Fic: Haven 3/4
TITLE: Haven, part 3
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: NC-17
SERIES: Shifter ‘verse
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belongs to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
SUMMARY: Charles pays a visit to their closest neighboring town, Haven. A place where mutant powers are suppressed by a kind of natural shielding. Curious as to how something like this can exist, Charles starts digging into the past.
AUTHOR’s note: I’m using the tv show Haven for a crossover, but not the current season. For those who know Haven they’ll notice right away where in the past I am. For the ones who have no idea about Haven: this is about thirty to thirty-five years before the pilot episode.
You don't really have to know the show to read the fic and hopefully enjoy it!
All musings and speculations about what Haven really is comes completely from my wired braincell.
“That place is creepy!” Raven told her brother forcefully as she slammed a box full of copied files onto his desk. “I’ve got no idea what it is, but it freaks me out. How can anyone want to be there voluntarily?”
Charles riffled through the box, pleasantly surprised to see that everything seemed to be there. Wuornos was a man of his word.
“I don’t know, Raven,” he replied, looking at his disturbed sister. “Some mutants might find it appealing never to be… bothered again.”
Raven, looking her true self with her blue skin and yellow eyes, sneered. “Right! Lie to yourself. That’s the way to accepting you are different. They should be proud of what they are!”
“Raven, it’s their decision. Those who stay there aren’t prisoners. It’s their choice. You can’t force anyone to face their true selves if they are frightened of their abilities.”
She huffed. “Everyone in Westchester would tell them differently. We are different and we’re proud, Charles.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I told it to that Wuornos guy. And the woman who was with him.”
“Lucy Ripley?”
“Yes. She’s… I’m not sure…”
“Raven?” he prodded when she stopped.
“The way she looked at me. So compassionate and calm and… not like you do! You encourage us all. She seems to…” She stopped, unable to find the right words. “Like she’s… like the town. Immune. Cursed, but immune.”
“Immune to what?” Charles wanted to know, puzzled.
“The dampening effect. Like she’s there. She’s so solid, Charles. It’s hard to describe it really. Didn’t you feel it?”
“He was blind and deaf, Raven,” Erik’s deep voice startled her. The Shark walked into the room, hands stuffed in his pockets, gray eyes sharp and alert, scanning Charles. “He was handicapped because of this place. But I noticed her. She was… very solid and too real, to use your words.”
Charles shook his head. “It was the first time I met her. In the past…”
“In the past she wasn’t there and Haven’s effect on you wasn’t as pronounced.”
“She amplifies it?” Raven asked, curious and slightly apprehensive.
“She couldn’t,” Charles argued. “The size of the neutral zone alone would make it impossible.”
Erik frowned, something clearly on his mind, but he didn’t say it, nor did he broadcast it to his telepathic lover.
“Well, whatever it is, I’m not going there again any time soon,” Raven told her brother forcefully. “Send Logan or someone from Westchester. Someone who isn’t Cursed. Haven’s not my favorite place to be.”
With that she was gone. Charles aimed a mental ‘thank you, Raven, I appreciate what you did’ her way and received a light hug. His sister might not be as familiar with his way of communication as Erik was, but she responded gently. Then he respected her wish for privacy and his promise never to read her without her knowledge and left her alone.
Erik looked through the contents of the box, raising his brows. “Lots of stuff.”
“I like to read.”
“I know.” He grinned and picked out a thick folder. It contained endless copies. “I like to read, too, but this puts me to sleep each and every time.”
He leaned over the box and kissed the other Shifter.
“I’m not planning to go back for a while,” Charles said when they parted.
“Good.” Erik’s voice took on a hard edge.
“It’s their free choice,” the telepath repeated firmly. “Just like this is ours. I respect that.” ::So should you::
“I accept that some people want to hide what they are. I can’t accept that every Cursed who enters Haven is forced to lose his abilities!”
“Temporarily.”
“Painfully, Charles! And the Ripley woman is part of it.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Neither can you! You can’t even read her or anyone else in that place.”
Charles met the irate eyes. “I’m quite aware of that, Erik. But it won’t keep me from looking into the foundation of Haven; literally the foundation.”
“It hurts you.”
The telepath sighed. “Not physically,” he answered calmly.
“Charles…”
“Erik, I’ve been going for years now.”
Erik growled, then abruptly turned on his heel and left.
