Xmen Ficlet, Charles/Erik, Erik/Marie. PG
Title: Echo
Fandom: Xmen Movieverse
Pairing, etc: Charles/Erik, Erik/Marie
Prompt: #73 Light Marie's nightmares seem all-too familiar to Erik.
Word Count: 554
Rating: PG
“Wake up, Marie. You’re dreaming.” His voice is stern as he wakes her gently, his hand on her cloth-covered shoulder to pull her from the dream with a slight shake.
She wakes with a small strangled gasp, the sort of sound you make when you want to scream but can’t. She is clutching the sheet in her hands, and he thinks beneath the gloves she wears to bed her knuckles would be white.
She’s staring straight ahead, eyes wide and frightened, lock of white hair lying on her flushed cheekbone. She won’t look at him, and her breathing escapes in small, pitiful little pants.
“Just a nightmare, Marie,” He repeats firmly. He reaches out as if he is going to touch her, but he only pries the sheet from her fingers and smoothes it around her. “Go back to sleep.”
She settles down without a word, barely moving, which means she’s still awake. Marie tosses about in her sleep, which took a bit of getting used to at first. Now he knows something’s wrong when she doesn’t, when she lies still as death, as she’s doing now.
“My nightmares are all of you.”
He nods, but she can’t see him. There is no moon, and the curtains are drawn over the window. “I imagine they would be.” A flash in his mind; the machine, her screams, the look on her face as he faced her.
Don’t do this…
He lies on his back and stares up into the darkness.
****
Wake up, Erik, you’re dreaming.
It was always very strange to him how Charles did that; managed to make him hear those words in the vividly unreal dreamscapes which his mind crafted in his sleep.
They were always spoken in the same even, calm tone, as if Charles was lecturing to his students or explaining why he’d taken points off their exam. Implacable yet benign, and utterly impossible to argue with.
Eventually those softly spoken words woke him up, pulled him from the dream. His body was covered in sweat, sheets tangled around his legs, the comforter flung to the floor in his agitation. Charles was sitting up, his warm hand resting on his upper arm. He trailed his fingers down his skin in a soothing gesture. “Just a dream,” he said, endlessly patient, and moved to give him enough room to catch his breath.
“I know,” he answered him in a gruff voice, filled with emotion, but he turned away to lie on his side. His eyes were open, staring at the wall, where there was some horridly modern painting he hated, purchased and hung because Charles thought it matched the bedroom furniture. He couldn’t see it in the dark, but just knowing it was there made him relax.
Sometimes when I hear your voice in my dream, I see you there, do you know that? Mangled, your body twitching beneath the shovelfuls of dirt, the taste of mud and tears in my mouth.
My nightmares are all of you.
Charles’ voice was full of understanding and a curious sort of sadness as he responded to Erik’s unspoken words.
“I imagine they would be.” Charles’ hands slid gently though his sweat-dampened hair, but Erik did not move.
Don’t do this.
He didn’t want to love anyone, ever again. This was all he thought of as the sun filtered in with the dawn, and slowly flooded the room with light.
Fandom: Xmen Movieverse
Pairing, etc: Charles/Erik, Erik/Marie
Prompt: #73 Light Marie's nightmares seem all-too familiar to Erik.
Word Count: 554
Rating: PG
“Wake up, Marie. You’re dreaming.” His voice is stern as he wakes her gently, his hand on her cloth-covered shoulder to pull her from the dream with a slight shake.
She wakes with a small strangled gasp, the sort of sound you make when you want to scream but can’t. She is clutching the sheet in her hands, and he thinks beneath the gloves she wears to bed her knuckles would be white.
She’s staring straight ahead, eyes wide and frightened, lock of white hair lying on her flushed cheekbone. She won’t look at him, and her breathing escapes in small, pitiful little pants.
“Just a nightmare, Marie,” He repeats firmly. He reaches out as if he is going to touch her, but he only pries the sheet from her fingers and smoothes it around her. “Go back to sleep.”
She settles down without a word, barely moving, which means she’s still awake. Marie tosses about in her sleep, which took a bit of getting used to at first. Now he knows something’s wrong when she doesn’t, when she lies still as death, as she’s doing now.
“My nightmares are all of you.”
He nods, but she can’t see him. There is no moon, and the curtains are drawn over the window. “I imagine they would be.” A flash in his mind; the machine, her screams, the look on her face as he faced her.
Don’t do this…
He lies on his back and stares up into the darkness.
****
Wake up, Erik, you’re dreaming.
It was always very strange to him how Charles did that; managed to make him hear those words in the vividly unreal dreamscapes which his mind crafted in his sleep.
They were always spoken in the same even, calm tone, as if Charles was lecturing to his students or explaining why he’d taken points off their exam. Implacable yet benign, and utterly impossible to argue with.
Eventually those softly spoken words woke him up, pulled him from the dream. His body was covered in sweat, sheets tangled around his legs, the comforter flung to the floor in his agitation. Charles was sitting up, his warm hand resting on his upper arm. He trailed his fingers down his skin in a soothing gesture. “Just a dream,” he said, endlessly patient, and moved to give him enough room to catch his breath.
“I know,” he answered him in a gruff voice, filled with emotion, but he turned away to lie on his side. His eyes were open, staring at the wall, where there was some horridly modern painting he hated, purchased and hung because Charles thought it matched the bedroom furniture. He couldn’t see it in the dark, but just knowing it was there made him relax.
Sometimes when I hear your voice in my dream, I see you there, do you know that? Mangled, your body twitching beneath the shovelfuls of dirt, the taste of mud and tears in my mouth.
My nightmares are all of you.
Charles’ voice was full of understanding and a curious sort of sadness as he responded to Erik’s unspoken words.
“I imagine they would be.” Charles’ hands slid gently though his sweat-dampened hair, but Erik did not move.
Don’t do this.
He didn’t want to love anyone, ever again. This was all he thought of as the sun filtered in with the dawn, and slowly flooded the room with light.