FIC: An Earlier Heaven - Charles/Erik, XMFC - (5/??)
Title: An Earlier Heaven (5/??)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~5,200 for the chapter (total: 50,000+)
Warnings: mpreg
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: None.
Summary: In the wake of Cuba, Charles and his students are ready to pick up the pieces and work toward achieving Charles's dream of a safe haven for young mutants. Those plans, however, take a surprising turn thanks to a very unexpected complication. As he slowly builds a future for his students and for his child, Charles struggles with the loss of Erik and the secrets he's willing to keep to protect his family, but those strides are shattered when Erik makes a startling reappearance into his life. [mpreg, kidfic, ensemble]
Previous Parts available at LJ, DW and AO3.
An Earlier Heaven (Part 5)
Charles had hoped for a quiet morning, a chance to deal with his own jumbled emotions about the fact that Erik was again under his roof, but he'd barely finished dressing himself and Jean before there was a steady knock at his bedroom door.
"Come in, Raven."
She was in her natural form, which he did not mind, and she was clothed, which he appreciated, even if it was only in deference to him. She gave him a timorous little smile, as if unsure of her welcome. Now, with no threat to assess, Charles made sure to keep his mind away from hers as much as possible. "I hope you're not surprised to see me," she said. "You know there's no way you could drop that kind of bomb on me --" She pointed at Jean "-- and not expect to have to answer some questions."
"Not at all," he assured her, trying to return her smile as he was hit with how much he'd missed her over the last year. "I expect nothing less than the veritable inquisition."
"It won't be quite that bad," she said with a little laugh. Her eyes kept flickering from his face over to Jean. Finally, she said. "Can I...can I hold her?"
"Of course," Charles told her. He gently picked Jean up, then looked at Raven encouragingly. "I'm sure she'd loved to meet her Aunt Raven."
The burst of sadhappynostalgia from Raven was unavoidable for Charles as she leaned in and scooped Jean up into her arms. "Hi there," she cooed at her, while Jean looked at Raven's scaly, blue face and yellow eyes with a sense of wonder, the same way she looked at Hank before she tugged on his fur and giggled at her own antics. "Hey, pretty girl. I'm your Aunty Raven."
"Aunty Raven?" Charles asked, though he was grinning.
"Of course," Raven said, still too transfixed by Jean's face to look away. Charles couldn't blame her. "You know, like A-aunt-y Clarissa, remember?"
"I do," he said.
Raven's smiled dimmed a little as she finally looked over at Charles, her eyes lingering on the wheelchair. "I wanted to come to see you, you know," she said. "When Janos told us about the wheelchair. But Erik wouldn't let me come with him."
"Any particular reason?"
Raven's reply was muffled as Jean began to run her hands over the textured skin of the shapeshifter's face. "He wasn't sure I'd leave again if I came back." She distracted herself by freeing her nose from Jean's fingers. "I wasn't sure either."
"Raven, look at me." She reluctantly compiled with his request. "I don't want your pity," Charles said firmly, gaze sharp, making sure she understood. "Things are different, but I am not less, do you understand? I don't want you to think of me like that."
She nodded a little but turned away to hide the tears in her eyes, still bouncing Jean a little in her arms. "I don't know what your schedule's like now. Am I keeping you from being somewhere?"
"Well, I'm sure neither me nor my girl there would say no to some breakfast," Charles told her. "Have you eaten?"
She hadn't, it turned out, so Raven accompanied Charles, refusing to return Jean to her father's arms and, in fact, said she considered it her aunt-ly duty to help with Jean's meal. The siblings deliberately kept the conversation light through breakfast, which even extended to when they'd abandoned the kitchen for Charles's study where Raven spread out a blanket on the floor so that Jean could explore to her heart's content. Raven hunkered on ground-level with her, oohing and ahhing over every little thing she did. Jean was at that age where she wanted to explore, crawling with enthusiasm and often pulling herself up on whatever piece of furniture was handy, which often turned out to be Charles's motionless legs or wheelchair.
Charles couldn't help the bittersweet sweep of emotion he felt as he watched her hand grasp at his pants leg in determination, but it was soon interrupted by Raven not-so-subtly clearing her throat. "Yes, Raven?"
"Are we going to keep talking around the elephant in the room?" she asked. "Or are you going to spill and tell me why Jean's here and her mom's not?"
"Can I pass on this?" Charles asked, though he knew the answer.
"Hell, no," she told him. "You have a baby, Charles and the stork didn't exactly drop her on your doorstep. But these things usually take a mommy and a daddy to happen and one of those things seem to be missing."
Given her incredulous tone, Charles couldn't help but wonder what her reaction would be if he informed they apparently didn't when it came to some mutants. He had no plans to find out, however. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"You could at least tell me her name," Raven said. "She's got to be someone I know."
"It doesn't matter," Charles told her. "So I'd really wish you'd drop this."
"I don't understand why it's such a big secret," Raven huffed, doing a rather convincing impression of how she'd been as a teenager, probably giving Charles a preview for what he could expect when Jean reached that difficult, awkward age. "I'm not going to hunt her down and demand vengeance because she abandoned you two."
"Now you're being very overdramatic," Charles said, rolling his eyes. "There's really nothing to tell you. M-- the pregnancy was completely unexpected, but it was clear that I was the only one in a position to raise Jean and that I'd have to do it alone. And I won't tell you who because it doesn't matter," he continued before she could say anything. "Nothing will ever change that fact. Ever."
Raven was looking at him in that suspicious way she'd developed over the years, an expression she said she'd learned from a certain telepath. It meant she was searching every nuance of his face looking for clues, but Charles knew her tricks and kept his face determined but bland. She snorted in frustration. "Fine, be that way. I don't care."
Charles couldn't stop the laughter. "I beg to differ, young lady. That expression says you care a great deal."
"I...just..." Raven scooted over toward him, mindful of Jean's presence, then pulled herself up by the arm of his chair until she was on her knees, looking at him almost eye-to-eye. When he raised an eyebrow in question, Raven leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just because I left doesn't mean I don't love you, Charles."
"Oh, Raven." Charles returned her embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead the way he always had, the way he did Jean now. "I never thought it did." So close, it was hard to miss the frustration rolling off her even though he was not its target. "But something tells me you're finding others don't feel the same."