Charles felt eddies of anger touch him through their bond. Nothing metal suffered much, which spoke of the metalbender’s firm control over his abilities, but it was only because Erik was actively restraining himself. Normally he would have let the fury run lose.
His lover would come to understand that Haven was important in its own way. And that Charles needed to know as much as he could about it and the effects. Maybe one day a Cursed would come to Westchester who needed more than acceptance and training. Maybe one day they would need to ask Chief Wuornos for help. Or Lucy Ripley.
Charles sank into the old leather chair, thoughtful. Erik saw Haven as a prison, as a way to restrain what the Cursed had been born with. He had suffered too much of the same in his life to easily accept that the town’s people stayed by their own, free will.
While the telepath had suffered from the effects of Haven, he could see the good the town did. There were so many Curses that could be incredibly dangerous. He had found several diaries from the afflicted and their families before. There had been terrible abilities that had exiled those mutants, had set them apart from everyone else. There was a lot worse out there than being a Witchbreed, showing your difference so openly.
Like turning a person into dust by just a touch, and unable to control it among even loved ones. Nightmares coming to life and killing. Causing people to see their worst fears when looking into their eyes. Capturing a person’s soul in a drawing, even if only a sketch, which causes whatever happens to the drawing to happen to the person, or even a place.
Charles understood the need for a safe place. Haven was that place. Not for him or Erik or Raven or anyone from Westchester, but for others.
*
Erik had turned a rather ugly sculpture into what looked a lot like modern art. He felt calmer now and the need to tear into something was slowly ebbing away.
“Need a sparring partner, Shark?”
Of all the Cursed…
Erik turned around and glared at Logan. “What are you doing here?”
“Your magnetic personality pulled me in.” Logan grinned.
“If that’s supposed to be a come-on…”
“Hardly. You’re so not my type. So? Interested?”
“No.”
Logan regarded the new work of art. “Sure?”
“Yes,” he snarled.
“Huh. Hope the professor’s into rough sex.”
Erik launched himself on the other Cursed and pushed him hard against the twisted metal.
“Gotcha,” Logan only said.
Erik had no idea how the other man did it, but before he could react, Logan was free, he was on the ground, his knee hurt and his wrist was on fire.
Red edged into his field of vision and instinct overrode logic.
It was on.
Charles looked up from the file he had grabbed out of the box, a thick folder full of copied texts and pictures, and groaned.
“Damnit, Erik!” he exclaimed.
But aside from using his bond to stop the brawl going on outside, Charles had no other way to stop it. And knowing Erik and Logan, this was just something to work off the tension. Erik’s tension. Logan had a keen sense of when he was needed to bring the Shark back down a little. It had become a game that could go from verbal sparring - verbal abuse of the finest order, Alex had once remarked - to trading a few blows. Haven had managed to get Erik in a mood that required a true brawl.
Charles sighed and forcefully erected shields, ignoring his partner’s emotional outbursts.
*
“Been there. Weird place.” Logan emptied a can of beer, then crushed it. “Can’t say I like what’s going on there.”
He looked a bit disheveled, but no wounds showed. His regeneration made sure of that. His clothes were dirty and there was a rib in his t-shirt. Otherwise, nothing.
Erik shot him a narrow-eyed look, still on his first beer. “The shielding?”
“Yep. Not normal. Whatever happened to the place to make it like that, gets my hackles up each and every time.”
Erik had a bruise on one cheek and there would be more developing under his clothes, but he was feeling rather good and the aches and pains were nothing compared to what had been there before; the rage.
“How often have you been there?”
The other mutant shrugged and grabbed another beer. The six-pack was down to three now. “On and off.”
“Have you ever met a woman called Lucy Ripley?”
“Can’t say I have. Why?”
“No reason.”
Logan laughed. “Oh, you’re such a bad liar, Shark.”
Erik massaged his aching wrist. No broken bones. Logan had never broken any bone in his body, just left him with the knowledge that he could have.
“She was there when we said good-bye to the Chief. She set my teeth on edge, like she’s the reason for the sudden intensity of the neutral zone effect. Charles was never this badly afflicted, which is why he visited so often before. This time it was like he was on drugs.”
Logan was silent, eyes on the manor grounds. “Can’t say I recall a name like Lucy Ripley, but when I was there, long time ago, there was this woman in a pub. Young, good-looking, red-head. Said her name was Sarah. Pleasant on the eye. And nice. But… creepy. So much I high-tailed it out of there the very same night.”
