Not All Who Wander (2/3)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Charles strides to the middle of the room and dramatically unfurls a map onto the desk.
“Oh, really,” Moira remarks. No manners at all, that woman.
“Here is the ship, assuming it's the same model as what I've seen before,” Charles points, itching his nose absently. “We need to get inside, and get into the control chamber, here. I need to get close enough to the captain so we can both touch the gem.” he looks up. “That'll be nice. Get to see an old friend.”
“The captain is your friend?” Raven asks.
“The Master? Oh, we go way back, he and I.” Erik snorts, and Charles raises a challenging eyebrow. “Well, it's been a mixed bag. But he'll come around, seeing as it's just us left. He'll be a good man again.”
“A good man who's leading an army against you?” Raven asks hesitantly.
Charles half-smiles. “Oh, it's not as bad as all that. He's just been hurt. I hope to see to it myself, once this stops him.” Charles drops a small cut stone in the middle of the map.
“And this is the Gem you mentioned?” Moira this time. Charles nods at her. She picks the stone up to examine it, surprised by how small it is.
“The Gem of Amarra is the one foolproof way to stop a Timelord - a man of my species. We'll be able to send the cybermen back and secure the Master as soon as it takes effect.
“Of course, we both have to be touching it at the same time,” Charles admits. “That bit may be slightly tricky.”
“Right,” Raven positions herself in front of the map. “What's the plan, then?”
“Yes,” Charles begins. “Well. If we materialize in the ancillary passage, like so, we'll be most of the way to the control chamber already, but we'll still need to hold the door at the other end of the passage, not to mention the two other doors out the other side of the chamber, to guard for reinforcements. Erik and Moira can each guard one of the main entrances to the chamber; Raven, you'll peel off to guard the far door. You'll bring your weapons; we need that passage clear or we could be trapped with no escape route. If that happens, we'll either have to fight our way back down the passage, or use this alternate path,” he traces it with his finger “to get back to the TARDIS from the control chamber. It's marked with this symbol above the door - follow it and then take the next two lefts.” Charles fumbles for a pen and makes a mark on the corner of the map.
“What's our time frame?” Erik asks. His arms are folded as he looks over Charles' shoulder.
“Well, unfortunately it's somewhat of a rush job,” Charles reluctantly mentions. “The moment I got my memories back, I became a Timelord again, and if he had any sense at all, the Master left a monitoring beacon in orbit when they lost the scent. He's probably on his way right now. In fact, if it's the really fancy model, it'll send the signal back in time. We might actually catch him fresh off our last encounter.”
“And you didn't think to mention that?” Moira reproaches. “All this time?” Charles frowns, as if somehow confused by her displeasure, but then another voice speaks up.
“Do you have any other allies?” Erik. “We're not much of an army.”
“Sadly, my usual associates are off sightseeing on Jupiter 2 at the moment. Not to be disturbed. Family reunion, you know. Besides, who needs armies anyway? What rubbish.” Erik opens his mouth to speak. “And no, Erik, I do not trust your colleagues Miss Frost and Azazel to aid us in this mission.” Erik frowns, but Charles is not going to compromise. “His mind has been degraded by years of psychological and chemical torture. We are there to stop him, not to kill him. I'm not bringing anyone who finds killing a man easier than subduing him.”
“But, Charles. Couldn't we take our students...”
He turns to Moira. “I know I've taken them into battle before, Moira, but this is different. It's not only death you risk when you travel the universe. I knew a woman who got trapped in a parallel universe; no way home, ever again. I knew a man who was swallowed by a crack in space and time, not just killed but totally removed from existence as if he'd never been. Even the reason my f-- my allies aren't here today is because they had their child stolen from them because of me. They're finally together again, but the daughter's older than they are now. It's... I just can't risk it, Moira. They need to stay, to keep safe. And to keep the school alive in case we don't return. I wouldn't even take Raven into battle, truthfully, but here she is now, so there's no stopping her.””
He feels Moira's hand around his arm. She squeezes it reassuringly.
“Okay,” she speaks. “I understand.”
….
“There's something else, isn't there?” Erik moves to him swiftly after the other two leave. “You looked away when you told us about the Gem of Amarra. You're not sure if it will work.”
Charles glares up at him. “It will work,” he insists. “It's just...”
“What, Charles?” Erik kneels. “What is it?”
Charles' mouth twists bitterly.