She sighed and pulled away, sinking back to the floor in time for Jean to decide to use Raven's knees as her next climbing obstacle. "I don't know what his problem is."
"I'm assuming we're both talking about Hank?" Charles asked. At her nod, he said, "It's not that difficult. to figure out."
"He's acting like I left him."
"You did."
"I didn't," she protested. "I didn't leave him, I went with Erik!"
"I don't think that's a distinction that Hank grasps," Charles told her.
"Not very smart for a genius, then, is he?"
"Raven..." Charles let out a long breath, choosing his words carefully. "He was very hurt by your decision. It's been hard on him, both your absence and his feelings about it. Please, don't make it harder for him."
"Harder for him?" she repeated. "For him?"
"Yes, him," Charles told her. "Hank was very fond of you. He doesn't make friends easily and it was devastating to him that you left, surely you know that. On top of that, he lost his freedom because the alteration to his mutation. So, please, use some of your vaulted intuition and try not to break his heart. Again.."
Raven glared at her. "Sure you're still talking about me and Hank and not you and Erik?" she asked, her barb more cruel than she probably intended. "Maybe you're projecting a little."
Though she was more right than she expected, she'd never learn the truth of it, at least from Charles. He took a long, slow breath before he tried to speak again. "You're only going to be here a few days, Raven. Then you'll disappear again, for months, years -- I don't know. But if you have no desire to rekindle communication with Hank on a longer term basis, I'd prefer if you'd just let it alone, honestly. Give him a wide berth and save us all the fireworks."
After the fire she'd displayed a moment earlier, even Charles was surprised when she asked in a small voice, "Could I?"
"Could you what?"
"Stay in touch," she said. "With Hank or you or...anyone here."
"Of course you can," Charles told her quickly. "I can't believe you even think you have to ask. Just because Erik and I aren't -- friends, really, any more, that doesn't mean we're enemies. At least not to me."
Raven looked surprised and Charles could feel an affirming emotion rippling from her mind. "I didn't know."
He reached out and gently touched her natural, vividly red hair. "Now you do."
That earned him a smile, watery but bright, calling up another tangle of complicated emotions in both of them that had become customary for the morning so far. Charles was realizing just how difficult it would be for all of them to be together again, even for a few days.
As if she were embarrassed by her display of vulnerability, Raven threw herself into playtime with Jean for the next half-hour until it was obvious Jean was ready for her nap. She then delighted in putting her down to sleep in the small crib Charles kept there, and Raven watched her niece sleep with an intensity that had Charles smiling behind his book as he watched from across the room.
"Jean," she said after a few minutes of examination. "That's Scottish, isn't it?"
"I have no idea," he answered, distracted by the paragraph he was reading. "I don't think I've ever looked it up."
After another few moments, Raven spoke again. "Does Moira ever come by?"
Charles lowered his book and looked at his sister. "Why do you ask?"
"I just wondered." She was still looking at Jean. "The two of you seemed...close. I was surprised she wasn't here when we got here."
"Moira doesn't...I haven't seen her in a very long time," he admitted.
"Why?" she asked. "That doesn't make any sense, does it? I mean..."
"She doesn't remember." Charles busied himself with his book to avoid Raven's incredulous expression. "Everything after Shaw's attack on the CIA base. I made her forget it."
"Why?"
"For our safety," Charles told her. "And hers. I didn't want to tie Moira to me any more than I'd wanted to do it to you, Raven. As long as she knew everything, she had to be part of keeping this place a secret and she couldn't go back to her life with that on her shoulders. It was safer for everyone if she couldn't tell them anything."
"So you let her go."
Charles nodded.
"Forever?" she asked with such sadness in her voice that Charles was tempted to read her mind to find its source.
"Yes," he said.
"You've lost so much, haven't you?" Raven said, her voice still achingly sad. "More than I even knew."
Charles thought about Erik and what he'd thought they could have together, the connection and exhilaration of knowing him, being with him. He thought about Moira, so strong and furious on his behalf when he hadn't been strong enough to do it himself, and he thought of Raven, all the days and nights when she'd been his only friend, only family. "I won't say it's been easy," he began. "But there have been some tradeoffs. I have Jean and she's -- I wouldn't trade her for anything or anyone. I know it's a cliché, but you don't really understand until you have a child, how much it changes you. How much it means."
Raven looked like she was about to say something, though Charles couldn't be sure of what given the inscrutable look on her face. Charles raised his hand to stop her, however, as he finally noticed the strange nothingness that worried at the back of his mind. It was the void that Erik represented on his mental landscape and though prolonged contact over the last twelve hours had rendered it less distracting, he could still sense its closeness.
He tried to raise his voice loud enough to be heard through the closed door, but not loud enough to wake Jean. "Are you looking for me or Raven, Erik?"
The door opened to reveal Erik's tall frame, skull still encased in his helmet that coordinated with his dramatic new choices in clothing. He raised an eyebrow at Charles who sat watching him. "Impressive."
Raven pulled herself to her feet. "Did you need me?"
Erik looked at her for a long moment. "No," he said. "I was actually hoping to have a private word with your brother."
Raven was surprised by that but she nodded. She sent a quick glance toward Charles. "I'll leave you to it?"
Without reading her, Charles couldn't tell if her hesitance was out of concern for him or something else but he smiled to reassure her. "It's fine. I'll speak to you more later?"
She smiled. "Definitely." Raven gave Erik another strange look before she left, closing the door behind her and leaving Charles alone with Erik for the first time since his unexpected visit a year before.
"You are more than welcome to remove your helmet, you know," Charles said as an opening gambit. "I can be trusted to stay out of your head, no matter what you believe otherwise."
Erik touched the smooth metal curve of the helmet as he strode across the room to take a seat in one of the wing chairs. "It was never about trust," he said, which Charles didn't believe a bit. "But I feel rather naked without it these days. I'll keep it on."
Charles raised an eyebrow at that comment. "Then, for the record, I think you look rather ridiculous."
The same humor he almost showed the day before with the boys glimmered under the surface of his stern face. "You didn't raise any objection the last time."
Charles recalled that last meeting, how twisted up with longing and sadness and anxiety he'd been and his own amusement faded. "I was surprised the last time."