“Brunette,” Erik told him. “Natural.”
“You checked?” Logan teased, the amusement chasing away the momentary unease that had crossed his features.
“When were you there?”
“About forty years ago.”
Erik knew the other mutant had some exceptional abilities, like his very speedy, almost instant, regeneration, which also meant he didn’t age. Anyone who thought that was such a fantastic deal would get a different idea when Logan told them a few things about his Cursed life.
Forty years. Long enough for Lucy to be a daughter…
Whoever she was, whatever she was doing or could do, Erik wasn’t planning on pursuing the mystery Haven presented. He disliked the town. Charles would keep on digging because he was curious and inquisitive by nature. Going back would be postponed for a while now.
He emptied his beer and accepted a new can from Logan, who looked rather contemplative.
“Wouldn’t go back there for a while,” he finally broke the silence. “Just my gut.”
“Not planning to.”
“And the professor?”
Erik shrugged. “Probably.”
“No idea if you’re into that kinda thing, but if he starts going on about it, tie him to the bed.” Logan winked. “I’ll help.”
Erik glared at him, but the alcohol and the loose feeling he had from the fight made it no more than a weak scowl.
Logan got up and gave the Shark a sloppy salute, then walked back toward the mansion. Erik nursed his beer, thoughts all over the place.
Haven was bad, his instincts told him. for them. For him and Charles. Especially for Charles. At least as long as Ripley was there.
And even if the woman left, it wasn’t like Erik was looking forward to another visit. He had lived this long without passing through Haven even once. He could live out the rest of his - granted, very long - life without ever going back.
Charles would drive by again. He knew his lover; the other Shifter was fascinated, intrigued, captivated… plain nosy and too naïve sometimes for his own good. He would return. Erik simply hoped that when that happened, Ripley was already gone.
*
Erik found Charles in his office. Of course. He hadn’t expected him to be anywhere else. With the box of files and other goodies from Haven, Charles Francis Xavier was in his element. Erik had never understood his lover’s penchant for research, reading obscure texts, delving deep into a matter that no one else understood, and then writing a brilliant paper about the subject matter that everyone understood. Charles had a knack for it and it was the reason for his two doctorates. Erik was secretly preening whenever he thought about it.
His Charles.
His loveable little rat.
His.
Now he studied the other man, mentally shaking his head. Shirt sleeves rolled up, top two shirt buttons undone, wearing a patchwork vest that looked like one of the kids from Westchester had knit together as a gift, color mismatched pants - brown tweed, Charles? Really? - and his hair messy from running his fingers through the wavy strands.
He looked adorable.
Looking up, Charles blinked and suddenly smiled. Of course he would pick up on that last thought!
“Feeling better?” the telepath asked pleasantly.
Knowing he looked like he had just lost a bar brawl, Erik didn’t deign the comment worthy of an answer.
Charles scribbled a few more notes, then closed the file.
“Find something interesting?” Erik asked.
“Lots. Just nothing that makes sense.”
“So you got a new project now?” The question came out sharper than he had wanted it to be.
Charles looked up, studying him like Erik was suddenly a very interesting specimen under his microscope. The Shark nearly squirmed when those blue eyes held his. Charles knew him; better and more intimately than anyone ever had before or ever would. He knew everything about him. He knew what was going on in his head without having to read his mind.
“Haven is like Westchester, Erik.”
“It’s not!”
“It’s a refuge for the Cursed. We deal with those coming to Westchester differently. We want to teach them. Haven simply switches off the Curse until the afflicted leaves. But the idea is the same. I want to understand Haven better, but maybe I never can or will be able to comprehend it completely. I can try, though.”
Erik breathed calmly, trying to tone down the negative emotions.
“You will go back,” he stated.
“One day.” Charles put down the pen and rose, walking around the desk. He reached out to run a feather-light caress over the angry bruise on Erik’s face. “One day, Erik. The town is not malevolent. It’s not an entity. I can prepare myself for what happens to me there. I handled the dampening effect before. This time the shields were so complete, I had never experienced anything like this before. But I can adapt.”
Erik caught the hand and kissed the palm, then pulled his lover into a hard, reaffirming kiss that Charles answered willingly. It gentled, grew more loving, with tender caresses and a soft, telepathic moan of approval.
tbc...
