealing everything in sight. This is what he had given up everything for. This is what he had chosen over the other half of his soul.
Pitiful. But in a few moments, it will all be over. And it will all be worth it.
He sits at the bottom of the Lincoln Memorial, watching the destruction (his destruction) play out. He sees a child standing off to the side, tears streaming down her face. Most likely abandoned in the heat of the moment, and Charles feels a slight stirring of pity for her. Trust me, child, he says, catching her eye and smiling at her. It’ll be better this way. I promise.
He tears his gaze away, and for a moment he simply sits in silence. But then he feels it; the slow, calculated footsteps. The heavy, almost panicked breathing. He doesn’t have to turn his head to know who’s standing next to him; the way his skin tingles tells him what he needs to know.
“It all happened so fast,” he says. He has learned his lesson from the last time they saw each other, and is determined to really communicate. He turns his head and looks up at Erik, smiling even though Erik is still wearing his helmet. The ridges of the helmet conceal most of his face, but Charles can still see Erik’s eyes, staring at him in shock and wonder just like he had the first time they met. “I never got the chance to tell you.”
No longer does agony lie beneath the surface. Instead Erik is filled with joy, and at last, he has left the cloak of Death and is ready to take Charles’ hand. Finally, he understands. “There’s no need,” he murmurs, gesturing to the annihilation that lies before them. “You’ve already told me.”
Charles smiles. With a press of his fingers to his temple, he bends the future to his will.
And so it ends with a bang.
Author: anchors_ashore
Rating: R.
Warnings: Dark!Charles be very dark in this. Issues of consent and of course death.
Word Count: 2510
Characters: Erik/Charles
Summary: Charles cannot bend fate to his will, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try anyway.
Disclaimer: Totally not real, totally didn't happen, and totally not making money off this, much to my eternal regret. Author's Note: My first non!kink meme fic! I admit that I have a shameless love for dark!Charles. What can I say? I need Erik and Charles to be Evil Overlords Who Rule The World In Between Their Sexytimes. Feedback is most definitely encouraged.
Charles stands on the deck of a CIA-sanctioned ship, whispers of voices swirling around in his head like smoke on the horizon. Out of nowhere the faint hum he’s grown accustomed to is drowned out by the sound of metal bending and twisting in the water. The sound of the waves crashing dimmers, and all Charles can hear is one lone voice, thick with an agony that Charles himself will never know, screaming into the air as if to shatter the stars.
Let it be over let it be over please just let it be over.
Charles dives into the water without a second thought or regard for his own life. He wraps his arms around the man (how can one man contain such power yet feel so fragile at once?) and pulls him to the surface. He is filled with shock and wonder at Charles, but the agony still festers beneath the surface. Emotions are swirling, and already Charles cannot tell where his own starts and Erik’s ends. He looks at Erik and Charles can feel the invisible drag of chains against his wrists, linking him forever to this strong, scarred and broken mess of a human being.
“You’re not alone,” he tells Erik. Words are meaningless to Erik, so Charles will show him through his every action that on this cold dark night, Charles has pledged himself to Erik, heart and soul and most importantly, mind. It will take years before it finally sinks in. Charles is strangely okay with that.
Erik snorts and says with a longing that Charles will never understand, “We’re all alone in the end.”
Charles cannot bend fate to his will, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try anyway.
And so it starts with a kiss.
Erik’s mind is unlike anything Charles has ever experienced before; rich with knowledge, finely tuned with carefully crafted layers stacked on top of layers. It’s like a maze, with trap doors lined up along the way, and what lays beneath those doors calls to Charles in ways he simply can’t ignore. Every time he slides inside, there’s something new to uncover. So much rage and anger, which Charles has to come to accept. Yet there are a few doors, tucked away in the very back of Erik’s mind, that emit a light so pure, Charles feels cleansed every time he passes them. Deep, unwavering love for his parents, although that same love is tainted by shame at the thought of what they would think of him now. Conviction concerning the difference between right and wrong so powerful that not even Charles with his abilities could bend it, although it is interlaced with fear of the cost that must be paid to uphold such ideals.
But it is the desolation, the despair that rots inside of Erik that Charles fears most. Even in his darkest moments, Charles has always found it in inside of him to keep going, to rise above, to live. He had once thought that this was the human condition, the desire to live. It’s not until Erik is grinning at the barrel of a gun to his head that Charles realizes that sometimes not even the promise of a better tomorrow is enough to keep a man afloat.
