[XMFC] Fic: in the dark of day (we will rise to burn) [Charles/Erik, PG-13] (3/?)
Title: in the dark of day (we will rise to burn)
Pairing: Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Erik Lehnsherr has been charged with the brutal murder of Sebastian Shaw. His case isn't looking very good until he meets the right lawyer. Modern AU.
Notes: Title from Gin Wigmore's New Revolution. More notes by way of background at the end of each chapter.
Chapter 3: Charles Xavier
The first thing anyone inevitably thinks upon meeting Charles Xavier - anyone who knows of his formidable reputation, in any event - is that he's shorter than you'd expect, for a man who defends alleged murderers and terrorists with such grand passion. He comes across as sweet, almost fey; all big hand gestures, wide eyes, and an enchanting openness of manner.
He only clams up once during our interview: when I mention his father, Lord Brian Xavier, made a life peer in recognition of his scientific contributions to the defence of the realm, who was recently implicated in British nuclear testing in the Pacific in the late 1950s. The Xaviers are as posh as it's possible to be without a hereditary peerage. So how does a child born in the lap of such privilege end up as a fire-breathing civil rights lawyer?
"Fire-breathing's a bit strong, isn't it? But yes, I do see your point. I suppose I simply believe in change for the better, no matter how agonisingly slow it might be. Same as all the other people who end up doing this."
There is, of course, a bit more to it than that…
Charles wasn't religiously inclined by nature, but he was open to the possibilities of prayer if it would get him out of the mountain of case notes he had to read for his inquiry appearance next week. Fortunately, the phone rang in time to save him from actual Epiphany.
His sister always did have good timing.
"Tell me you have something about Lehnsherr."
Charles found himself smiling helplessly at the dead forests piling up on his desk. "Good afternoon, Raven. I'm fine today, how are you?"
"Oh, shut up. I'm saving you time by cutting the pleasantries. You should thank me," Raven said, clearly trying - and failing - to keep the grin out of her voice.
"Actually, it's my - " (so-called) " - lunch break, so I have a little time to talk. How's that deadline looking?"
"Looming dangerously, a little like the subject of the article might have, right before he gutted the poor defenseless middle-aged white man who the red tops were all horrifed to see killed in such a manner."
Charles paused to be impressed that she managed the entire sentence in one breath, and with perfect diction, no less. Then he considered her actual words.
"You don't cover clean-cut murder cases."
"That's right, I don't. So tell me what I'm looking at."
He'd quite like to know that himself, actually. The Shaw case was all over the news, broadsheets and tabloids both, and even high-powered attorneys were not immune to intrigue.
"What makes you think I know anything?"
"Let's see. Number one, you're Charles Xavier."
Charles' grin turned crooked. "Flattering, but hardly an explanation in itself."
"You know what I mean. Number two, you know all the good barristers Emma Frost knows."
Mostly because they had either been at school together with both of them or been introduced to one by the other. Then there were the times - far too many times, by now - when Charles violated his own no-dating-inside-the-profession rule and ended up sleeping with people who'd known Emma in the biblical sense. Or vice versa, which was somehow worse.
"And a few of the bad ones. Unfortunately, none of the sad bastards fired by our murder suspect are talking, at least not in my hearing."
"Dammit. Number three, you spend a lot of time over at the pubs down by the Inns of Court. That's where all the good gossip comes from. I'd live there if I weren't too young and female to blend in."
She was only half joking, Charles knew.
"And you have lovely hair. That's what gives you away."
Raven laughed. "I bet - no, in fact, I know - that's what you tell all the girls."
"A few of the boys, too," Charles said mildly. "But not all of them take it as a compliment."
"Aw, they're just scared. Anyway. My point being: you do that revolting boys' club business called networking disturbingly well when you feel like it. And I know you're interested in the Shaw case."
Charles sighed. "You might be right about that."
"Ha! I'm always right. You could never resist anything that smells like grandstanding and a potential miscarriage of justice."
The hell of it was that Raven was spot on. Charles was old enough to own his foibles, and he'd long since decided that there were worse ones than wanting to save the world.