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: NC-17
SERIES: Shifter ‘verse
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belongs to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
SUMMARY: Charles pays a visit to their closest neighboring town, Haven. A place where mutant powers are suppressed by a kind of natural shielding. Curious as to how something like this can exist, Charles starts digging into the past.
AUTHOR’s note: I’m using the tv show Haven for a crossover, but not the current season. For those who know Haven they’ll notice right away where in the past I am. For the ones who have no idea about Haven: this is about thirty to thirty-five years before the pilot episode.
You don't really have to know the show to read the fic and hopefully enjoy it!
All musings and speculations about what Haven really is comes completely from my wired braincell.
“That place is creepy!” Raven told her brother forcefully as she slammed a box full of copied files onto his desk. “I’ve got no idea what it is, but it freaks me out. How can anyone want to be there voluntarily?”
Charles riffled through the box, pleasantly surprised to see that everything seemed to be there. Wuornos was a man of his word.
“I don’t know, Raven,” he replied, looking at his disturbed sister. “Some mutants might find it appealing never to be… bothered again.”
Raven, looking her true self with her blue skin and yellow eyes, sneered. “Right! Lie to yourself. That’s the way to accepting you are different. They should be proud of what they are!”
“Raven, it’s their decision. Those who stay there aren’t prisoners. It’s their choice. You can’t force anyone to face their true selves if they are frightened of their abilities.”
She huffed. “Everyone in Westchester would tell them differently. We are different and we’re proud, Charles.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I told it to that Wuornos guy. And the woman who was with him.”
“Lucy Ripley?”
“Yes. She’s… I’m not sure…”
“Raven?” he prodded when she stopped.
“The way she looked at me. So compassionate and calm and… not like you do! You encourage us all. She seems to…” She stopped, unable to find the right words. “Like she’s… like the town. Immune. Cursed, but immune.”
“Immune to what?” Charles wanted to know, puzzled.
“The dampening effect. Like she’s there. She’s so solid, Charles. It’s hard to describe it really. Didn’t you feel it?”
“He was blind and deaf, Raven,” Erik’s deep voice startled her. The Shark walked into the room, hands stuffed in his pockets, gray eyes sharp and alert, scanning Charles. “He was handicapped because of this place. But I noticed her. She was… very solid and too real, to use your words.”
Charles shook his head. “It was the first time I met her. In the past…”
“In the past she wasn’t there and Haven’s effect on you wasn’t as pronounced.”
“She amplifies it?” Raven asked, curious and slightly apprehensive.
“She couldn’t,” Charles argued. “The size of the neutral zone alone would make it impossible.”
Erik frowned, something clearly on his mind, but he didn’t say it, nor did he broadcast it to his telepathic lover.
“Well, whatever it is, I’m not going there again any time soon,” Raven told her brother forcefully. “Send Logan or someone from Westchester. Someone who isn’t Cursed. Haven’s not my favorite place to be.”
With that she was gone. Charles aimed a mental ‘thank you, Raven, I appreciate what you did’ her way and received a light hug. His sister might not be as familiar with his way of communication as Erik was, but she responded gently. Then he respected her wish for privacy and his promise never to read her without her knowledge and left her alone.
Erik looked through the contents of the box, raising his brows. “Lots of stuff.”
“I like to read.”
“I know.” He grinned and picked out a thick folder. It contained endless copies. “I like to read, too, but this puts me to sleep each and every time.”
He leaned over the box and kissed the other Shifter.
“I’m not planning to go back for a while,” Charles said when they parted.
“Good.” Erik’s voice took on a hard edge.
“It’s their free choice,” the telepath repeated firmly. “Just like this is ours. I respect that.” ::So should you::
“I accept that some people want to hide what they are. I can’t accept that every Cursed who enters Haven is forced to lose his abilities!”
“Temporarily.”
“Painfully, Charles! And the Ripley woman is part of it.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Neither can you! You can’t even read her or anyone else in that place.”
Charles met the irate eyes. “I’m quite aware of that, Erik. But it won’t keep me from looking into the foundation of Haven; literally the foundation.”
“It hurts you.”
The telepath sighed. “Not physically,” he answered calmly.
“Charles…”
“Erik, I’ve been going for years now.”
Erik growled, then abruptly turned on his heel and left.