“I thought I was a good liar,” he speaks, voice nearly breaking.
“You are,” Erik tells him. “But I have a lot of experience with liars.”
“If the worst happens...” Charles hesitates, grimacing. “If I have to use the full force of the TARDIS, her new powers... I might need a source of old hurt. Not something Raven or Moira could provide.” He speaks flatly, looking at the wall.
“You need me?” Erik asks.
“I need you to remember, Erik. To relive it all, to feel like that little boy once more. I can form that connection I need, but I need that raw pain to fuel it, to make it understand me. And as you do it, as you feel those things, you'll have the chance to crush him with your powers but Erik, you must not. I never wanted to ask this of you, Erik. It's cruel. And it may not come to that; our plan is sound. But-- ”
“You don't think I'll be able to stop myself,” Erik nods. Charles looks up at him, startled.
“I can, Charles. I could stop myself, even if I felt with all my being that he deserved to die. Don't try to predict me because you know my past; I am no chess piece. You need this for your... your purposes. I see that. He's your kind.” Charles watches as Erik stares at the map, willfully ignoring the phantoms of his past that he sees there.
“No less than you,” Charles tells him firmly. “And... to be honest,” he pauses, “I don't doubt you. I truly don't.”
Erik can't respond to this. He blinks quickly to hold back tears.
….
"So, this new you." Erik begins, sometime later. He settles back into his chair. "Tell me about him."
"Me, Erik. Still Charles. Still myself."
"Not exactly." Erik is eying him in a way that makes Charles feel quite nude. "Memories make the man, Charles. Your past is how you become who you are."
"D'you suppose?" One side of Charles' mouth quirks up in amusement, but Erik knows enough to see he's not being mocked here. "So if I grow up with one set of memories, and inherit another, who I am has changed?"
"Well, it made you different. Knowing what you know now, can't you think of choices you could've made differently? New ideas you'd have, maybe-- new feelings?"
Charles stares unseeingly at Erik's nose. "Perhaps a few, yes. But mostly, it's as though I make more sense now, not less. Feelings that guided me, notions in the back of my mind. They were there all along, whispering to me, helping me through. Yet I find now... it was never my memories that made me act as I did. Only the lessons I took from them, learned fears, learned boldness. If I choose to, I can use them. But I see now I don't have to be limited by them. I remember other lifetimes, Erik, of other men. Men I once was, in a manner of speaking, but -- but they are not me. I'm a different man now. I'm really, quite thoroughly Charles Xavier."
"Those men," Erik responds. "What did they do? When did they live?"
"Oh, so long now," Charles shakes his head, but he's half-smiling. "Hundreds of years, Erik. Enough... enough to see children mistreated far worse even than you were. I've seen so many things. Done nearly as many: led revolutions, faced down monsters, sent lost souls safely home."
"Proud of yourself, are you?"
"As a matter of fact--" Charles' smile widens into something downright cocky, and Erik laughs.
"So you roam the universe righting wrongs, is that it? I suppose I can see you doing that. Hell, if it were to be anyone I know..." Erik shrugs at Charles rather than finish his sentence, and there is a comfortable moment between the two of them. "So. How many of them ever fell in love?"
The smile slips from Charles' face for a moment, and Erik feels a pang of regret.
"I've loved well, and dearly. But in love... twice, I suppose." Charles evades his gaze. "Perhaps three times, now. It's so much messier as a regular man, but much more raw as well. Perhaps better."
"Twice, really? In how many years?" Charles is looking behind Erik at the wall now.
"Almost a thousand."
"And did... did you ever have a family?"
Charles blinks slowly, and Erik feels he should be holding his breath. Then their eyes meet, and Charles looks present again. He smiles at Erik reassuringly.
"Well, of course," he responds; "I have one now." And Erik cannot deny it.
….
“We won't be ready for a day or two yet, you know,” Charles explains. “I have to finish my modifications to the TARDIS.”
“So you want to go out for lunch.” Erik responds flatly. Admittedly, it is odd reasoning.
“Yes, well, a man can't be expected to work all the time! I need a break, I've spent all morning crouched over.” Charles jogs upstairs to the console and blithely begins operating the controls. “Besides, who could turn down a picnic on the Seine, mm? We'll grab a baguette, make sandwiches. Feed ducks! I love that.” He pulls a lever and that noise starts again; presumably, they are in motion.
“You were always an odd man,” Erik mutters.
