Fic: Let Freedom Ring 6/19
Title Let Freedom Ring 6/19
Fandom X-Men: First Class
Pairings Erik/Charles, past Erik/Raven, mention of Hank/Raven, sort of brief Raven/Angel, references to future Scott/Jean
Beta cicero_drayon
Word count of chapters 4972
Word count of entire fic approx. 115 000
Ratings/warnings NC-17. Sexual situations, past physical and mental trauma, discussion of genocide, period transphobia, homophobia, ableism and racism, brief mentions of rape and suicide
Spoilers X-Men: First Class, X2 and (to a lesser extent) X-Men: The Last Stand. Some comic canon thrown in for good measure.
Disclaimer Marvel owns it, I don’t.
Summary Two arrivals to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters coincide - Jason Stryker, a child branded a freak because of his psychic powers, and Erik Lehnsherr, wanted terrorist and old friend of the professor. Jason is there as his father wants him cured - Erik claims that he has gone rogue from his own renegades. As tensions rise between mutants and humans, as well as between the suddenly reunited friends, who can truly be trusted?
Author’s notes I seem to keep referring to German expressionists in this fic - if you don’t know Egon Shiele, this is well worth having a look at.
‘Hey, Ororo, wake up.’
Something was poking Ororo’s shoulder, hard enough for it to wake her. She turned to her other side, hazily trying to get away from whatever it was. The poking stopped, and instead, a pair of hands took hold of her and shook her.
‘Ororo, it’s stopped hailing!’ She gave in and opened one eye. As soon as she could tell who was sitting on her bed, she buried her face in the pillow and said:
‘Jason, go away.’
‘No,’ said the resolute voice. ‘Wake up, or I’ll put you into a little box - so small that you can’t move or breathe.’ With sudden force, she sat up and stared at him.
‘I’d strike you first. With lightning.’
‘You wouldn’t be fast enough,’ Jason answered and smiled, a small peace offering. ‘I’ve learned your name and everything - you should talk to me.’ Drawing her knees close to her body, feeling that otherwise she might fall backwards and go to sleep again, Ororo looked around to make sure that none of the other girls had been woken. Just in case, she put her finger to her lips, and Jason imitated her. Shuffling closer, he whispered: ‘How did you make it hail?’
She shrugged.
‘I didn’t want to do sports, so I called the hail. It’s a kind of magic.’
‘It’s not magic - it’s just genes,’ Jason answered. ‘The professor explained it to me.’
‘Perhaps magic can be in the genes as well, then,’ Ororo retorted. She wanted to tell him to go back his own dorm so that she could go to sleep again, but perhaps Jason would put her in a box if she did that. She wondered who had told him that she was afraid of such things.
‘But you can make any weather?’
‘Mostly bad weather,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t call the sunshine.’ Jason seemed to think about it.
‘Would you make me some weather, if I made you something?’ Ororo hesitated, looking at him.
‘Do you want me to make something dangerous?’ she asked.
‘No, not really,’ Jason answered. ‘Come on, I’ll make you a world if you do it.’
‘What kind of world?’ Ororo wondered sceptically. Jason shrugged.
‘What kind would you like?’
***
The first thing Charles was aware of when he woke up was the unpleasant taste in his mouth. Still half-asleep, he thought that he must have forgot to brush his teeth the previous evening. Then he snapped awake, aware that he was not alone in the room. The space beside him in the bed empty; Erik was standing beside the window, so that he could look out of it but he would not be seen. He had made no attempt at modesty, but was still completely naked, his bare skin shimmering in the oddly white light from outside. His bony chest and his uncompromising nakedness reminded Charles of an Egon Shiele nude, something about that light giving the apparition an expressionistic feel, while at the same time, it put him in mind of what they had done, and what else they might do.
‘How long have you been awake?’ Charles said as he pushed himself up in a sitting position and propped himself against the bed-board. Erik looked his way and smiled.
‘A couple of hours.’
‘Hours?’ he replied. ‘And you’re still here? Still... naked?’
‘I didn’t want to leave,’ Erik answered simply, his voice still hushed. Now he left his perch at the window and slipped under the sheets again. When he settled, he pressed close to kiss his shoulder and draw a hand over his bare chest. Charles kissed his forehead in response.
