Ficlet: All My Secrets
This was written for 1stclass_kink. I have my next long!fic of doom coming up here shortly. ;) And after seeing the movie for the third time today, good lord is it sad. I mean, really. :( SOMEBODY FIX THESE GUYS AND THEIR LOVE, PLEASE.
Author: Ashley
All My Secrets
Warnings: light slash
Summary: prompts to follow
Author's notes: I'm having way too much fun with this. Gods love you all for your wonderful welcome and feedback.
Prompt two: Alright so Erik keeps his helmet on virtually all the time for, let's say more than a year after the movie. Then one night, in a weak moment, he takes it off. He's missing Charles, he's too tired to carry on for a just a moment, whatever. Point is, Charles immediately senses him, and kinda panics because why would Erik suddenly take it off? He's all 'Omg, omg, Erik? What's wrong? Why is your helmet off? Are you ok? Have you been captured? Are you hurt? Have you been eating enough leafy greens? Omg.' And Erik is just devastated even more by Charles' concern for him after all this time/everything that's happened, and he sheepishly assures Charles that he's fine.
Then take it wherever you like: telepathic snuggling, telepathic sex, they just kinda sit there and enjoy each other for a minute, whatever.
Fill:
The solar system model orbits slowly; his hand is raised only a fraction of an inch, his face impassive, calm, cold, steel. It barely takes a tiny corner of his brain’s power to control it - a flick of the fingers, and it’s spinning lazily. The desk lamp clicks on, and Erik stands, body stiff and still, expression emotionless and hollow, empty staid. The metal balls that represent the planets hover on their bouncing sticks as they circle endlessly, moving toward a goal they never can seem to reach.
He shudders once; swaying where he stands, the lack of sleep and lack of common place to stay catching him unawares and annoyed. He drops his hand and the model falls, clanging off into the darkness of the room where the light does not reach (just like the burnt out place that used to beat in his chest).
He does not show weakness, Magneto, but he trips over a loose piece of something on the ground as he goes for the chair and the thing is flung into the wall without a thought. Ah, a pen. What a waste.
He sits in the chair, the lamp butter soft and should be comforting. He’s not sure how many cities they’ve been to in recent months, but this idea of an island…what was its name…Genosha. He’s been mulling that one over and over for a while now. A good place to fortify himself and his army, a good place to train and to plan and to launch whatever attack he deems fit on the men following orders people that are still hunting him.
Are you still there, Charles?
It’s been forever. Erik touches the edge of his helmet, the sculpted pieces smooth and soothing and yet he makes a quick decision and jerks it off, his hair springing in crazy damp arcs around his angular face. He gulps deep breaths and sets the metal down on the desk, the lamp reflecting gold and burnished red on the smooth contours of it. It’s second nature, now, but every once in a while, there’s the thought -
why can I find you
He twitches without meaning to; the words in his mind not even a direct question or even a full sentence. He blinks and sighs, allowing his chin to rest in his hand. He’s alone, there are no other mutants around, and he finds he wants this, oh so badly. He will not see it as weak; merely as a way to test his own resolve and his own powers after being away from him for so long.
Charles, he thinks.
What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt - did something happen - is Raven with you?
The emotions hit him like a brick and his chin slides from his hand, his teeth snapping on his tongue accidentally. He winces and rubs at the bridge of his nose. It’s been so quiet for so long he’s forgotten how this can feel, and the guilt that springs up … unfathomable. Why? “Charles,” he says aloud. “Everything is fine. Why would you ask that?” Why would you care anymore?
Someone sighing in your mind is an odd thing to experience.
I will always care, Erik.
“I’m not that man anymore,” he says plainly, as if by route. “He’s long gone.” Safer that way.
You and I both know better than that.
Erik opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut as he closes his eyes. The lamp is too warm and too soft and he clicks his fingers, turning it off, plunging the room into darkness. “This is why I wear that thing, Charles.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his sweaty, disheveled hair. “We are no longer on the same plane.”
We are two halves of the same coin, my friend.
Broken tone, not one he’s used to hearing from Xavier. He rolls his lips inward and pulls the coin from his pocket - the only thing he keeps now, save a small, flat piece of metal that might have once been a bullet he will never let go of - and lets it float calmingly around his fingers. “This coin?”
He can still hear Charles screaming through Shaw’s mind, can see the other man lying helpless and lips as blue as his eyes wrecked on the beach, can see the expression Charles had made at the words that split the last of Erik’s heart. He will never forget that, no matter how long he wears the helmet.
Or how infrequently he takes it off.
Erik. We can still rectify this, we can be the men we were meant to be. I haven’t given up hope -
“You should. “
I can’t, and you know that.
Erik rubs his temples, can picture Charles doing the same. The angst and pain in the other man’s voice is getting to him, bothering him, making his stomach twist, forcing a slow rhythmic pounding out of his chest that’s a thing he’s not felt in a half a lifetime. A whole lifetime.