Erik must've noticed the change in his mood because his own face hardened and he straightened up in his chair. "I didn't like your implication last night," he said. "You know my war is with humans, not mutants. I'm not here to harm anyone."
So much flew through Charles's mind that it took him a moment to find the answer he wanted among all his thoughts. "It's been awhile, Erik," he said slowly. "I would wager that I know very little about the man you are now."
"I wouldn't hurt my own kind," Erik objected.
Charles didn't let his gaze waver. "You have, in the past."
"Only when they deserved it," Erik said. "This is about Shaw, isn't it?"
"It's not about Shaw," Charles told him. "It's about your first answer. I have no way to know except your word that you won't decide that my students deserve whatever you wish to mete out."
"I would never hurt a child, especially a mutant child," Erik snapped. "Not even Alex, despite the fact that he'd like nothing more than a reason to hit me with a plasma burst."
"But what of other children, Erik?" Charles asked. "Is Jean not safe despite her mutant parentage if it turns out that she's an ordinary human?"
Erik's face grew even more thunderous with the mention of Jean, as if he'd managed to push the implications of her existence from his mind. He rose to his feet in a lurch of movement, unusually ungraceful for him. "She's your daughter."
"We've established that."
When Erik turned to look at him again, even Charles felt a frisson of unease at the expression that met him, ugly and vicious. He'd seen it before, though, but only in another's memories, a remnant of his connection to Shaw as the man had died by Erik's hand.
"Even though it's become clear that you were not -- that you..." Erik shook his head, demonstrably frustrated by his own inarticulacy. "She is your daughter," he said again. "And though you apparently have not shown me the same courtesy, I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. She is...quite safe from me."
Erik didn't wait for a reply before he stormed off, leaving Charles and Jean alone for the first time all morning. Charles sighed as he moved across the room to check that Jean was still sleeping peacefully in her crib, undisturbed by Erik's dramatics.
"He doesn't need to try, does he, love?" he asked the sleeping child. "He does it well enough without any effort at all."
**
Erik had known that coming to Charles would be a bad idea.
As he left the study, his anger flaring, he knew the only reason that he was not warping the metal in his wake was because of how tightly he was holding on to his tattered control. He'd made a promise to Charles when the telepath had agreed to let him, Raven and Angel stay there and he did not plan to break it. He would not use his powers in any way that Charles could construe as a threat.
But it wasn't easy, not when the knot of consuming anger he'd thought he'd learned to ignore after Shaw's death was roiling inside him, desperate for an outlet, not when he was under assault from it and so many other emotions as well -- guilt, pain, regret, and an ache so deep it felt like part of his bones.
Erik didn't realize where he was heading until he was outdoors, standing where he could look out at the satellite dish he'd once moved with his mind. He leaned against the stone balustrade as he'd done that day and forced himself to take long, slow breaths.
It had been Raven's -- Mystique's -- idea to come to Charles when it had become obvious they were cut off from Azazel, Emma and Janos. With Shaw's resources cut off from them for the moment and their teleporter as well, no place had seemed safer than the Westchester manor, not one that was quickly reached or easily accessible. Erik had come with misgivings, but he'd expected that Charles's fondness for his sister and sense of fair play would gain them entrance.
And it had, just as he'd predicted. But what Erik hadn't properly considered was his own reaction to what he'd find there, although never would he have imagined that a development like little Jean Xavier would be waiting for him.
Erik had never let himself suffer under any delusions that what he'd shared with Charles had been anything more than a strange camaraderie forged by circumstance. He had, of course, come to care for Charles -- something he'd admitted as much on that beach, a momentary show of weakness he did not plan to repeat -- but Charles had been more effusive in his manner from the beginning. And then had come the last few days of their time at the mansion, when Charles had shown up at his bedroom door in the middle of the night with a softness in his eyes that even caught Erik off-guard, promises flowing from his lips as surely as his hands had flowed over Erik's body and Erik's over his in return.
As tempted as he'd been, Erik had known not to trust it, ignoring the promises Charles had made in the heat of passion and the pleas that had followed in the days after when Charles had tried to convince him to release his vendetta against Shaw. But deep inside, he'd never doubted Charles's sincerity or his fondness, and it had been a loss he'd regretted when their paths had diverged in Cuba.
Now, however, Erik didn't even have to regret that because it, like some kind of extension of Charles's telepathy, had been an illusion, another trick at Charles's command and that child was his proof, conceived as she must've been within the same weeks that Charles had professed to love none other than him.
If he had seen any other choice, Erik would've turned and left the moment he'd learn that hard truth, but it had been desperation that had brought them there in the first place. Angel and Raven would be safe and protected with Charles until the three of them could leave the country as they planned, and he would not jeopardize them because of his own stupidity. Anyone who had lived through the darkness he had should have known better than to believe, to hope, the way he had. It was just another lesson learned.
Out of the corner of his eye, Erik noticed that he was no longer alone on the grounds. Alex and Darwin, dressed in sweats, were approaching at a run, a measured training exercise by the way they kept a steady pace between them. As he watched, Erik could see that there was a smile on Alex's face, a grin that was echoed on Darwin's, relaxed in each other's company. But as soon as they drew close enough for Alex to notice Erik in return, his feet stuttered to a stop, the teasing expression falling from his face as if it had never been there. In its place was a glare and a down-turned mouth, every muscle suddenly tensed.
Erik offered him a smirk and watched his nostrils flare.
Darwin, who'd stopped when Alex had, was the one who actually nodded in Erik's direction. "Morning, Erik."
"Darwin," he returned. Then he added, "Alex."
Instead of replying, Alex threw him another long glare before he stomped off, leaving Darwin to sigh in the wake of his departure. Erik could admit he found Alex's overwrought reaction to his presence amusing, if confusing.
"He's not my biggest fan, is he?" Erik said when he realized that Darwin had not followed Alex toward the house.
"No," Darwin answered with a shake of his head. "He's not."
"I'm not even sure why," he admitted. Hank, he knew, had a personal, pointed reason to glare at him, as did even Charles, despite the telepath's own crimes. But Erik had never done anything in particular to Alex, not even anything as callous as he'd done to Sean when he'd pushed him from the dish to help overcome his fear of flight.