“Yes, I am that,” Charles observes, sounding fascinated by this fact. “Oh! Wine.” And off he goes.
Charles insists that his wine is far superior to any they'd find on site. As it turns out he is right - they've landed mid-thirteenth century. The bread is fresh, the cheese delicious, the apples sweet and crisp, and the wine utter swill. Charles escorts them to a more wooded area on the far side, where the picnickers are fewer and farther between. He seems surprised when Raven demands half the food for Moira and herself.
“We only have the one bottle of wine--” Charles begins to protest, but the women wave it off.
“Oh, not a problem,” Raven says, all smiles. “Moira and I are going to have a nice chat,” she points to a sunny spot, “right over there. You two can take the wine, I don't mind.” Charles frowns a bit, but nods, and Raven and Moira scurry off on their own, blanket in tow. Raven even throws a wink back over her shoulder.
….
“You'll like it,” Charles dangles the bottle in front of Erik's face. “It's wine. It's made from grapes, isn't that something? D'you know they make cashew wine in South America?”
“Charles,” Erik warns.
“They must make banana-wine somewhere, eh? I'd like to try that, actually, can't quite believe I haven't yet.” He's now reclining on the hill, braced on his elbows.
Erik grabs the bottle from Charles' lax grip.
“If it'll shut you up,” he mutters, and takes a swig. He downs it slowly, taking time to savor it.
“Good, right?” Charles grins at him.
“Mmm,” Erik gives him a quick smile and nod.
“Oh good lord, is it that beastly?” Charles sits up in concern.
“It is fairly awful, yes,” Erik admits. “I wish you'd just brought whiskey.”
“Sorry,” Charles frowns uneasily. “But still! New experience, eh?” And like that, his smile is back.
“Whatever gets the job done,” Erik agrees. He takes another swig and doesn't grimace.
A few moments pass uneventfully. Erik is quite enjoying the river. Charles is trying to deduce tomorrow's weather from the air currents.
“Your legs,” Erik starts. “Will they recover?”
“No,” Charles admits, sighing. “They're not even working now. Without those braces, my legs wouldn't move.”
Erik's eyebrow raise. He gives the braces a better look.
“But, if I ever decide professorship isn't in my blood, I always have the option of being a professional athlete. Don't pity me, friend.”
Erik gives him a lopsided smile. “Done,” he promises. “As long as you extend the same courtesy.”
“But you're human,” Charles tells him, regretfully. “You have no idea how rubbish your existence is.”
Erik scoffs, and only laughs a little. Charles beams at him, the prick. They are lying each on one elbow in the grass now, the only logical action given how sleepy they are from the wine, and the fact that nobody remembered to bring a blanket.
“I went all this time with only one corpus callosum. Can't believe it,” Charles continues, endlessly amused by the situation. “And I didn't even notice how weird it felt till now! Well I suppose I couldn't actually really feel it at all, till now, what with the lack of sensory neurons in the human brain - that part is rather odd as well, come to think.”
“I was wrong to hope,” Erik tells the river forlornly. “Nothing in this world is capable of shutting him up.”
“Now, now, I've been shut up a few times, and I do believe one or two of them were on this planet, Erik, so I resent that assumption.” He looks down, then looks up through his lashes at Erik saucily. “Not everything I see is something I'm used to, despite it all. Sometimes I find someone - someone so strong. So unique. So worth saving.” Charles looks into Erik's eyes. “I just want them with me. I don't want to leave them. And I bring them.”
“Where?”
Charles smiles achingly. “Anywhere.” Erik swallows.
“And yet Raven tells me you call your spaceship a 'she'?” Erik wonders aloud.
“Oh, hush,” Charles admonishes. “Who have you known as long as I've known her? Nobody, that's who, because it wouldn't be possible.”
“My mistake,” Erik replies. “Obviously you are ancient enough to be entirely mentally stable.”
“Ha, ha,” Charles sniffs. “Finished yet?” Erik only winks at him.
“Hmph,” Charles concludes. He's trying to look away because he keep almost laughing, and they can't have that. He finds it hard to control how pleased he is, though, because apparently, sometime when he wasn't paying attention, Erik decided to believe him. They both know he is still Charles.
“I led this revolution once,” Charles says after a moment. Erik groans.
“I don't have any sympathy for you,” Charles explains mildly. “At any rate, it was the outsiders, the ill-equipped, the oppressed, the peaceful, against those who were oppressing them, creatures of violence. And you know what? We won.”