It is arrogant of him to think that he will be the one to give Erik a reason to live. But when Erik gives him permission to come inside his head, and he feels the tears that fall from Erik’s eyes, he knows it’ll be him that breathes air into the lungs of a dead man. And when Erik laughs with joy as the satellite dish cries at his mercy, Charles is more than just proud; he is smug.
He never claimed to be a humble man.
Charles could easily slide in and alter Erik’s memories. He could make Erik believe anything; that the war never happened, that he lost his parents in a devastating yet completely ordinary automobile accident. He could wipe out the existence of Shaw. He could slip into Erik’s mind and strip away all the walls that Erik has crafted to protect himself; he could take away the hurt and the anger and the fear. He could take away the death wish and make Erik’s mind and heart soar with the possibility of life. He could make Erik love him without shame or disgust. He could build an entire life for Erik, and it would be a gift.
He could do anything he wanted, and Erik would never be any the wiser.
But Charles will not. If he wishes to have a true partner in every sense of the word, and oh, how Charles has longed for the missing half of him, he will have to let Erik find out on his own.
Eventually Erik will come to understand what Charles already knows. Eventually Erik will stop courting Death and embrace Charles as his lover instead. Charles will see to it.
But when Erik looks him dead in the eye and tells him that they are already the better men, Charles isn’t so sure anymore that he can’t keep such a promise forever.
He silences both Erik and himself with a kiss.
It all happens so fast that Charles can barely wrap his mind around it. There is no time for Charles to feel pride for his pupils, or to feel dejected when Erik purposely casts him out with that helmet. There is no time to feel the pain of having his own skull crushed by that blasted coin Erik has carried with him, there is no time to feel the bitter disappointment of being proved wrong about humanity. All of these things will come later with time, but for right now, all he can see is Erik. All he ever sees now is Erik.
Erik thinks that Charles is doing this for the sake of humanity; not even the helmet can conceal this. But if Erik weren’t wearing the helmet, he would see that Charles isn’t doing this for humanity. He’s doing this because if Erik is allowed to do this, the consequences will be too severe to bear. There will be war, and Erik will die, and Charles will not let this happen. Even as the death of their future looms on the horizon, he will not let Erik go.
But Charles is a telepath, and somewhere along the way, he has forgotten the importance of communication. He has become so comfortable with being able to project his thoughts that using his voice to articulate them has become alien to him. He says the wrong things; he tries to appeal to a side of Erik that was long ago snuffed out by knives and electric wires and dog collars. When that doesn’t work, he tries a different approach. That too doesn’t work, and the silent promise he made to both himself and Erik is teetering on the edge of being broken.
As he lies in the sand, his legs numb and his heart breaking at the smoke that envelops the place where Erik was standing, he realizes that there was one question he forgot to ask himself.
What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?
When Charles dreams, he dreams of walking. He dreams that his legs, useless beneath the stiff fabric of his slacks, take him as far as the eye can see. In his dreams, he travels everywhere, no longer confined to a body. When he wakes in the mornings, he grits his teeth, struggles his way into his chair, and puts on his mask so no one will know the ugliness that has taken over his heart.
This is not how it was supposed to be. Every second he’s conscious, he’s reminded of this. Even looking at the children, his poor, scarred little boys, reminds him that the greatest loss suffered that day on the beach wasn’t the loss of his legs. And oh, he is bitter, so very bitter. Not just at the world, but with Erik, with Raven, with the whole lot of them. He is bitter at fate, bitter with himself.
But most of all, he finally understands how it feels to be a dead man walking.
Yet he is given the chance to set aside his bitterness with the announcement of the very thing Erik had sworn would come to pass. Identification is how it always starts, Erik had said, and he was right. And just as Charles had predicted, Erik has become the face of the terror that plagues humanity. He’s all over the TV, and leaders around the world are coming together in the face of danger. How sweet of them to put aside their differences to focus on the very war they could have prevented if they had acted as the human beings they claim to be.
Charles knows that he has a duty to the boys to keep them safe. And he wants to, he wants so badly to keep them safe and protected, to give them the peace that had been denied of Erik. But it’s as if the humans are trying to bait Charles, trying to force him into giving into the darkness that has set up home in his soul since Cuba.