"I'm sure if you think about it long enough, something might come to you," Darwin told him, which drew a laugh from Erik. The boy's tone wasn't hostile, merely matter-of-fact.
"I am really am pleased to see you again," Erik said. "I'd like to hear how that happened, if you care to share."
"I adapt to survive," Darwin said as he had on their first meeting. "The best that Charles can figure, my mutation turned me into pure energy to combat what Shaw did to me. And for months, I just...floated. Out there." He shrugged, wiping a sleeve against the sweat gathered on his brow. "But then Charles picked me up somehow with his telepathy and guided me back into material existence."
"That's extraordinary," Erik said, ignoring how every mention of Charles made the ache inside him sharpen in intensity.
"I think so," Darwin agreed, then added, with a long look at Erik, "But so's what Charles is trying to do here."
"Is that your subtle way of telling me you have no plans to leave him and join the Brotherhood?"
"I wasn't trying for subtle," Darwin said, but he softened the words with a quick smile. "But it looks like you got the hint."
"What we're doing is extraordinary, too," Erik informed him. "It'll be what stops the humans in the end, not whatever fable of harmony Charles has in his head."
Darwin gave him another measured look. "Charles is tougher than you give him credit for," he said before he nodded again and headed off, tracing the same path around the house that Alex had taken minutes before.
Despite the encounter with Alex, Erik had begun to feel some of his anger calm itself after his discussion with Darwin. It was, ironically enough, a matter of focus; he needed to keep his mind away from Charles and his daughter, away from the raw edges of his hurt on the matter. To do anything else would be to drive himself mad.
Erik wasn't sure how much longer he stood there after Darwin disappeared before there was the tell-tale sound of someone behind him, someone light and quick on their feet.
"Raven," he said. "What do you want?"
"Maybe I was just checking on you," she said as she finally reached his side. "I'm going to guess whatever you had to say to Charles didn't go well."
"No," he admitted. "But I hardly expected it to be otherwise."
She sighed. "I hope you weren't too hard on him."
"Your brother does not need you to defend him from me," Erik told her. "It's really not your place."
"He's still my brother, faults and all," she pointed out. He watched as she turned and sat on the stone instead of leaning on it, blue feet dangling above the ground. "And he didn't have to let us stay."
For the first time, he noticed what was different about her. "You're wearing clothes." It was almost an accusation as he raked his eyes over her blue form, shrouded as it was in a short black dress like the kind she'd worn when she'd went around in her pretty, blonde guise.
"And you called me Raven," she returned. "Old habits are hard to break when you go home again."
"This was never my home," he corrected her.
"Is there something going on that you're not telling me about?" she asked. "You said you wouldn't have a problem coming to Charles but now you're very angry and I'm not sure why."
"Your brother is a very difficult man to deal with. That hasn't changed in a year."
"I know that better than anyone," Raven said. "But he's also one of the best people I know so I wish you wouldn't give him a hard time if you don't have to. He doesn't need that on top of everything else."
"What else is he dealing with?" Erik asked mockingly, although the wounded look on Raven's face made him regret it, especially as his mind supplied an answer in the form an image flashing across his mind -- first Charles, running and laughing with Hank, and then as he was now, contained and sedate in his wheelchair.
"I wasn't talking about that really, but there's that, too," Raven told him, as if she were the one who could read minds instead of her brother. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and sad. "Do you know what happened with Moira?"
"Other than the fact she apparently bore your brother's child out of wedlock?" he asked.
Her eyes widened. "How do you know?"
"Because I can do the math," he told her with a roll of his eyes. "Given the child's age, it's the logical conclusion to draw."
Erik couldn't help but wonder about it, as much as he didn't want to. He looked at Raven, lovely in her natural form, and wondered if the night he'd gently rebuffed her advances in deference to her brother was the same night her brother had conceived his child with Moira, or if had happened later, perhaps in comfort after Cuba. Neither scenario left Erik less angry, nor did any of the ones he could imagine in between.
"She -- do you know why she's not here?" Raven demanded. When he shook his head, she continued in a rush. "Charles erased her memories to protect us. All of us. He sent her away and took away her memories so she could go back to her life and we wouldn't have to worry about what she could tell the CIA about us and Cuba." She crossed her arms and sighed again. "He cared about her -- he had to. I mean, he didn't say it and I never really noticed but -- I can tell. I can tell when he looks at Jean. I saw it this morning. He looks at her sometimes and he's seeing someone else and it's there, the love and the sadness and --"
"I really don't see why you're bothering me with this," Erik said, more sharply than he intended. Just listening to Raven's infernal ramblings about Charles and Moira made his chest ache with the desire to lash out, to destroy something so that it was as mangled as he felt on the inside, and he couldn't do it a moment longer.
Raven frowned at him, all wounded indignation. "You and Charles used to be friends, Erik. You were -- you're the only real friend he's ever had, you know. Other than me, I mean. He's always been so...distant with others. But then he met you."
"Charles doesn't know the meaning of the word distant," Erik argued. "Before you've even shaken hands, he's digging around in your head."
"You don't make friends that way, though," Raven told him. She held up her hand, looking down at the pattern of scales that covered each finger. "I always was so envious of him because I had to pretend and he didn't. But then I saw the way he acted with you and I realized he'd been pretending, too, until you came along." She glanced back up at him. "Don't you see? You're the one who taught me that we can't separate ourselves from our powers. We can't really be ourselves if we're hiding it. Charles was in the same boat all those years, just like me."
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "Of course, I didn't figure it out until I hadn't seen him in months, but I guess sometimes it takes a little perspective to see the big picture."
"I'm still confused about why we're having this conversation?" Erik asked again. He brought a hand up to his forehead where it encountered the cool curve of his helmet.
Raven narrowed her eyes and prodded the arm closest to her with a finger. "If you can't be nice...give him a wide berth and save us all the fireworks."
With that she hopped down from the balustrade and marched back to the house, shooting him a last accusatory look over her shoulder while Erik was busy trying to remember if he'd ever heard her use a word like berth before.
Looking out at the satellite dish in the distance where it stood like a massive, silent symbol of something he couldn't understand, Erik couldn't help but ask himself why he was the one who suddenly felt so guilty when he'd been the one who'd been betrayed.