“I’m sorry, Charles,” he murmurs, surprised, not sure where the words came from. “I am … tired.” Why are you telling him this? Don’t get so close - don’t - not again. Don’t go to that place he can’t follow you to anymore.
Why?
“Why am I sorry?”
Why are we apart?
Erik’s eyes close then, and don’t reopen for a time. “Because that’s the way it has to be. You know that.” He’s not heard Charles sound this young or scared, well, ever. The lamp light flickers and he has to forcibly settle his hands.
He gets a sense of feeling then, no words, just Charles and the fact that he does know the truth of things. There are just some nights when the other man can’t bear to think of his life ending without seeing Erik, without trying at least once more. They will always be the direct opposite of each other…but maybe not. Erik wants what he wants and has no qualms about going about whatever means it takes for him to achieve his wants. Charles will ask and plead and teach and play example in order to populate a world that is kind and gentle and will get stepped on, crushed, and exterminated.
And yet Erik doesn’t want to sever this connection. Not yet.
I don’t either.
A brief smile on Erik’s razor sharp face; he allows himself the tiny luxury of feeling wanted for himself, not for his powers, not for his intelligence or leadership skills. Charles wants him around, for him. For Erik Lehnsherr, not for Magneto.
But it can’t be that way, and yet he still basks (just briefly, no one else needs to know about this) in the soft warmth of Charles’ love and worry and gods what happened to him?
Oh, my friend.
What happened to both of us?
“I miss you,” slips out of Erik’s mouth before he can control it. “And yet I made my choice. I stand by it, I’m not afraid of it, and I will see it through, Charles.” No matter the price. He had realized that from the moment the bullet he directed put Charles on the ground for the rest of his life.
We can still talk about this. Give me a chance, Erik, a chance to finish what we so barely started! With you at my side -
“You told me no,” Erik snaps, his eyes burning as he swallows heavily. And yet I want him still.
He stands and picks up the helmet in the dark, even as Charles’ thoughts become weary and resigned. Erik can see the other man with his fingers to his temple, pleading, trying, wanting. Wanting - but yes. Erik can feel it despite the anger and sorrow that surrounds Charles’ presence like a thunderhead.
I know.
Erik slides the helmet over his head, the motion an agony he’s not felt in almost a year. Severing the connection - his heart beats irregularly, once, twice, a third time.
When he exits the room he’s in complete control of his faculties, even as Emma approaches him with more news on the island they’ve been looking at. He ignores the ache in his stomach and the slight tremble in his fingers and the blank, whirling spot in his brain that for a moment held more than just pain and anger.
Author: Ashley
All My Secrets
Warnings: light slash
Summary: prompts to follow
Author's notes: I'm having way too much fun with this. Gods love you all for your wonderful welcome and feedback.
Prompt two: Alright so Erik keeps his helmet on virtually all the time for, let's say more than a year after the movie. Then one night, in a weak moment, he takes it off. He's missing Charles, he's too tired to carry on for a just a moment, whatever. Point is, Charles immediately senses him, and kinda panics because why would Erik suddenly take it off? He's all 'Omg, omg, Erik? What's wrong? Why is your helmet off? Are you ok? Have you been captured? Are you hurt? Have you been eating enough leafy greens? Omg.' And Erik is just devastated even more by Charles' concern for him after all this time/everything that's happened, and he sheepishly assures Charles that he's fine.
Then take it wherever you like: telepathic snuggling, telepathic sex, they just kinda sit there and enjoy each other for a minute, whatever.
Fill:
The solar system model orbits slowly; his hand is raised only a fraction of an inch, his face impassive, calm, cold, steel. It barely takes a tiny corner of his brain’s power to control it - a flick of the fingers, and it’s spinning lazily. The desk lamp clicks on, and Erik stands, body stiff and still, expression emotionless and hollow, empty staid. The metal balls that represent the planets hover on their bouncing sticks as they circle endlessly, moving toward a goal they never can seem to reach.
He shudders once; swaying where he stands, the lack of sleep and lack of common place to stay catching him unawares and annoyed. He drops his hand and the model falls, clanging off into the darkness of the room where the light does not reach (just like the burnt out place that used to beat in his chest).
He does not show weakness, Magneto, but he trips over a loose piece of something on the ground as he goes for the chair and the thing is flung into the wall without a thought. Ah, a pen. What a waste.
He sits in the chair, the lamp butter soft and should be comforting. He’s not sure how many cities they’ve been to in recent months, but this idea of an island…what was its name…Genosha. He’s been mulling that one over and over for a while now. A good place to fortify himself and his army, a good place to train and to plan and to launch whatever attack he deems fit on the men following orders people that are still hunting him.
Are you still there, Charles?