‘Did I wake you?’ he asked. ‘Did I thrash?’
‘No, not at all,’ Erik said and leaned in to kiss his collar-bones tenderly. ‘I don’t sleep much. I was afraid to wake you if I stayed in bed.’ Now he straightened up and looked him full in the face.
‘I wouldn’t have complained,’ Charles said quietly. The last syllable disappeared as Erik leaned in and kissed him. The kiss tasted of morning, but the physicality of it was welcome. When they pulled apart, Erik looked away, and a secretive smile spread over his lips. ‘What are you thinking?’ Charles asked and stroked his hair. The smile grew a little at the absurdity of such a question coming from a telepath, but then he looked up. There was something profound in his eyes, and under that gaze, Charles found himself tongue-tied. Erik remained silent for a few more seconds, savouring the tranquility of the moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, as if he did not want to ruin that calmness.
‘Most days, I do not know why I am alive. As if I have tricked fate by escaping my appointed time, and I now exist between living and dying, without any claim on either state, and anything I do is a way to distract myself from the chimera of my existence.’ He paused and reached to stroke Charles’ face. In his touch, Charles could sense the bubbling sense of wonder in him. Yet again he smiled. ‘Today is not such a day.’ He smiled back and pulled Erik into an embrace. He did not attempt to speak, because there were no words in any language he knew which could express the humbling gratitude he felt at giving him purpose.
At length, the embrace shifted, and Charles rested his head against Erik’s chest. The beat of his heart almost lulled him to sleep, but feeling his fingers comb through his hair and ghost over his neck made him want to stay awake.
‘The light’s odd,’ Charles said finally, watching the bright rays flooding in through the window.
‘Ororo hasn’t been idle,’ Erik simply said and sought his lips. They kissed, and then Charles said, half to himself:
‘Where’s my dressing-gown?’
‘I think it’s on the floor,’ Erik answered, gesturing to the side closer to Charles. With a half-apologetic smile, he disentangled their limbs and pushed himself away. He fished the dressing-gown up from the floor and pushed himself up on one arm, when he felt a hand on his back. He stayed still, waiting, as Erik came closer until his breath played upon his shoulder.
‘Is this...?’ His fingers traced his spine downwards, passing the point where he stopped feeling. Charles knew that he had followed the scar running down his back.
‘From the surgery,’ he explained. ‘The bullet itself didn’t break the skin.’ Erik’s hand withdrew, and for a moment they were separated, until he put his arms around him and pressed him close.
‘I am sorry,’ he whispered, emotion in his voice. Charles turned his head to catch a glimpse of him.
‘Don’t say that.’ He did not want Erik to feel guilty, and most of all he did not want him to start treating him like an invalid, like so many others did. He wanted to say, it doesn’t matter, but that was not true. If he had the choice, of course he would want to be whole and able. There were so many things he wished he could do, and this new-found intimacy with Erik multiplied those wishes. But if Erik started pitying him, he would be so much more aware of how inadequate he was to him. He needed to stay away from those thoughts at any cost, lest they overpower him.
‘Promise me something, Erik,’ he said and turned around so that they faced each other.
‘Anything.’
‘Never patronise me,’ Charles said. ‘I get enough of that from Hank and the others.’ Erik smiled mirthlessly, but nodded.
‘You do know how much they care for you, don’t you?’ he then said.
‘Of course,’ Charles said. He felt it every time they were close. ‘But it doesn’t make the pity any easier to bear.’ Then, feeling that they had spent enough time on such questions, he took hold of his chin and pulled him into a kiss. Erik kissed back eagerly, and when their lips parted, the contented look was back on his face.
‘I promise.’
‘Thank you,’ Charles said with a genuine smile. As he put on the dressing-gown, he realised that the wheelchair was on the other side of the room, where they had left it last night. ‘Erik, would you mind?’ At a commanding flick of Erik’s hand, the chair rolled towards then and when it stopped at the bedside, Charles maneuvered himself into it. As he drew his legs after him and put each foot on the footrests, he picked up Erik’s thoughts. He had expected him, despite what he had just promised, to reflect on his own guilt and Charles’ weakness, but instead, he felt respect, as well as feeling somewhat impressed, relieved that Charles’ stubbornness was intact. He could have asked me to lift him, but still he does it himself. ‘I’ve been doing this for the past two years,’ he said and smiled at him. ‘I don’t even have to think about it anymore.’