"As of right now, it's also none of my business. I've not been asked."
Raven snorted. "Since when did you need an invitation?"
Charles had been about to deny it - he wasn't sure how, but he was a trained advocate, he'd think of something - when his cellphone began playing incredibly obnoxious Euro-pop. Normally, he'd at least spare a thought for finally getting around to changing that fucking ring-tone, but in the circumstances...Charles grinned.
(When he pulled that particular expression on in the court room, it was known to made opposing counsel flinch.)
"Raven, I'm going to have to call you back. Don't complain, it's Emma."
"Oooh. Tell me all about it over dinner?"
"Make it drinks and you have yourself a deal. Haven't got time for a proper dinner today."
"Workaholic."
"Look who's talking."
Raven hung up without saying goodbye, as was her habit, at least on days when they would see each other later. It was their way of pretending that they still spent most of their time together - that they still had that kind of time to themselves at all.
A few deep breaths, and he was ready for the next caller.
"Good afternoon, Emma."
"Hello, Charles," Emma said warmly. Very warmly, for her, which could go either way.
"I know that voice."
"Yes, you do. You owe me."
Charles bit back a laugh with great effort. "Undoubtedly. But in this specific instance, what am I being billed for?"
Emma allowed quite a long dramatic pause.
"I know you like the hopeless cases. How would you like the ultimate hopeless case, with a side of media feeding frenzy, wrapped up in a tall, dark and possibly crazy man who believes he's doing the right thing?"
"Intriguing," Charles said, already plotting possible avenues of inquiry in his head. "Tell me more."
Notes: The article extract is based on an actual article about a famous lawyer who was one of the inspirations for this Charles.
British nuclear testing in the Pacific during the 1950s is in fact the subject of many a lawsuit right now.
Life peerages are not passed on through inheritance, but your kids do get to style themselves 'the Honourable...' So that's something.
Red tops is a slang term for British tabloids.
The Inns of Court are the professional associates for barristers in England. All barristers have to belong to one, and yes, the pubs around there (and close to the Royal Courts) are sometimes like that.
Chapter 4: Erik Lehnsherr
Pairing: Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Erik Lehnsherr has been charged with the brutal murder of Sebastian Shaw. His case isn't looking very good until he meets the right lawyer. Modern AU.
Notes: Title from Gin Wigmore's New Revolution. More notes by way of background at the end of each chapter.
Chapter 3: Charles Xavier
The first thing anyone inevitably thinks upon meeting Charles Xavier - anyone who knows of his formidable reputation, in any event - is that he's shorter than you'd expect, for a man who defends alleged murderers and terrorists with such grand passion. He comes across as sweet, almost fey; all big hand gestures, wide eyes, and an enchanting openness of manner.
He only clams up once during our interview: when I mention his father, Lord Brian Xavier, made a life peer in recognition of his scientific contributions to the defence of the realm, who was recently implicated in British nuclear testing in the Pacific in the late 1950s. The Xaviers are as posh as it's possible to be without a hereditary peerage. So how does a child born in the lap of such privilege end up as a fire-breathing civil rights lawyer?
"Fire-breathing's a bit strong, isn't it? But yes, I do see your point. I suppose I simply believe in change for the better, no matter how agonisingly slow it might be. Same as all the other people who end up doing this."
There is, of course, a bit more to it than that…
Charles wasn't religiously inclined by nature, but he was open to the possibilities of prayer if it would get him out of the mountain of case notes he had to read for his inquiry appearance next week. Fortunately, the phone rang in time to save him from actual Epiphany.
His sister always did have good timing.
"Tell me you have something about Lehnsherr."
Charles found himself smiling helplessly at the dead forests piling up on his desk. "Good afternoon, Raven. I'm fine today, how are you?"
"Oh, shut up. I'm saving you time by cutting the pleasantries. You should thank me," Raven said, clearly trying - and failing - to keep the grin out of her voice.
"Actually, it's my - " (so-called) " - lunch break, so I have a little time to talk. How's that deadline looking?"