It’s been forever. Erik touches the edge of his helmet, the sculpted pieces smooth and soothing and yet he makes a quick decision and jerks it off, his hair springing in crazy damp arcs around his angular face. He gulps deep breaths and sets the metal down on the desk, the lamp reflecting gold and burnished red on the smooth contours of it. It’s second nature, now, but every once in a while, there’s the thought -
why can I find you
He twitches without meaning to; the words in his mind not even a direct question or even a full sentence. He blinks and sighs, allowing his chin to rest in his hand. He’s alone, there are no other mutants around, and he finds he wants this, oh so badly. He will not see it as weak; merely as a way to test his own resolve and his own powers after being away from him for so long.
Charles, he thinks.
What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt - did something happen - is Raven with you?
The emotions hit him like a brick and his chin slides from his hand, his teeth snapping on his tongue accidentally. He winces and rubs at the bridge of his nose. It’s been so quiet for so long he’s forgotten how this can feel, and the guilt that springs up … unfathomable. Why? “Charles,” he says aloud. “Everything is fine. Why would you ask that?” Why would you care anymore?
Someone sighing in your mind is an odd thing to experience.
I will always care, Erik.
“I’m not that man anymore,” he says plainly, as if by route. “He’s long gone.” Safer that way.
You and I both know better than that.
Erik opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut as he closes his eyes. The lamp is too warm and too soft and he clicks his fingers, turning it off, plunging the room into darkness. “This is why I wear that thing, Charles.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his sweaty, disheveled hair. “We are no longer on the same plane.”
We are two halves of the same coin, my friend.
Broken tone, not one he’s used to hearing from Xavier. He rolls his lips inward and pulls the coin from his pocket - the only thing he keeps now, save a small, flat piece of metal that might have once been a bullet he will never let go of - and lets it float calmingly around his fingers. “This coin?”
He can still hear Charles screaming through Shaw’s mind, can see the other man lying helpless and lips as blue as his eyes wrecked on the beach, can see the expression Charles had made at the words that split the last of Erik’s heart. He will never forget that, no matter how long he wears the helmet.
Or how infrequently he takes it off.
Erik. We can still rectify this, we can be the men we were meant to be. I haven’t given up hope -
“You should. “
I can’t, and you know that.
Erik rubs his temples, can picture Charles doing the same. The angst and pain in the other man’s voice is getting to him, bothering him, making his stomach twist, forcing a slow rhythmic pounding out of his chest that’s a thing he’s not felt in a half a lifetime. A whole lifetime.
“I’m sorry, Charles,” he murmurs, surprised, not sure where the words came from. “I am … tired.” Why are you telling him this? Don’t get so close - don’t - not again. Don’t go to that place he can’t follow you to anymore.
Why?
“Why am I sorry?”
Why are we apart?
Erik’s eyes close then, and don’t reopen for a time. “Because that’s the way it has to be. You know that.” He’s not heard Charles sound this young or scared, well, ever. The lamp light flickers and he has to forcibly settle his hands.
He gets a sense of feeling then, no words, just Charles and the fact that he does know the truth of things. There are just some nights when the other man can’t bear to think of his life ending without seeing Erik, without trying at least once more. They will always be the direct opposite of each other…but maybe not. Erik wants what he wants and has no qualms about going about whatever means it takes for him to achieve his wants. Charles will ask and plead and teach and play example in order to populate a world that is kind and gentle and will get stepped on, crushed, and exterminated.
And yet Erik doesn’t want to sever this connection. Not yet.
I don’t either.
A brief smile on Erik’s razor sharp face; he allows himself the tiny luxury of feeling wanted for himself, not for his powers, not for his intelligence or leadership skills. Charles wants him around, for him. For Erik Lehnsherr, not for Magneto.
But it can’t be that way, and yet he still basks (just briefly, no one else needs to know about this) in the soft warmth of Charles’ love and worry and gods what happened to him?
Oh, my friend.
What happened to both of us?
“I miss you,” slips out of Erik’s mouth before he can control it. “And yet I made my choice. I stand by it, I’m not afraid of it, and I will see it through, Charles.” No matter the price. He had realized that from the moment the bullet he directed put Charles on the ground for the rest of his life.
We can still talk about this. Give me a chance, Erik, a chance to finish what we so barely started! With you at my side -
“You told me no,” Erik snaps, his eyes burning as he swallows heavily. And yet I want him still.
He stands and picks up the helmet in the dark, even as Charles’ thoughts become weary and resigned. Erik can see the other man with his fingers to his temple, pleading, trying, wanting. Wanting - but yes. Erik can feel it despite the anger and sorrow that surrounds Charles’ presence like a thunderhead.
I know.
Erik slides the helmet over his head, the motion an agony he’s not felt in almost a year. Severing the connection - his heart beats irregularly, once, twice, a third time.
When he exits the room he’s in complete control of his faculties, even as Emma approaches him with more news on the island they’ve been looking at. He ignores the ache in his stomach and the slight tremble in his fingers and the blank, whirling spot in his brain that for a moment held more than just pain and anger.