Fill: Erik/Charles, Wesley 4/4
anonymous
September 23 2012, 06:12:49 UTC
The idea that Wesley was here to kill him seemed absurd. Charles couldn’t even fathom the implications, the decisions they would both have to make in the next hours or minutes or seconds. He only knew that he was wounded to the core that Wesley would ever even-but Wesley was still holding his gaze, steady and sure, and Charles knew he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.
“Erik?” he tried, his throat catching on the syllables. It made perfect sense. Charles knew what Erik was capable of, knew his darkest plans and desires, but he’d never let himself really consider them a threat because in all his versions of the future, he was there to stop Erik, to change his mind.
“I’m sorry,” Wesley said, grabbing for Charles’ hand again.
Staring down at their hands, Charles swallowed. “No,” he said. “You can’t. I promise I’ll be there. I’ll stop him from doing anything that would hurt anyone. You can’t kill him.”
Wesley sighed. “I don’t doubt that you believe that, but I can’t risk your name coming up after you get in over your fucking head with this dick. I don’t question these things, Charlie. I have to do this now, while there’s still time left.”
They sat in silence for another moment before Wesley said, “I almost did it earlier, when you two were leaving that bar. It would have been so fucking easy. My thing with time could probably even stop his powers from interfering. But then I saw you and you were so goddamn happy. I had to give you some warning.” He stood up and dropped a few bills on the table. “Don’t make me regret it.”
x
Wesley was a little surprised that Charles didn’t stop him in the bar, didn’t force him to change his mind like they both knew he could. He wasn’t surprised, however, to find Charles and Erik gone the next morning, in the wind without a trace. It hurt that Charles had left him, hadn’t trusted him, but he could understand. With the way the two of them were around each other, he could even forgive Charles for it.
He would just have to find them again. This wasn’t the first time he’d lost a target, but it was somehow more difficult to find them again when they had the government and a telepath on their side. But that just made it all the more surprising when Charles resurfaced a month later at a hospital in Miami.
Looking down at his brother’s prone form on the hospital bed filled him with rage. Rage at himself for not taking the shot when he could, rage at Charles for running away, rage at Erik fucking Lehnsherr for sticking a bullet in Charles’ back.
It was easy, then, to pack up his guns and his knives and hit the road hunting. This time, he wouldn’t hesitate.
“Erik?” he tried, his throat catching on the syllables. It made perfect sense. Charles knew what Erik was capable of, knew his darkest plans and desires, but he’d never let himself really consider them a threat because in all his versions of the future, he was there to stop Erik, to change his mind.
“I’m sorry,” Wesley said, grabbing for Charles’ hand again.
Staring down at their hands, Charles swallowed. “No,” he said. “You can’t. I promise I’ll be there. I’ll stop him from doing anything that would hurt anyone. You can’t kill him.”
Wesley sighed. “I don’t doubt that you believe that, but I can’t risk your name coming up after you get in over your fucking head with this dick. I don’t question these things, Charlie. I have to do this now, while there’s still time left.”
They sat in silence for another moment before Wesley said, “I almost did it earlier, when you two were leaving that bar. It would have been so fucking easy. My thing with time could probably even stop his powers from interfering. But then I saw you and you were so goddamn happy. I had to give you some warning.” He stood up and dropped a few bills on the table. “Don’t make me regret it.”
x
Wesley was a little surprised that Charles didn’t stop him in the bar, didn’t force him to change his mind like they both knew he could. He wasn’t surprised, however, to find Charles and Erik gone the next morning, in the wind without a trace. It hurt that Charles had left him, hadn’t trusted him, but he could understand. With the way the two of them were around each other, he could even forgive Charles for it.
He would just have to find them again. This wasn’t the first time he’d lost a target, but it was somehow more difficult to find them again when they had the government and a telepath on their side. But that just made it all the more surprising when Charles resurfaced a month later at a hospital in Miami.
Looking down at his brother’s prone form on the hospital bed filled him with rage. Rage at himself for not taking the shot when he could, rage at Charles for running away, rage at Erik fucking Lehnsherr for sticking a bullet in Charles’ back.
It was easy, then, to pack up his guns and his knives and hit the road hunting. This time, he wouldn’t hesitate.
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