: Fill: If You Wish for Peace 2/5ish (Warnings: death/violence)
anonymous
June 29 2011, 04:54:48 UTC
There was a girl against the wall, and she looked dead. The girl looked to be a little older than him, but not by much. Her hair was wet and matted against her forehead, she had no shoes. Charles was not a physician, but he could tell that she was freshly dead. In a few hours, she would start to smell.
He reached for her hand. It was cold and limp.
Charles heard something move behind him. He wasn’t quite sure how it got there, but there was a sharp blade resting perilously close to his neck.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” growled a voice behind him. The voice grated Charles’ ears because it was so young.
I was supposed to protect her! I couldn’t! I was weak and I was stupid and Magda --
Charles held up both of his hands, “Magda was very sick. Even if you could have prevented her from getting killed, she would have died anyway.”
The knife pressed harder against his skin, “How do you know?”
He swallowed, “My father’s a doctor.”
“How did you know,” the voice repeated, “that her name is Magda?” The knife was shaking like the voice. It sounded younger and younger.
“Because I am like you,” Charles said. “Please put the knife down, Erik. I mean her no harm.”
The knife dropped with a loud clang. Charles turned around. Erik Lehnsherr was Polish and he’d seen his mother die, he’d seen many people die. And none of the deaths were peaceful. Erik looked only slightly older than him and he had a bad limp in his left foot.
“What’s your name?”
“Charles Xavier,” Charles would have offered his hand, but a handshake seemed out of place. “How long have you had that limp?”
Four days,
“Four days is a very long time, would you like me to look at it? Maybe I can help you.”
“Stop doing that,” Erik snapped.
Get out of my head. You don’t want to see anything that I have seen.
“I’m sorry,” said Charles. “I won’t do it anymore. But your leg might get worse. Were you shot?”
Erik shrugged, “I removed the bullet, it hardly hurts.” But his teeth were clenched together as he spoke. Of course it hurt. “I’m not leaving Magda.”
“Are you going to stay with her until you’re killed too, then?” His voice was too sharp. Charles was immediately sorry. The knife near his foot twitched.
Erik was silent.
“Let me look at your leg,” Charles pleaded with him. “There is a hospital nearby, if we sneak her onto one of the beds, they’ll bury her properly. She won’t have to rot in a sewer.”
“If you lie to me, I will kill you,” said Erik. Charles knew he meant it, too. He waited until the other boy had picked up Magda.
“Follow me.”
--
Charles spotted an empty bed by the window, he walked quickly to it. The bed’s never stayed empty for long.
“Tell her goodbye, Erik. You must.”
Erik put her down on the bed and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. He did a strange gesture that Charles didn’t recognize, but found beautiful nonetheless.
“Come on, this way.”
It was easy to get supplies because they all knew him. Brian Xavier’s son was going to become a great man someday. He knew so much. He took an almost empty roll of white linen and hid it under his coat.
Erik followed him home. He stood in silence as Charles heated up a pot of hot water and dipped a towel in it. Then he sat, and rolled up his pant leg. The wound made Charles slightly sick, but he didn’t look away.
“This is going to hurt.”
The pot dented. Only slightly.
“...Why are you helping me?”
“Because,” Charles went to turn off the stove. There was still some hard bread left. He broke off a generous piece and handed it to Erik. “I help everyone. It brings them peace.”
“We’re in a time of war,” said Erik. “If you keep thinking about peace, there will never be peace. You must think about war, Charles. Don’t be stupid. I bet you’ve never killed anyone.”
Charles winced, “That’s not what my father says, and of course I haven’t killed anyone.”
“Your father is an idiot,” said Erik as he ripped off a large bite of the bread.
He reached for her hand. It was cold and limp.
Charles heard something move behind him. He wasn’t quite sure how it got there, but there was a sharp blade resting perilously close to his neck.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” growled a voice behind him. The voice grated Charles’ ears because it was so young.
I was supposed to protect her! I couldn’t! I was weak and I was stupid and Magda --
Charles held up both of his hands, “Magda was very sick. Even if you could have prevented her from getting killed, she would have died anyway.”
The knife pressed harder against his skin, “How do you know?”
He swallowed, “My father’s a doctor.”
“How did you know,” the voice repeated, “that her name is Magda?” The knife was shaking like the voice. It sounded younger and younger.
“Because I am like you,” Charles said. “Please put the knife down, Erik. I mean her no harm.”
The knife dropped with a loud clang. Charles turned around. Erik Lehnsherr was Polish and he’d seen his mother die, he’d seen many people die. And none of the deaths were peaceful. Erik looked only slightly older than him and he had a bad limp in his left foot.
“What’s your name?”
“Charles Xavier,” Charles would have offered his hand, but a handshake seemed out of place. “How long have you had that limp?”
Four days,
“Four days is a very long time, would you like me to look at it? Maybe I can help you.”
“Stop doing that,” Erik snapped.
Get out of my head. You don’t want to see anything that I have seen.
“I’m sorry,” said Charles. “I won’t do it anymore. But your leg might get worse. Were you shot?”
Erik shrugged, “I removed the bullet, it hardly hurts.” But his teeth were clenched together as he spoke. Of course it hurt. “I’m not leaving Magda.”
“Are you going to stay with her until you’re killed too, then?” His voice was too sharp. Charles was immediately sorry. The knife near his foot twitched.
Erik was silent.
“Let me look at your leg,” Charles pleaded with him. “There is a hospital nearby, if we sneak her onto one of the beds, they’ll bury her properly. She won’t have to rot in a sewer.”
“If you lie to me, I will kill you,” said Erik. Charles knew he meant it, too. He waited until the other boy had picked up Magda.
“Follow me.”
--
Charles spotted an empty bed by the window, he walked quickly to it. The bed’s never stayed empty for long.
“Tell her goodbye, Erik. You must.”
Erik put her down on the bed and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. He did a strange gesture that Charles didn’t recognize, but found beautiful nonetheless.
“Come on, this way.”
It was easy to get supplies because they all knew him. Brian Xavier’s son was going to become a great man someday. He knew so much. He took an almost empty roll of white linen and hid it under his coat.
Erik followed him home. He stood in silence as Charles heated up a pot of hot water and dipped a towel in it. Then he sat, and rolled up his pant leg. The wound made Charles slightly sick, but he didn’t look away.
“This is going to hurt.”
The pot dented. Only slightly.
“...Why are you helping me?”
“Because,” Charles went to turn off the stove. There was still some hard bread left. He broke off a generous piece and handed it to Erik. “I help everyone. It brings them peace.”
“We’re in a time of war,” said Erik. “If you keep thinking about peace, there will never be peace. You must think about war, Charles. Don’t be stupid. I bet you’ve never killed anyone.”
Charles winced, “That’s not what my father says, and of course I haven’t killed anyone.”
“Your father is an idiot,” said Erik as he ripped off a large bite of the bread.
--
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