**
End of Part 5
This entry was originally posted at http://regann.dreamwidth.org/438631.html. Comment on either post.
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~5,200 for the chapter (total: 50,000+)
Warnings: mpreg
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: None.
Summary: In the wake of Cuba, Charles and his students are ready to pick up the pieces and work toward achieving Charles's dream of a safe haven for young mutants. Those plans, however, take a surprising turn thanks to a very unexpected complication. As he slowly builds a future for his students and for his child, Charles struggles with the loss of Erik and the secrets he's willing to keep to protect his family, but those strides are shattered when Erik makes a startling reappearance into his life. [mpreg, kidfic, ensemble]
Previous Parts available at LJ, DW and AO3.
An Earlier Heaven (Part 5)
Charles had hoped for a quiet morning, a chance to deal with his own jumbled emotions about the fact that Erik was again under his roof, but he'd barely finished dressing himself and Jean before there was a steady knock at his bedroom door.
"Come in, Raven."
She was in her natural form, which he did not mind, and she was clothed, which he appreciated, even if it was only in deference to him. She gave him a timorous little smile, as if unsure of her welcome. Now, with no threat to assess, Charles made sure to keep his mind away from hers as much as possible. "I hope you're not surprised to see me," she said. "You know there's no way you could drop that kind of bomb on me --" She pointed at Jean "-- and not expect to have to answer some questions."
"Not at all," he assured her, trying to return her smile as he was hit with how much he'd missed her over the last year. "I expect nothing less than the veritable inquisition."
"It won't be quite that bad," she said with a little laugh. Her eyes kept flickering from his face over to Jean. Finally, she said. "Can I...can I hold her?"
"Of course," Charles told her. He gently picked Jean up, then looked at Raven encouragingly. "I'm sure she'd loved to meet her Aunt Raven."
The burst of sadhappynostalgia from Raven was unavoidable for Charles as she leaned in and scooped Jean up into her arms. "Hi there," she cooed at her, while Jean looked at Raven's scaly, blue face and yellow eyes with a sense of wonder, the same way she looked at Hank before she tugged on his fur and giggled at her own antics. "Hey, pretty girl. I'm your Aunty Raven."
"Aunty Raven?" Charles asked, though he was grinning.
"Of course," Raven said, still too transfixed by Jean's face to look away. Charles couldn't blame her. "You know, like A-aunt-y Clarissa, remember?"
"I do," he said.
Raven's smiled dimmed a little as she finally looked over at Charles, her eyes lingering on the wheelchair. "I wanted to come to see you, you know," she said. "When Janos told us about the wheelchair. But Erik wouldn't let me come with him."
"Any particular reason?"
Raven's reply was muffled as Jean began to run her hands over the textured skin of the shapeshifter's face. "He wasn't sure I'd leave again if I came back." She distracted herself by freeing her nose from Jean's fingers. "I wasn't sure either."
"Raven, look at me." She reluctantly compiled with his request. "I don't want your pity," Charles said firmly, gaze sharp, making sure she understood. "Things are different, but I am not less, do you understand? I don't want you to think of me like that."
She nodded a little but turned away to hide the tears in her eyes, still bouncing Jean a little in her arms. "I don't know what your schedule's like now. Am I keeping you from being somewhere?"
"Well, I'm sure neither me nor my girl there would say no to some breakfast," Charles told her. "Have you eaten?"
She hadn't, it turned out, so Raven accompanied Charles, refusing to return Jean to her father's arms and, in fact, said she considered it her aunt-ly duty to help with Jean's meal. The siblings deliberately kept the conversation light through breakfast, which even extended to when they'd abandoned the kitchen for Charles's study where Raven spread out a blanket on the floor so that Jean could explore to her heart's content. Raven hunkered on ground-level with her, oohing and ahhing over every little thing she did. Jean was at that age where she wanted to explore, crawling with enthusiasm and often pulling herself up on whatever piece of furniture was handy, which often turned out to be Charles's motionless legs or wheelchair.
Charles couldn't help the bittersweet sweep of emotion he felt as he watched her hand grasp at his pants leg in determination, but it was soon interrupted by Raven not-so-subtly clearing her throat. "Yes, Raven?"
"Are we going to keep talking around the elephant in the room?" she asked. "Or are you going to spill and tell me why Jean's here and her mom's not?"
"Can I pass on this?" Charles asked, though he knew the answer.
"Hell, no," she told him. "You have a baby, Charles and the stork didn't exactly drop her on your doorstep. But these things usually take a mommy and a daddy to happen and one of those things seem to be missing."
Given her incredulous tone, Charles couldn't help but wonder what her reaction would be if he informed they apparently didn't when it came to some mutants. He had no plans to find out, however. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"You could at least tell me her name," Raven said. "She's got to be someone I know."
"It doesn't matter," Charles told her. "So I'd really wish you'd drop this."
"I don't understand why it's such a big secret," Raven huffed, doing a rather convincing impression of how she'd been as a teenager, probably giving Charles a preview for what he could expect when Jean reached that difficult, awkward age. "I'm not going to hunt her down and demand vengeance because she abandoned you two."
"Now you're being very overdramatic," Charles said, rolling his eyes. "There's really nothing to tell you. M-- the pregnancy was completely unexpected, but it was clear that I was the only one in a position to raise Jean and that I'd have to do it alone. And I won't tell you who because it doesn't matter," he continued before she could say anything. "Nothing will ever change that fact. Ever."
Raven was looking at him in that suspicious way she'd developed over the years, an expression she said she'd learned from a certain telepath. It meant she was searching every nuance of his face looking for clues, but Charles knew her tricks and kept his face determined but bland. She snorted in frustration. "Fine, be that way. I don't care."
Charles couldn't stop the laughter. "I beg to differ, young lady. That expression says you care a great deal."
"I...just..." Raven scooted over toward him, mindful of Jean's presence, then pulled herself up by the arm of his chair until she was on her knees, looking at him almost eye-to-eye. When he raised an eyebrow in question, Raven leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just because I left doesn't mean I don't love you, Charles."
"Oh, Raven." Charles returned her embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead the way he always had, the way he did Jean now. "I never thought it did." So close, it was hard to miss the frustration rolling off her even though he was not its target. "But something tells me you're finding others don't feel the same."