“One in a hundred,” Erik says.
“No, twelve in one hundred actually, and it's happened on more than that many. Three hundred twenty-five planets that I know about so far, and that's 39 planets, all free because they took that risk. They made a fool's choice, and it worked.”
“So you're asking me to make a fool's choice?”
Charles exhales.
“Yes,” he answers. “That would be lovely, thanks.” Erik looks at him and he's smiling again, almost a smirk.
Erik has to laugh a little at that. Of course.
“Thing is, Erik,” Charles' voice changes. “It doesn't always end well. I know that.” And he looks strange, now, age shining through just a bit. “But you know what the magician said about happy endings. There are none - because nothing ends. I know it hurts, but there's always hope for a better turn. Even your mother, her story is still going-- ” Erik flinches. “I'm... sorry for that. I didn't mean to invoke her in this. That was poor form.”
Erik nods at him calmly. It makes Charles wary.
But he's never been one to give up when perhaps he really ought, and he can't help himself.
"Erik..."
Geronimo.
“There was nothing you could have done to save her.” Erik glares into his eyes, and Charles makes himself continue. “He was always going to kill her, he only needed you to see. If you'd passed that test, there would have been another, and another. If not for Shaw, she'd have died the day they took her from you. There was no escape for her, Erik.”
Erik is red and glaring, and Charles feels a dinner knife brush his throat. He winces, and waits until it lowers to speak again.
“I'm sorry, Erik, but you needed to know it, and I know you'd never see it on your own. But you must; it's imperative if I need your help tomorrow that you be sorted.” Erik is still angry, but he looks to be calming. He meets Charles' gaze sullenly.
“Only memories, Charles. I have lived with them all my life.”
“This isn't going to just be a memory, Erik. It will feel just for a second like you're really there, witnessing all the suffering in your past. It's... it's inhumane, asking you to do it. But there may be no other way.”
“I said I would,” Erik says dryly. “I can handle it, Charles. I won't snap on you.”
“No,” Charles responds, and he reaches out to grasp Erik's wrist. “It's about far more than that.”
And once again, Erik has nothing to say.
….
“No!” Raven exclaims.
“Oh yes,” Moira continues. “And it was stuck on his face the whole next day before he noticed.” She makes a tutting noise. “Oh, Alex. I know he means well, but...” Raven laughs, and Moira joins her.
“And Hank didn't suspect?”
“Oh, of course he did,” Moira chuckles. “But he couldn't be sure it was Alex, not Sean. So really, there was nothing to be done.” Raven raises her eyebrows at Moira, who smiles innocently. Then she turns, breaking eye contact.
“You miss them, don't you?” Moira asks softly.
“Yes,” Raven looks at her feet. “I know it seems like I just followed Erik off, but that's not really how it happened. I just decided... I guess I decided it was okay. Charles took me in, raised me really, and he made sure I never lacked for anything. Not after I met him. And I'm grateful to him, so grateful. But,” she draws a breath, and the disappointment on Raven's face makes Moira touch her hand sympathetically, “somehow I still wanted the one thing I couldn't have. I spent years wanting it, waiting for him to see me. But he isn't going to.” She smiles just a bit. “And that's how it has to be. And it's okay.
“I do love Erik,” she continues, and Moira is surprised for a moment at the change in Raven's tone. “But he isn't Charles. And frankly, I think he feels the same about me.”
Raven turns to Moira and there are tears there, unexpected. “Moira?” Raven asks. “Are you all right?”
Moira tries to smile. “Yes,” she manages. “I think you just... I think you made a lot of sense, just then. I'm glad you said that.”
Raven busies herself securing another piece of bread for a second or two. Charles and Erik are visible if she turns; they seem to be getting on, hopefully something can come of her little scheme. She looks back up and Moira seems to have composed herself.
“I'm thinking of cutting my hair,” Raven tries a new topic. Moira frowns skeptically.
“Well, okay,” Raven explains. “Not such a big deal for someone like me. But I want a bob, like the girls have now. I think it would look great.”
“What happened to 'I love my hair, it looks like Scarlet O'Hara's'?” Moira objects.
“Well, it does. But she only had to worry about fashions in the nineteenth century. I'm a modern woman, Moira. Times are changing.”
Moira snorts. “Are they? I hope those silly rock-and-rollers become famous and everybody gets ridiculous, voluminous hair. What will you do then?”