One day, it is announced on national television that if the mutant population isn’t controlled, then humanity will face another holocaust.
Charles tells the boys that they are more than welcome to stay at the mansion as long as they like, the barriers he has placed on the house will remain intact, but that he has somewhere else he has to be.
The gauntlet has been thrown. The humans want a war? Charles will make sure that they go out with a bang.
As much as he wants to, Charles does not search for Erik immediately. He longs for it, aches for it, but he knows that Erik is not ready for him just yet. Trust has been shattered, broken and laying in shards. It is up to him to rebuild that trust, to show Erik that he not only understands the magnitude of what he’s done, but that he is willing to go to any lengths to make up for it. They don’t have a history of being able to meet in the middle, but Charles knows that this time, they will find a way.
He used to love to travel, but now he finds it exhausting not only physically, but mentally. It’s not as if he has very far to go, but it’s different this time. This time, he allows himself to remain open to the thoughts of others, and people have a lot to say these days. Everyone has an opinion on the latest global crisis, and it makes Charles sick to his stomach to listen to them spew their vitriol and hatred. Once upon a time, he would have tried to reason with them, to appeal to their compassion. Now he simply keeps his mouth shut, and uses their words as fuel for the fire.
Although sometimes he does make a few suggestions to anyone who is particularly blatant about their bigotry. Nothing too extreme, just a few instances of humiliation involving public indecency. He’s saving the real tricks for the big show.
He makes his way to Washington D.C. without a fuss and sits on the balcony of a five-star hotel. Tomorrow he has a meeting with the Secretary of Defense; as one of the most brilliant minds in genetics, he’s sure that he can be of help to a government in desperate need. The Secretary’s eagerness at Charles’ offer is at once both amusing yet vile. Charles will make sure that the man remembers that phone call with his last dying breath.
The breeze is cool, and Charles remembers a similar breeze a year ago. He remembers the way it chilled his skin, and he remembers the desperate cry that came from the depths of the water, the plea that wrapped Charles in chains that can never be broken.
Let it be over let it be over please just let it be over.
Soon, he promises. It’ll be over soon, my friend.
The world is on fire. Riots have broken out every major city, but with a quick sweep of his mind, Charles sees that his boys are safe, truly safe. They try to leave, but the desire to do so fade as quickly as it comes. It’s for their own good, he tells himself. He promised that he would protect them, and now he has. Now he has ensured that they will live in a world where they no longer have to hide, where they can be free the way they were always meant to be. He hopes that in time, they will come to understand that, but if they don’t…well, then he’ll just have to fix that, won’t he?
Screams ring through the air. Charles wheels himself past stiff, unmoving bodies and he is not surprised by the few that are left, combing the streets like savages and stealing everything in sight. This is what he had given up everything for. This is what he had chosen over the other half of his soul.
Pitiful. But in a few moments, it will all be over. And it will all be worth it.
He sits at the bottom of the Lincoln Memorial, watching the destruction (his destruction) play out. He sees a child standing off to the side, tears streaming down her face. Most likely abandoned in the heat of the moment, and Charles feels a slight stirring of pity for her. Trust me, child, he says, catching her eye and smiling at her. It’ll be better this way. I promise.
He tears his gaze away, and for a moment he simply sits in silence. But then he feels it; the slow, calculated footsteps. The heavy, almost panicked breathing. He doesn’t have to turn his head to know who’s standing next to him; the way his skin tingles tells him what he needs to know.
“It all happened so fast,” he says. He has learned his lesson from the last time they saw each other, and is determined to really communicate. He turns his head and looks up at Erik, smiling even though Erik is still wearing his helmet. The ridges of the helmet conceal most of his face, but Charles can still see Erik’s eyes, staring at him in shock and wonder just like he had the first time they met. “I never got the chance to tell you.”
No longer does agony lie beneath the surface. Instead Erik is filled with joy, and at last, he has left the cloak of Death and is ready to take Charles’ hand. Finally, he understands. “There’s no need,” he murmurs, gesturing to the annihilation that lies before them. “You’ve already told me.”
Charles smiles. With a press of his fingers to his temple, he bends the future to his will.
And so it ends with a bang.