She sighed and pulled away, sinking back to the floor in time for Jean to decide to use Raven's knees as her next climbing obstacle. "I don't know what his problem is."
"I'm assuming we're both talking about Hank?" Charles asked. At her nod, he said, "It's not that difficult. to figure out."
"He's acting like I left him."
"You did."
"I didn't," she protested. "I didn't leave him, I went with Erik!"
"I don't think that's a distinction that Hank grasps," Charles told her.
"Not very smart for a genius, then, is he?"
"Raven..." Charles let out a long breath, choosing his words carefully. "He was very hurt by your decision. It's been hard on him, both your absence and his feelings about it. Please, don't make it harder for him."
"Harder for him?" she repeated. "For him?"
"Yes, him," Charles told her. "Hank was very fond of you. He doesn't make friends easily and it was devastating to him that you left, surely you know that. On top of that, he lost his freedom because the alteration to his mutation. So, please, use some of your vaulted intuition and try not to break his heart. Again.."
Raven glared at her. "Sure you're still talking about me and Hank and not you and Erik?" she asked, her barb more cruel than she probably intended. "Maybe you're projecting a little."
Though she was more right than she expected, she'd never learn the truth of it, at least from Charles. He took a long, slow breath before he tried to speak again. "You're only going to be here a few days, Raven. Then you'll disappear again, for months, years -- I don't know. But if you have no desire to rekindle communication with Hank on a longer term basis, I'd prefer if you'd just let it alone, honestly. Give him a wide berth and save us all the fireworks."
After the fire she'd displayed a moment earlier, even Charles was surprised when she asked in a small voice, "Could I?"
"Could you what?"
"Stay in touch," she said. "With Hank or you or...anyone here."
"Of course you can," Charles told her quickly. "I can't believe you even think you have to ask. Just because Erik and I aren't -- friends, really, any more, that doesn't mean we're enemies. At least not to me."
Raven looked surprised and Charles could feel an affirming emotion rippling from her mind. "I didn't know."
He reached out and gently touched her natural, vividly red hair. "Now you do."
That earned him a smile, watery but bright, calling up another tangle of complicated emotions in both of them that had become customary for the morning so far. Charles was realizing just how difficult it would be for all of them to be together again, even for a few days.
As if she were embarrassed by her display of vulnerability, Raven threw herself into playtime with Jean for the next half-hour until it was obvious Jean was ready for her nap. She then delighted in putting her down to sleep in the small crib Charles kept there, and Raven watched her niece sleep with an intensity that had Charles smiling behind his book as he watched from across the room.
"Jean," she said after a few minutes of examination. "That's Scottish, isn't it?"
"I have no idea," he answered, distracted by the paragraph he was reading. "I don't think I've ever looked it up."
After another few moments, Raven spoke again. "Does Moira ever come by?"
Charles lowered his book and looked at his sister. "Why do you ask?"
"I just wondered." She was still looking at Jean. "The two of you seemed...close. I was surprised she wasn't here when we got here."
"Moira doesn't...I haven't seen her in a very long time," he admitted.
"Why?" she asked. "That doesn't make any sense, does it? I mean..."
"She doesn't remember." Charles busied himself with his book to avoid Raven's incredulous expression. "Everything after Shaw's attack on the CIA base. I made her forget it."
"Why?"
"For our safety," Charles told her. "And hers. I didn't want to tie Moira to me any more than I'd wanted to do it to you, Raven. As long as she knew everything, she had to be part of keeping this place a secret and she couldn't go back to her life with that on her shoulders. It was safer for everyone if she couldn't tell them anything."
"So you let her go."
Charles nodded.
"Forever?" she asked with such sadness in her voice that Charles was tempted to read her mind to find its source.
"Yes," he said.
"You've lost so much, haven't you?" Raven said, her voice still achingly sad. "More than I even knew."
Charles thought about Erik and what he'd thought they could have together, the connection and exhilaration of knowing him, being with him. He thought about Moira, so strong and furious on his behalf when he hadn't been strong enough to do it himself, and he thought of Raven, all the days and nights when she'd been his only friend, only family. "I won't say it's been easy," he began. "But there have been some tradeoffs. I have Jean and she's -- I wouldn't trade her for anything or anyone. I know it's a cliché, but you don't really understand until you have a child, how much it changes you. How much it means."
Raven looked like she was about to say something, though Charles couldn't be sure of what given the inscrutable look on her face. Charles raised his hand to stop her, however, as he finally noticed the strange nothingness that worried at the back of his mind. It was the void that Erik represented on his mental landscape and though prolonged contact over the last twelve hours had rendered it less distracting, he could still sense its closeness.
He tried to raise his voice loud enough to be heard through the closed door, but not loud enough to wake Jean. "Are you looking for me or Raven, Erik?"
The door opened to reveal Erik's tall frame, skull still encased in his helmet that coordinated with his dramatic new choices in clothing. He raised an eyebrow at Charles who sat watching him. "Impressive."
Raven pulled herself to her feet. "Did you need me?"
Erik looked at her for a long moment. "No," he said. "I was actually hoping to have a private word with your brother."
Raven was surprised by that but she nodded. She sent a quick glance toward Charles. "I'll leave you to it?"
Without reading her, Charles couldn't tell if her hesitance was out of concern for him or something else but he smiled to reassure her. "It's fine. I'll speak to you more later?"
She smiled. "Definitely." Raven gave Erik another strange look before she left, closing the door behind her and leaving Charles alone with Erik for the first time since his unexpected visit a year before.
"You are more than welcome to remove your helmet, you know," Charles said as an opening gambit. "I can be trusted to stay out of your head, no matter what you believe otherwise."
Erik touched the smooth metal curve of the helmet as he strode across the room to take a seat in one of the wing chairs. "It was never about trust," he said, which Charles didn't believe a bit. "But I feel rather naked without it these days. I'll keep it on."
Charles raised an eyebrow at that comment. "Then, for the record, I think you look rather ridiculous."
The same humor he almost showed the day before with the boys glimmered under the surface of his stern face. "You didn't raise any objection the last time."
Charles recalled that last meeting, how twisted up with longing and sadness and anxiety he'd been and his own amusement faded. "I was surprised the last time."