"Looming dangerously, a little like the subject of the article might have, right before he gutted the poor defenseless middle-aged white man who the red tops were all horrifed to see killed in such a manner."
Charles paused to be impressed that she managed the entire sentence in one breath, and with perfect diction, no less. Then he considered her actual words.
"You don't cover clean-cut murder cases."
"That's right, I don't. So tell me what I'm looking at."
He'd quite like to know that himself, actually. The Shaw case was all over the news, broadsheets and tabloids both, and even high-powered attorneys were not immune to intrigue.
"What makes you think I know anything?"
"Let's see. Number one, you're Charles Xavier."
Charles' grin turned crooked. "Flattering, but hardly an explanation in itself."
"You know what I mean. Number two, you know all the good barristers Emma Frost knows."
Mostly because they had either been at school together with both of them or been introduced to one by the other. Then there were the times - far too many times, by now - when Charles violated his own no-dating-inside-the-profession rule and ended up sleeping with people who'd known Emma in the biblical sense. Or vice versa, which was somehow worse.
"And a few of the bad ones. Unfortunately, none of the sad bastards fired by our murder suspect are talking, at least not in my hearing."
"Dammit. Number three, you spend a lot of time over at the pubs down by the Inns of Court. That's where all the good gossip comes from. I'd live there if I weren't too young and female to blend in."
She was only half joking, Charles knew.
"And you have lovely hair. That's what gives you away."
Raven laughed. "I bet - no, in fact, I know - that's what you tell all the girls."
"A few of the boys, too," Charles said mildly. "But not all of them take it as a compliment."
"Aw, they're just scared. Anyway. My point being: you do that revolting boys' club business called networking disturbingly well when you feel like it. And I know you're interested in the Shaw case."
Charles sighed. "You might be right about that."
"Ha! I'm always right. You could never resist anything that smells like grandstanding and a potential miscarriage of justice."
The hell of it was that Raven was spot on. Charles was old enough to own his foibles, and he'd long since decided that there were worse ones than wanting to save the world.
"As of right now, it's also none of my business. I've not been asked."
Raven snorted. "Since when did you need an invitation?"
Charles had been about to deny it - he wasn't sure how, but he was a trained advocate, he'd think of something - when his cellphone began playing incredibly obnoxious Euro-pop. Normally, he'd at least spare a thought for finally getting around to changing that fucking ring-tone, but in the circumstances...Charles grinned.
(When he pulled that particular expression on in the court room, it was known to made opposing counsel flinch.)
"Raven, I'm going to have to call you back. Don't complain, it's Emma."
"Oooh. Tell me all about it over dinner?"
"Make it drinks and you have yourself a deal. Haven't got time for a proper dinner today."
"Workaholic."
"Look who's talking."
Raven hung up without saying goodbye, as was her habit, at least on days when they would see each other later. It was their way of pretending that they still spent most of their time together - that they still had that kind of time to themselves at all.
A few deep breaths, and he was ready for the next caller.
"Good afternoon, Emma."
"Hello, Charles," Emma said warmly. Very warmly, for her, which could go either way.
"I know that voice."
"Yes, you do. You owe me."
Charles bit back a laugh with great effort. "Undoubtedly. But in this specific instance, what am I being billed for?"
Emma allowed quite a long dramatic pause.
"I know you like the hopeless cases. How would you like the ultimate hopeless case, with a side of media feeding frenzy, wrapped up in a tall, dark and possibly crazy man who believes he's doing the right thing?"
"Intriguing," Charles said, already plotting possible avenues of inquiry in his head. "Tell me more."
Notes: The article extract is based on an actual article about a famous lawyer who was one of the inspirations for this Charles.
British nuclear testing in the Pacific during the 1950s is in fact the subject of many a lawsuit right now.
Life peerages are not passed on through inheritance, but your kids do get to style themselves 'the Honourable...' So that's something.
Red tops is a slang term for British tabloids.
The Inns of Court are the professional associates for barristers in England. All barristers have to belong to one, and yes, the pubs around there (and close to the Royal Courts) are sometimes like that.
Chapter 4: Erik Lehnsherr