Charles felt eddies of anger touch him through their bond. Nothing metal suffered much, which spoke of the metalbender’s firm control over his abilities, but it was only because Erik was actively restraining himself. Normally he would have let the fury run lose.
His lover would come to understand that Haven was important in its own way. And that Charles needed to know as much as he could about it and the effects. Maybe one day a Cursed would come to Westchester who needed more than acceptance and training. Maybe one day they would need to ask Chief Wuornos for help. Or Lucy Ripley.
Charles sank into the old leather chair, thoughtful. Erik saw Haven as a prison, as a way to restrain what the Cursed had been born with. He had suffered too much of the same in his life to easily accept that the town’s people stayed by their own, free will.
While the telepath had suffered from the effects of Haven, he could see the good the town did. There were so many Curses that could be incredibly dangerous. He had found several diaries from the afflicted and their families before. There had been terrible abilities that had exiled those mutants, had set them apart from everyone else. There was a lot worse out there than being a Witchbreed, showing your difference so openly.
Like turning a person into dust by just a touch, and unable to control it among even loved ones. Nightmares coming to life and killing. Causing people to see their worst fears when looking into their eyes. Capturing a person’s soul in a drawing, even if only a sketch, which causes whatever happens to the drawing to happen to the person, or even a place.
Charles understood the need for a safe place. Haven was that place. Not for him or Erik or Raven or anyone from Westchester, but for others.
*
Erik had turned a rather ugly sculpture into what looked a lot like modern art. He felt calmer now and the need to tear into something was slowly ebbing away.
“Need a sparring partner, Shark?”
Of all the Cursed…
Erik turned around and glared at Logan. “What are you doing here?”
“Your magnetic personality pulled me in.” Logan grinned.
“If that’s supposed to be a come-on…”
“Hardly. You’re so not my type. So? Interested?”
“No.”
Logan regarded the new work of art. “Sure?”
“Yes,” he snarled.
“Huh. Hope the professor’s into rough sex.”
Erik launched himself on the other Cursed and pushed him hard against the twisted metal.
“Gotcha,” Logan only said.
Erik had no idea how the other man did it, but before he could react, Logan was free, he was on the ground, his knee hurt and his wrist was on fire.
Red edged into his field of vision and instinct overrode logic.
It was on.
Charles looked up from the file he had grabbed out of the box, a thick folder full of copied texts and pictures, and groaned.
“Damnit, Erik!” he exclaimed.
But aside from using his bond to stop the brawl going on outside, Charles had no other way to stop it. And knowing Erik and Logan, this was just something to work off the tension. Erik’s tension. Logan had a keen sense of when he was needed to bring the Shark back down a little. It had become a game that could go from verbal sparring - verbal abuse of the finest order, Alex had once remarked - to trading a few blows. Haven had managed to get Erik in a mood that required a true brawl.
Charles sighed and forcefully erected shields, ignoring his partner’s emotional outbursts.
*
“Been there. Weird place.” Logan emptied a can of beer, then crushed it. “Can’t say I like what’s going on there.”
He looked a bit disheveled, but no wounds showed. His regeneration made sure of that. His clothes were dirty and there was a rib in his t-shirt. Otherwise, nothing.
Erik shot him a narrow-eyed look, still on his first beer. “The shielding?”
“Yep. Not normal. Whatever happened to the place to make it like that, gets my hackles up each and every time.”
Erik had a bruise on one cheek and there would be more developing under his clothes, but he was feeling rather good and the aches and pains were nothing compared to what had been there before; the rage.
“How often have you been there?”
The other mutant shrugged and grabbed another beer. The six-pack was down to three now. “On and off.”
“Have you ever met a woman called Lucy Ripley?”
“Can’t say I have. Why?”
“No reason.”
Logan laughed. “Oh, you’re such a bad liar, Shark.”
Erik massaged his aching wrist. No broken bones. Logan had never broken any bone in his body, just left him with the knowledge that he could have.
“She was there when we said good-bye to the Chief. She set my teeth on edge, like she’s the reason for the sudden intensity of the neutral zone effect. Charles was never this badly afflicted, which is why he visited so often before. This time it was like he was on drugs.”
Logan was silent, eyes on the manor grounds. “Can’t say I recall a name like Lucy Ripley, but when I was there, long time ago, there was this woman in a pub. Young, good-looking, red-head. Said her name was Sarah. Pleasant on the eye. And nice. But… creepy. So much I high-tailed it out of there the very same night.”