Erik must've noticed the change in his mood because his own face hardened and he straightened up in his chair. "I didn't like your implication last night," he said. "You know my war is with humans, not mutants. I'm not here to harm anyone."
So much flew through Charles's mind that it took him a moment to find the answer he wanted among all his thoughts. "It's been awhile, Erik," he said slowly. "I would wager that I know very little about the man you are now."
"I wouldn't hurt my own kind," Erik objected.
Charles didn't let his gaze waver. "You have, in the past."
"Only when they deserved it," Erik said. "This is about Shaw, isn't it?"
"It's not about Shaw," Charles told him. "It's about your first answer. I have no way to know except your word that you won't decide that my students deserve whatever you wish to mete out."
"I would never hurt a child, especially a mutant child," Erik snapped. "Not even Alex, despite the fact that he'd like nothing more than a reason to hit me with a plasma burst."
"But what of other children, Erik?" Charles asked. "Is Jean not safe despite her mutant parentage if it turns out that she's an ordinary human?"
Erik's face grew even more thunderous with the mention of Jean, as if he'd managed to push the implications of her existence from his mind. He rose to his feet in a lurch of movement, unusually ungraceful for him. "She's your daughter."
"We've established that."
When Erik turned to look at him again, even Charles felt a frisson of unease at the expression that met him, ugly and vicious. He'd seen it before, though, but only in another's memories, a remnant of his connection to Shaw as the man had died by Erik's hand.
"Even though it's become clear that you were not -- that you..." Erik shook his head, demonstrably frustrated by his own inarticulacy. "She is your daughter," he said again. "And though you apparently have not shown me the same courtesy, I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. She is...quite safe from me."
Erik didn't wait for a reply before he stormed off, leaving Charles and Jean alone for the first time all morning. Charles sighed as he moved across the room to check that Jean was still sleeping peacefully in her crib, undisturbed by Erik's dramatics.
"He doesn't need to try, does he, love?" he asked the sleeping child. "He does it well enough without any effort at all."
**
Erik had known that coming to Charles would be a bad idea.
As he left the study, his anger flaring, he knew the only reason that he was not warping the metal in his wake was because of how tightly he was holding on to his tattered control. He'd made a promise to Charles when the telepath had agreed to let him, Raven and Angel stay there and he did not plan to break it. He would not use his powers in any way that Charles could construe as a threat.
But it wasn't easy, not when the knot of consuming anger he'd thought he'd learned to ignore after Shaw's death was roiling inside him, desperate for an outlet, not when he was under assault from it and so many other emotions as well -- guilt, pain, regret, and an ache so deep it felt like part of his bones.
Erik didn't realize where he was heading until he was outdoors, standing where he could look out at the satellite dish he'd once moved with his mind. He leaned against the stone balustrade as he'd done that day and forced himself to take long, slow breaths.
It had been Raven's -- Mystique's -- idea to come to Charles when it had become obvious they were cut off from Azazel, Emma and Janos. With Shaw's resources cut off from them for the moment and their teleporter as well, no place had seemed safer than the Westchester manor, not one that was quickly reached or easily accessible. Erik had come with misgivings, but he'd expected that Charles's fondness for his sister and sense of fair play would gain them entrance.
And it had, just as he'd predicted. But what Erik hadn't properly considered was his own reaction to what he'd find there, although never would he have imagined that a development like little Jean Xavier would be waiting for him.
Erik had never let himself suffer under any delusions that what he'd shared with Charles had been anything more than a strange camaraderie forged by circumstance. He had, of course, come to care for Charles -- something he'd admitted as much on that beach, a momentary show of weakness he did not plan to repeat -- but Charles had been more effusive in his manner from the beginning. And then had come the last few days of their time at the mansion, when Charles had shown up at his bedroom door in the middle of the night with a softness in his eyes that even caught Erik off-guard, promises flowing from his lips as surely as his hands had flowed over Erik's body and Erik's over his in return.
As tempted as he'd been, Erik had known not to trust it, ignoring the promises Charles had made in the heat of passion and the pleas that had followed in the days after when Charles had tried to convince him to release his vendetta against Shaw. But deep inside, he'd never doubted Charles's sincerity or his fondness, and it had been a loss he'd regretted when their paths had diverged in Cuba.
Now, however, Erik didn't even have to regret that because it, like some kind of extension of Charles's telepathy, had been an illusion, another trick at Charles's command and that child was his proof, conceived as she must've been within the same weeks that Charles had professed to love none other than him.
If he had seen any other choice, Erik would've turned and left the moment he'd learn that hard truth, but it had been desperation that had brought them there in the first place. Angel and Raven would be safe and protected with Charles until the three of them could leave the country as they planned, and he would not jeopardize them because of his own stupidity. Anyone who had lived through the darkness he had should have known better than to believe, to hope, the way he had. It was just another lesson learned.
Out of the corner of his eye, Erik noticed that he was no longer alone on the grounds. Alex and Darwin, dressed in sweats, were approaching at a run, a measured training exercise by the way they kept a steady pace between them. As he watched, Erik could see that there was a smile on Alex's face, a grin that was echoed on Darwin's, relaxed in each other's company. But as soon as they drew close enough for Alex to notice Erik in return, his feet stuttered to a stop, the teasing expression falling from his face as if it had never been there. In its place was a glare and a down-turned mouth, every muscle suddenly tensed.
Erik offered him a smirk and watched his nostrils flare.
Darwin, who'd stopped when Alex had, was the one who actually nodded in Erik's direction. "Morning, Erik."
"Darwin," he returned. Then he added, "Alex."
Instead of replying, Alex threw him another long glare before he stomped off, leaving Darwin to sigh in the wake of his departure. Erik could admit he found Alex's overwrought reaction to his presence amusing, if confusing.
"He's not my biggest fan, is he?" Erik said when he realized that Darwin had not followed Alex toward the house.
"No," Darwin answered with a shake of his head. "He's not."
"I'm not even sure why," he admitted. Hank, he knew, had a personal, pointed reason to glare at him, as did even Charles, despite the telepath's own crimes. But Erik had never done anything in particular to Alex, not even anything as callous as he'd done to Sean when he'd pushed him from the dish to help overcome his fear of flight.
