(Untitled)

[markedformore]

There might not be such things as happy endings for men like Erik, but there is the certainty that there will always be a new beginning. Erik opens his eyes and draws in a sharp, panicked breath

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[thebettermen]

Charles wakes with Erik's name on his lips, a cry of shock that would have been voiced by his younger self had the loop not ended in so dramatic a fashion. While Erik had implored him not to watch, that hadn't prevented Charles from monitoring the events in his own unique way, though he hadn't the slightest inclination that Erik was about to sacrifice himself in lieu of his mother. It had been to late to stop the bullet.

(A memory, unbidden, seizes Charles. That day on the grounds of his family home, Erik dressed in gray and Charles, reluctantly, holding a gun to his friend's head. Oh, come on. You know I can deflect it!But in the end, he hadn't been able to, had he? Breathless and not a little disoriented, Charles nearly tumbles out of bed, freeing his foot from the tangle of sheets as he bursts from his room and crosses the hall in a panic

[markedformore]

The weight has settled deep in his chest. Erik stares at the door with a quiet and panicked desperation as he raises his hand out of instinct, but nothing in the room responds to him -- not even the slightest rattle to soothe his singing nerves. He wonders at which is worse? Is it harder to be a child without any power and all the ability in the world or an adult with the strength to make his own decisions and without any actual power?

He breathes out raggedly when he realises it's only Charles, but he's unsure if he's ready to deal with this, now. He wishes, more than anything, that Charles could seek out the thoughts in his mind. Weary, Erik doesn't wish to waste time in trying to get them across when he an barely spare the time to define any of them singularly. "Charles," he responds with a terrible exhaustion sinking into each vowel and syllable -- his accent stronger than it's been in years.

[thebettermen]

There he is, then. Shaken, but otherwise unharmed. There is no plume of blood staining his bedclothes, no bullet to be found. No sign of the concentration camp at all, really, save for the one that was already there.

Still, that does not prevent Charles from hurrying into the room, fury and concern fighting over his features as he stares down at Erik.

"What-- What were you thinking?" he asks, as though he doesn't already know.

[markedformore]

There are a thousand possible answers to that question and he stares up at Charles -- the bedsheets coiled around him in lazy disarray -- and wonders at what answer will tide over the other man. Nothing responds when he calls for it and so he knows Erik can no longer see into his mind as he wished he might. "Must you really ask me that?" Erik replies with exhaustion running bone-deep in his body.

[thebettermen]

"You had him kill you!" Charles shouts, as agitated by the events as Erik is apparently exhausted. "Committed suicide!"

[markedformore]

What does one say to such a thing? I hadn't planned it from the start? It's the truth, but he doubts that Charles would even believe him if he were to say it. "We tried everything else," Erik says quietly. "We escaped. He died. My mother was going to die. Stopping Schmidt did nothing, Charles," he says brokenly. "Can't you see? Something else had to change."

[thebettermen]

Charles simply stares for a moment in disbelief, eyes wide and impossibly blue even in the low light of Erik's room. The brief taste of his powers has left him wanting them back all the more, his fingers itching to press against his temple. It's a frustrating state of affairs, to be as helpless in this instant as he was in whatever hell they were just stuck in, but he cannot afford to dwell on such matters. He cannot afford to be selfish, and yet he doesn't believe the next words to be so, his voice dropping down to an incensed whisper.

"You needn't have sacrificed yourself. We could have found another way."

[markedformore]

Erik raises a hand to his face -- fingertips touching his forehead and cheek with the lightest of pressure, effectively casting a shadow on his face and blocking out half the room. "What other way?" he asks, moving his hand away enough to meet Charles' eyes in the dimness of the room. There, blue as they are, striking as they are, Erik finds it difficult to look away, as though trapped until he provides an answer that Charles approves of -- one that he isn't even sure he knows.

[thebettermen]

Not having an answer to that question, Charles falls silent, even his breaths quieting as the shock from waking finally subsides. He can't exactly say that they should have gone with the original plan, to simply let history run its course; he can't wish Erik's mother dead, but nor can he wish Erik himself dead.

"Was it circumstance?" he asks, finally, once the silence had drawn on for too long. He hates having to be so blunt, but he'd been preoccupied during the nightmare, and hadn't the chance to skim Erik's thoughts for confirmation or denial. "You can't dodge bullets here, Erik. Have you entertained that same notion here. That you're better off dead?"

[markedformore]

"No, Charles," Erik replies heatedly, only lying slightly to himself. If he has entertained such a thought, it resonates in the deepest levels of himself and never comes to light. "I stood there and I couldn't help myself. I thought that if I couldn't save her and if killing Schmidt did nothing, then I could rob his creation from him," he explains, as helpless as if he were that child in this room with no control of his powers and no understanding of the cruelty of the world. "I understood that my mother had to die to turn me into the monster that I am, but you would have carried on in my stead," he says, turning a determined (and half-crazed, one might say) look upon Charles. "You would never have let our people suffer."

[thebettermen]

"And are you not one of our people?" replies Charles, the question obviously rhetorical. While there's some relief in knowing Erik isn't inclined to perform a repeat of what just happened, it's not enough.

[markedformore]

"I am," Erik concurs. "Proudly so, happy to be different," he insists with the furious stubbornness that has always come of such a thing. "But you must understand, Charles, that when faced with few decisions, I thought that robbing Schmidt of something was my best option. You're smarter than me, you would have made do if it had been permanent."

[thebettermen]

"That was not my point," says Charles, lifting a hand to smooth the line between his brows, the gesture barely masking his underlying frustration. "I'm as obligated to protect you as I am any other of our kind--" As any other living thing, for that matter, but he has the sense to not say that now. "You are my friend, Erik."

[markedformore]

"I'm alive, Charles," he reminds him with a hint of an arch and curt impatience -- as though Erik hadn't done anything wrong, as though he is simply withstanding such doubts because he feels he ought to. "Besides, I wouldn't have thought that was what you wanted to discuss," he notes, hands spanning the covers as he steadies his gaze, readying himself for the bigger topic.

[thebettermen]

"I assume you're referring to killing Shaw?" Charles replies, Erik's impatience serving only to fuel his own. He turns then, cutting a sharp silhouette against the dim moonlight filtering through window, every line of his body tense. He's shouldered the burden of future knowledge since the moment he arrived in this place, though he has only a matter of days over Erik. It's strange to think how quickly things changed at home, and while he had harboured the thought that he could change Erik's path, push him along a different way, he had, apparently, been mistaken.

But it was just a dream, wasn't it?

[markedformore]

"Yes, that." As though this is merely a conversation about small items -- as though this isn't about the murder of a man who tormented Erik through his nightmares and waking terrors for so long. "You knew when we met that it was what I wanted. You knew I would stop at nothing to achieve it."