Fic: Gratitudes, Magneto, Jean. Rated T, movieverse
Title: Gratitudes
Author: Sionnain
'Verse: XMMF (Movie-verse)
Word Count: 500 (5 100-word drabbles)
Pairing: Implied Charles/Erik, slight implied Erik/Jean if you really, really squint.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Five times Erik Lehnsherr gave thanks for Jean Grey. From pre-movies until post-X3.
AN: Written for the "Thankfulness" challenge at Like_this_One, the Magneto/Jean community. Thanks to resolute for the beta! I also owe Ion_Bond a debt of thanks for one time mentioning how agonizing it would have to be for Magneto, if Charles were injured in an auto-accident as, obviously, Erik could have maybe prevented it. So that bit of angst, I owe to her. ::g::
Gratitudes
"Are the other children going to have similar displays of pique?" Erik asks, leaving the Grey's neighborhood behind.
"Perhaps. It's not easy being young and afraid of your powers."
Erik snorts. "That girl wasn't afraid, Charles. She was angry."
"Perhaps the two of you'll have something in common, then."
"I suppose if I have to live with another telepath, I should at least be thankful that this one is more like me." Erik smiles, finding the thought amusing.
"At least that makes one of us happy," Charles says with a sigh, and Erik laughs.
* * *
"What are you thankful for, Mr. Lehnsherr?" Jean asks, elbowing Scott to pass the cranberry sauce. "All of us?"
"You have telekinesis," Scott mutters. "Can't you just use it?"
Jean sticks her tongue out at him and levitates the gravy boat precariously over Scott's neatly-sliced turkey.
"Do be careful, Jean, that's my mother's china," Charles protests, though rather weakly as he is already on his second glass of Merlot.
Erik lifts his glass, watching as the light is swallowed by the deep burgundy wine. Fire trapped by red. He smiles at Jean. "Of course."
* * *
"They say he's...not going to walk again."
Erik sits next to Jean, austere and awkward at being back at the mansion after his four months of self-imposed exile. "He'll live, Jean. We can at least be thankful for that."
Jean laughs, the sound raw. "Right. I guess we can. I mean, he's still a mutant."
"Yes." What else can he say to that?
Jean's eyes are shadowed and dull. "If you had been there...the other car--"
He stands up abruptly. "Call me if you need anything," he says tightly.
He knows she won't.
* * *
"Jean Grey is dead," Mystique says tonelessly.
Erik knows that Jean was lost to him long before the waters of Alkali rose to claim her. He tries to think of her as an enemy vanquished, but all he remembers is the young girl who taunted Scott over video games, who used to hide novels tucked inside her textbook.
"I'm thankful I saw her one last time," he says quietly, "And that it was not through the walls of that plastic prison."
Mystique wordlessly slides her hand over his. The feel of her scales is warm, a comfort.
* * *
"Do you know what it is you must do tomorrow?" Erik asks, hands sliding over Jean's shoulders. Her muscles shift like silk beneath his hands.
"Finish what you started?"
She looks at him and there's something else, swimming deep beneath the dark gleam of her eyes. The setting sun throws light around her, reflecting the red of her hair like a halo made of blood. "Finish what they started," he corrects softly. "Jean...I'm very thankful you're alive."
She turns her face up to the sky and smiles. "You won't be," she says, and laughs.
Author: Sionnain
'Verse: XMMF (Movie-verse)
Word Count: 500 (5 100-word drabbles)
Pairing: Implied Charles/Erik, slight implied Erik/Jean if you really, really squint.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Five times Erik Lehnsherr gave thanks for Jean Grey. From pre-movies until post-X3.
AN: Written for the "Thankfulness" challenge at Like_this_One, the Magneto/Jean community. Thanks to resolute for the beta! I also owe Ion_Bond a debt of thanks for one time mentioning how agonizing it would have to be for Magneto, if Charles were injured in an auto-accident as, obviously, Erik could have maybe prevented it. So that bit of angst, I owe to her. ::g::
Gratitudes
"Are the other children going to have similar displays of pique?" Erik asks, leaving the Grey's neighborhood behind.
"Perhaps. It's not easy being young and afraid of your powers."
Erik snorts. "That girl wasn't afraid, Charles. She was angry."
"Perhaps the two of you'll have something in common, then."
"I suppose if I have to live with another telepath, I should at least be thankful that this one is more like me." Erik smiles, finding the thought amusing.
"At least that makes one of us happy," Charles says with a sigh, and Erik laughs.
* * *
"What are you thankful for, Mr. Lehnsherr?" Jean asks, elbowing Scott to pass the cranberry sauce. "All of us?"
"You have telekinesis," Scott mutters. "Can't you just use it?"
Jean sticks her tongue out at him and levitates the gravy boat precariously over Scott's neatly-sliced turkey.
"Do be careful, Jean, that's my mother's china," Charles protests, though rather weakly as he is already on his second glass of Merlot.
Erik lifts his glass, watching as the light is swallowed by the deep burgundy wine. Fire trapped by red. He smiles at Jean. "Of course."
* * *
"They say he's...not going to walk again."
Erik sits next to Jean, austere and awkward at being back at the mansion after his four months of self-imposed exile. "He'll live, Jean. We can at least be thankful for that."
Jean laughs, the sound raw. "Right. I guess we can. I mean, he's still a mutant."
"Yes." What else can he say to that?
Jean's eyes are shadowed and dull. "If you had been there...the other car--"
He stands up abruptly. "Call me if you need anything," he says tightly.
He knows she won't.
* * *
"Jean Grey is dead," Mystique says tonelessly.
Erik knows that Jean was lost to him long before the waters of Alkali rose to claim her. He tries to think of her as an enemy vanquished, but all he remembers is the young girl who taunted Scott over video games, who used to hide novels tucked inside her textbook.
"I'm thankful I saw her one last time," he says quietly, "And that it was not through the walls of that plastic prison."
Mystique wordlessly slides her hand over his. The feel of her scales is warm, a comfort.
* * *
"Do you know what it is you must do tomorrow?" Erik asks, hands sliding over Jean's shoulders. Her muscles shift like silk beneath his hands.
"Finish what you started?"
She looks at him and there's something else, swimming deep beneath the dark gleam of her eyes. The setting sun throws light around her, reflecting the red of her hair like a halo made of blood. "Finish what they started," he corrects softly. "Jean...I'm very thankful you're alive."
She turns her face up to the sky and smiles. "You won't be," she says, and laughs.