"I'm sure if you think about it long enough, something might come to you," Darwin told him, which drew a laugh from Erik. The boy's tone wasn't hostile, merely matter-of-fact.
"I am really am pleased to see you again," Erik said. "I'd like to hear how that happened, if you care to share."
"I adapt to survive," Darwin said as he had on their first meeting. "The best that Charles can figure, my mutation turned me into pure energy to combat what Shaw did to me. And for months, I just...floated. Out there." He shrugged, wiping a sleeve against the sweat gathered on his brow. "But then Charles picked me up somehow with his telepathy and guided me back into material existence."
"That's extraordinary," Erik said, ignoring how every mention of Charles made the ache inside him sharpen in intensity.
"I think so," Darwin agreed, then added, with a long look at Erik, "But so's what Charles is trying to do here."
"Is that your subtle way of telling me you have no plans to leave him and join the Brotherhood?"
"I wasn't trying for subtle," Darwin said, but he softened the words with a quick smile. "But it looks like you got the hint."
"What we're doing is extraordinary, too," Erik informed him. "It'll be what stops the humans in the end, not whatever fable of harmony Charles has in his head."
Darwin gave him another measured look. "Charles is tougher than you give him credit for," he said before he nodded again and headed off, tracing the same path around the house that Alex had taken minutes before.
Despite the encounter with Alex, Erik had begun to feel some of his anger calm itself after his discussion with Darwin. It was, ironically enough, a matter of focus; he needed to keep his mind away from Charles and his daughter, away from the raw edges of his hurt on the matter. To do anything else would be to drive himself mad.
Erik wasn't sure how much longer he stood there after Darwin disappeared before there was the tell-tale sound of someone behind him, someone light and quick on their feet.
"Raven," he said. "What do you want?"
"Maybe I was just checking on you," she said as she finally reached his side. "I'm going to guess whatever you had to say to Charles didn't go well."
"No," he admitted. "But I hardly expected it to be otherwise."
She sighed. "I hope you weren't too hard on him."
"Your brother does not need you to defend him from me," Erik told her. "It's really not your place."
"He's still my brother, faults and all," she pointed out. He watched as she turned and sat on the stone instead of leaning on it, blue feet dangling above the ground. "And he didn't have to let us stay."
For the first time, he noticed what was different about her. "You're wearing clothes." It was almost an accusation as he raked his eyes over her blue form, shrouded as it was in a short black dress like the kind she'd worn when she'd went around in her pretty, blonde guise.
"And you called me Raven," she returned. "Old habits are hard to break when you go home again."
"This was never my home," he corrected her.
"Is there something going on that you're not telling me about?" she asked. "You said you wouldn't have a problem coming to Charles but now you're very angry and I'm not sure why."
"Your brother is a very difficult man to deal with. That hasn't changed in a year."
"I know that better than anyone," Raven said. "But he's also one of the best people I know so I wish you wouldn't give him a hard time if you don't have to. He doesn't need that on top of everything else."
"What else is he dealing with?" Erik asked mockingly, although the wounded look on Raven's face made him regret it, especially as his mind supplied an answer in the form an image flashing across his mind -- first Charles, running and laughing with Hank, and then as he was now, contained and sedate in his wheelchair.
"I wasn't talking about that really, but there's that, too," Raven told him, as if she were the one who could read minds instead of her brother. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and sad. "Do you know what happened with Moira?"
"Other than the fact she apparently bore your brother's child out of wedlock?" he asked.
Her eyes widened. "How do you know?"
"Because I can do the math," he told her with a roll of his eyes. "Given the child's age, it's the logical conclusion to draw."
Erik couldn't help but wonder about it, as much as he didn't want to. He looked at Raven, lovely in her natural form, and wondered if the night he'd gently rebuffed her advances in deference to her brother was the same night her brother had conceived his child with Moira, or if had happened later, perhaps in comfort after Cuba. Neither scenario left Erik less angry, nor did any of the ones he could imagine in between.
"She -- do you know why she's not here?" Raven demanded. When he shook his head, she continued in a rush. "Charles erased her memories to protect us. All of us. He sent her away and took away her memories so she could go back to her life and we wouldn't have to worry about what she could tell the CIA about us and Cuba." She crossed her arms and sighed again. "He cared about her -- he had to. I mean, he didn't say it and I never really noticed but -- I can tell. I can tell when he looks at Jean. I saw it this morning. He looks at her sometimes and he's seeing someone else and it's there, the love and the sadness and --"
"I really don't see why you're bothering me with this," Erik said, more sharply than he intended. Just listening to Raven's infernal ramblings about Charles and Moira made his chest ache with the desire to lash out, to destroy something so that it was as mangled as he felt on the inside, and he couldn't do it a moment longer.
Raven frowned at him, all wounded indignation. "You and Charles used to be friends, Erik. You were -- you're the only real friend he's ever had, you know. Other than me, I mean. He's always been so...distant with others. But then he met you."
"Charles doesn't know the meaning of the word distant," Erik argued. "Before you've even shaken hands, he's digging around in your head."
"You don't make friends that way, though," Raven told him. She held up her hand, looking down at the pattern of scales that covered each finger. "I always was so envious of him because I had to pretend and he didn't. But then I saw the way he acted with you and I realized he'd been pretending, too, until you came along." She glanced back up at him. "Don't you see? You're the one who taught me that we can't separate ourselves from our powers. We can't really be ourselves if we're hiding it. Charles was in the same boat all those years, just like me."
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "Of course, I didn't figure it out until I hadn't seen him in months, but I guess sometimes it takes a little perspective to see the big picture."
"I'm still confused about why we're having this conversation?" Erik asked again. He brought a hand up to his forehead where it encountered the cool curve of his helmet.
Raven narrowed her eyes and prodded the arm closest to her with a finger. "If you can't be nice...give him a wide berth and save us all the fireworks."
With that she hopped down from the balustrade and marched back to the house, shooting him a last accusatory look over her shoulder while Erik was busy trying to remember if he'd ever heard her use a word like berth before.
Looking out at the satellite dish in the distance where it stood like a massive, silent symbol of something he couldn't understand, Erik couldn't help but ask himself why he was the one who suddenly felt so guilty when he'd been the one who'd been betrayed.
**
End of Part 5
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