X-Men: Meeting of Minds (Charles/Erik | K | 500w)
[ Charles/Erik | K | 500w | 2007-03-12 | Mirror ]
Movieverse. A tentative meeting of minds, post-X2.
(Written for slashfest, per ladysorka’s request.)
Meeting of Minds
“Poking around again, Charles?” Erik says to the empty room, looking up. He knows, rationally, that Charles can’t see him, that he won’t be able to recognize the smile that’s playing on Erik’s lips. Though, if he’s snuck in deep enough, he’ll feel it. The man has been on both sides of the smile enough times to recognize it from the inside out.
A rather unpleasant term for it, old friend. You know that my concern for you never wavers. Say the word, and I will leave. Charles’s voice sounds so close, as if it’s being whispered right at the edge of his ear; Erik can almost feel the softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath. His skin, even after all these years, refuses to forget.
You put me in there, Charles. You put me at Stryker’s mercy. Erik wills the door closed, but stops speaking aloud because he knows that, even with three feet of metal between him and the outside world, sometimes his compatriots’ ears are too sensitive for their own good. You saw how I fared. He meant the words to be light, but they come out bitterly ironic.
And you know there isn’t a moment I don’t regret it.
Erik closes his eyes. He does. Just as he knows that Charles never could lie to him. Even when he knew that Erik was lying.
I hate to say it, he let Charles guide his hand onto his chest-he always did have a penchant for placing his ear on Erik’s heartbeat. But you’ve done well with them, Charles. I can see that now.
Charles smiles. It’s all I ever wanted for us.
But wasn’t that the problem? I wanted more.
You’re right. It is folly to dwell in the past. Erik hates himself for saying it; hates that the light of Charles’s smile dimming in his mind. And just as much as he can’t forget the pleasure of Charles’s touch, he can never forget the disappointment that still threads through his voice.
You are doing well, then? Charles asks, a last offering, already withdrawing, fading.
As well as I ever am, Erik sighs, letting his hand fall back into his lap. Before Charles is completely gone, he calls him back.
And you, Charles? Still as hopeful about the world as ever?
Perhaps not. But I won’t give up on them, Erik.
Charles is gone, and leaves the last of it unsaid. He hasn’t repeated the promise he made to Erik in all the years since, but then again, he hasn’t had to-he lives it, even now. Pain nor suffering nor sorrow has stopped Charles in his lifelong commitment to what he believes in.
Erik thinks that no matter how many times he tells Charles no, the man won’t listen. That he’ll still believe.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he tells the empty room, and it’s some hours before he’s comfortable in the spaciousness, the emptiness, of his lone mind once more.
Movieverse. A tentative meeting of minds, post-X2.
(Written for slashfest, per ladysorka’s request.)
Meeting of Minds
“Poking around again, Charles?” Erik says to the empty room, looking up. He knows, rationally, that Charles can’t see him, that he won’t be able to recognize the smile that’s playing on Erik’s lips. Though, if he’s snuck in deep enough, he’ll feel it. The man has been on both sides of the smile enough times to recognize it from the inside out.
A rather unpleasant term for it, old friend. You know that my concern for you never wavers. Say the word, and I will leave. Charles’s voice sounds so close, as if it’s being whispered right at the edge of his ear; Erik can almost feel the softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath. His skin, even after all these years, refuses to forget.
You put me in there, Charles. You put me at Stryker’s mercy. Erik wills the door closed, but stops speaking aloud because he knows that, even with three feet of metal between him and the outside world, sometimes his compatriots’ ears are too sensitive for their own good. You saw how I fared. He meant the words to be light, but they come out bitterly ironic.
And you know there isn’t a moment I don’t regret it.
Erik closes his eyes. He does. Just as he knows that Charles never could lie to him. Even when he knew that Erik was lying.
I hate to say it, he let Charles guide his hand onto his chest-he always did have a penchant for placing his ear on Erik’s heartbeat. But you’ve done well with them, Charles. I can see that now.
Charles smiles. It’s all I ever wanted for us.
But wasn’t that the problem? I wanted more.
You’re right. It is folly to dwell in the past. Erik hates himself for saying it; hates that the light of Charles’s smile dimming in his mind. And just as much as he can’t forget the pleasure of Charles’s touch, he can never forget the disappointment that still threads through his voice.
You are doing well, then? Charles asks, a last offering, already withdrawing, fading.
As well as I ever am, Erik sighs, letting his hand fall back into his lap. Before Charles is completely gone, he calls him back.
And you, Charles? Still as hopeful about the world as ever?
Perhaps not. But I won’t give up on them, Erik.
Charles is gone, and leaves the last of it unsaid. He hasn’t repeated the promise he made to Erik in all the years since, but then again, he hasn’t had to-he lives it, even now. Pain nor suffering nor sorrow has stopped Charles in his lifelong commitment to what he believes in.
Erik thinks that no matter how many times he tells Charles no, the man won’t listen. That he’ll still believe.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he tells the empty room, and it’s some hours before he’s comfortable in the spaciousness, the emptiness, of his lone mind once more.