“Just because you don't care about being fashionable!” Raven giggles. “Some of us like to actually look nice.” Then she grimaces. “Not that you don't look, I mean--”
“It's fine, Raven,” Moira rolls her eyes. “I was a woman and somehow also a CIA operative. If I'd done my hair up and put on mascara, I think it would've been right back to the typing pool for me.”
“But really, I didn't mean it like it sounded,” Raven insists. “I know you're not one for lipstick and perfume, but you're still, you know, beautiful. Just as you are.”
Moira is surprised into a smile. “Well, thank you. I must say, I may not be donning a miniskirt anytime soon, but a real compliment is still the way to a woman's heart.” Blushing pleasure lingers on her face as she takes a bite of sandwich.
“Erik was the first man who ever asked me to change,” Raven blurts out.
“Change?” Moira looks up.
“Back, I mean. Into myself. My real self. I love it now. I still only do it sometimes, though - I don't like Emma watching, and a lot of the time there are people around.”
“Can you do it now?” Moira asks, and Raven sees a smile creeping onto her face.
“I don't--” Raven stops herself, looks around. “Well... I suppose. There's not exactly anyone around except us.” She meets Moira's eyes, and smiles shyly. Raven feels like she might go pink.
Instead, she turns blue.
….
"My last lifetime?" Charles begins. "I had this utterly daft hair. Really, you should have seen it. Stuck straight up, and all down the sides of my face. Don't know what I was thinking." He's busily repairing the ship, soddering things and connecting cables and other incomprehensible maneuvers. Raven sits next to him, handing over tools as he asks for them. Tomorrow they storm the alien ship, but Charles doesn't seem very worried.
She giggles. "I had sideburns once. Couldn't stop rubbing at them."
"Naturally," Charles says disapprovingly. "These unshaven punks nowadays."
"Oh, come off it," Raven grins. "You only wish you had enough hair for that. I bet you want a beard, like that John Lennon."
Charles sniffs. "What a ridiculous mane. Now, the Fu Manchu -- that is a classic style. Maybe if you tempted me with one of those, we'd be in business."
"Charles!" Raven sounds revolted. "You can't mean that."
"Au contraire," Charles says lightly. "Beards can be very groovy, if you do them right."
"Good lord, you really are the same old you," Raven remarks. "How many girls did you strike out with before you realized the eye-patch was idiotic?"
"The eye-patch was ahead of its time," Charles corrects her. "I put it away because I realized how few people could truly appreciate it. And because I kept thumping into things on my left." They both chuckle.
"Were you ever tall?" Raven asks. "I like being tall."
"Oh, I don't know. Steering's harder, certainly." Charles jumps back as a few sparks fly from the circuit. "Oh, drat."
"You can always see over crowds," Raven continues. "I like that. And sometimes you're imposing."
"Who wants to be imposing, eh?" Charles glances over. "People who think it'll come down to a fight, that's who. Have a little faith, sister. Besides, when the battle is words, victory goes to the quick-witted, and the clever. Living with me should have taught you that."
Raven snorts. Charles, being the better man, politely ignores it.
….
Erik finds him not long after Raven has left, still hard at work.
“Do you ever plan to tell us what you're doing in there?” he asks, instead of a greeting.
Charles pokes his head out and waves. “Hello, Erik. Anything to report, mmm?”
“Charles,” Erik calls him back. “Can I just -” he takes a breath. Then another. Okay. Breathe.
“Are you going to ask me to stay?”
Charles steps back, turning to face Erik properly. It seems harder than usual to balance, somehow.
“Yes,” he responds. “Yes, I am.” Erik looks into his eyes for a moment and Charles is acutely aware of two heartbeats picking up speed in his chest.
“Then I will,” Erik nods. “But only if you will. There's no place for me there without you.”
Charles' mouth hangs slightly open.
“Oh,” he manages. “Well. Good. Okay then.” The back of his mind isn't sure if he's ready to agree to that just yet, but he can't deny Erik. Doesn't want to.
Erik laughs nervously and claps him on the shoulder. Then he looks into Charles' eyes and stills for a moment. Charles swallows, meeting his gaze.
Erik slowly brings up one hand to touch the side of Charles' face. He darts in and gives his mouth a short, awkward kiss.
Then Erik backs off, smiles once cursorily, and flees. The Timelord is left standing alone.
“Oh I see,” Charles says out loud to nobody.