“Brunette,” Erik told him. “Natural.”
“You checked?” Logan teased, the amusement chasing away the momentary unease that had crossed his features.
“When were you there?”
“About forty years ago.”
Erik knew the other mutant had some exceptional abilities, like his very speedy, almost instant, regeneration, which also meant he didn’t age. Anyone who thought that was such a fantastic deal would get a different idea when Logan told them a few things about his Cursed life.
Forty years. Long enough for Lucy to be a daughter…
Whoever she was, whatever she was doing or could do, Erik wasn’t planning on pursuing the mystery Haven presented. He disliked the town. Charles would keep on digging because he was curious and inquisitive by nature. Going back would be postponed for a while now.
He emptied his beer and accepted a new can from Logan, who looked rather contemplative.
“Wouldn’t go back there for a while,” he finally broke the silence. “Just my gut.”
“Not planning to.”
“And the professor?”
Erik shrugged. “Probably.”
“No idea if you’re into that kinda thing, but if he starts going on about it, tie him to the bed.” Logan winked. “I’ll help.”
Erik glared at him, but the alcohol and the loose feeling he had from the fight made it no more than a weak scowl.
Logan got up and gave the Shark a sloppy salute, then walked back toward the mansion. Erik nursed his beer, thoughts all over the place.
Haven was bad, his instincts told him. for them. For him and Charles. Especially for Charles. At least as long as Ripley was there.
And even if the woman left, it wasn’t like Erik was looking forward to another visit. He had lived this long without passing through Haven even once. He could live out the rest of his - granted, very long - life without ever going back.
Charles would drive by again. He knew his lover; the other Shifter was fascinated, intrigued, captivated… plain nosy and too naïve sometimes for his own good. He would return. Erik simply hoped that when that happened, Ripley was already gone.
*
Erik found Charles in his office. Of course. He hadn’t expected him to be anywhere else. With the box of files and other goodies from Haven, Charles Francis Xavier was in his element. Erik had never understood his lover’s penchant for research, reading obscure texts, delving deep into a matter that no one else understood, and then writing a brilliant paper about the subject matter that everyone understood. Charles had a knack for it and it was the reason for his two doctorates. Erik was secretly preening whenever he thought about it.
His Charles.
His loveable little rat.
His.
Now he studied the other man, mentally shaking his head. Shirt sleeves rolled up, top two shirt buttons undone, wearing a patchwork vest that looked like one of the kids from Westchester had knit together as a gift, color mismatched pants - brown tweed, Charles? Really? - and his hair messy from running his fingers through the wavy strands.
He looked adorable.
Looking up, Charles blinked and suddenly smiled. Of course he would pick up on that last thought!
“Feeling better?” the telepath asked pleasantly.
Knowing he looked like he had just lost a bar brawl, Erik didn’t deign the comment worthy of an answer.
Charles scribbled a few more notes, then closed the file.
“Find something interesting?” Erik asked.
“Lots. Just nothing that makes sense.”
“So you got a new project now?” The question came out sharper than he had wanted it to be.
Charles looked up, studying him like Erik was suddenly a very interesting specimen under his microscope. The Shark nearly squirmed when those blue eyes held his. Charles knew him; better and more intimately than anyone ever had before or ever would. He knew everything about him. He knew what was going on in his head without having to read his mind.
“Haven is like Westchester, Erik.”
“It’s not!”
“It’s a refuge for the Cursed. We deal with those coming to Westchester differently. We want to teach them. Haven simply switches off the Curse until the afflicted leaves. But the idea is the same. I want to understand Haven better, but maybe I never can or will be able to comprehend it completely. I can try, though.”
Erik breathed calmly, trying to tone down the negative emotions.
“You will go back,” he stated.
“One day.” Charles put down the pen and rose, walking around the desk. He reached out to run a feather-light caress over the angry bruise on Erik’s face. “One day, Erik. The town is not malevolent. It’s not an entity. I can prepare myself for what happens to me there. I handled the dampening effect before. This time the shields were so complete, I had never experienced anything like this before. But I can adapt.”
Erik caught the hand and kissed the palm, then pulled his lover into a hard, reaffirming kiss that Charles answered willingly. It gentled, grew more loving, with tender caresses and a soft, telepathic moan of approval.
tbc...