‘Listening in, are you?’ Erik asked, but smiled back.
‘I’m sorry - I was curious,’ Charles admitted and arranged his dressing-gown to achieve some degree of modesty. Erik half-sat, half-sprawled on the bed, completely unashamed at not wearing a stitch. For a brief moment, he considered telling him outright how beautiful he found him, every sharp bone, every scar, every quirk of his mien. Then he collected himself instead and crossed to the window.
Overnight, the grounds had turned white. It was just about possible to see the invisible line where the artificial winter ceased and autumn remained, but until that point, the lawns were covered in a thick snow blanket.
‘Snow,’ he said and laughed in wonder. ‘In October! That girl is amazing.’
‘It’ll be cold outside,’ Erik said. ‘You should come back to bed.’
‘What’s the time?’ He rolled onto his stomach and reached for the alarm clock.
‘Quarter to eight.’
‘Quarter to?’ Charles repeated, snapping awake properly. ‘We should have been down at breakfast ages ago. Erik, put something on. You need to get back to your room.’ As he spoke, he drew the curtains, and passed to the wardrobe. When he had retrieved a shirt and waistcoat from it, he paused and watched Erik, who had left the bed and was picking his clothes off the floor. Quickly he replaced each piece of clothing which he had shed the previous evening. When he was decently dressed and had straightened his tie, he crossed to him and leaned down to kiss him. Charles craned his neck and beat him to it. Finally, thought Erik. Why did we wait so long to do this? This is how it should always have been. When he drew back, leaving Charles’ lips feeling raw, they smiled at each other, and Erik said:
‘You should take a look in the mirror.’ Patting him on the shoulder, he turned and left. When Charles entered the bathroom and followed his advice, he understood what Erik had meant.
***
The purple-and-red love bite on Charles’ neck proved impossible to hide completely without a complete rethinking of his wardrobe - suddenly the advantage of turtlenecks seemed obvious. His attempts to cover it up simply with his collar were mostly unsuccessful, and when he came down for breakfast, both Hank and Alex’s eyes seemed to grow.
‘Have you been attacked by a... wild dog?’ Alex asked, too astounded to manage proper sarcasm.
‘Or a vacuum cleaner,’ Hank suggested, looking as if his eyes would pop out of their sockets. They were both frantically trying to figure out how the professor had managed to smuggle a mistress into the house.
‘Beautiful weather, isn’t it?’ Charles just said cheerfully as he settled in the empty space by the table and started pouring his tea. ‘We’ll have to make sure the children are properly bundled up - it seems quite cold. Remind me to tell Sean where mine and Raven’s old clothes are kept.’
Just then, the door opened and Erik rushed in, dressed in fresh clothes.
‘Someone took a lie-in,’ Alex muttered into his coffee. Erik did not heed him, only sat down and glanced at Charles.
‘Keeping the children inside today will be impossible,’ he said.
‘Well, we’ll have to give them some extra time off,’ Charles answered brightly. ‘There’s really nothing like playing in the snow. Would you care for some tomatoes, Erik? Eggs?’ Erik accepted the plate and looked him in the eye for a moment. Charles smiled back at him and then looked away, hoping the way he felt his cheeks flushing was not too telling.
***
The morning classes all finished early, and the children were allowed out into the snow. Sean had spent the morning looking through boxes in the attic and had found enough bobble-hats, gloves and scarves to go around. Charles had retrieved his winter coat and a cap, as well as his old college scarf. The shade of blue in the scarf, made rather worse by the pink-and-grey lines, clashed with the blue of his suit, but it would keep him warm and, possibly more importantly, hide the hickey. Perhaps it would keep at least the children from speculating.
As soon as he came outside, the cacophony of the playing students struck him. A snowball fight was being fought on the big lawn, and a little way away a few children were building a snowman. His progress down the path was much slower than usual. Several inches of snow had fallen overnight, and even if the paths had been stepped up, they were slippery and unpredictable. There had only been a few weeks of snow the previous winter, so he was not very used to it in his current condition. Inevitably, he had not ventured outside as much as he did in other weathers. He knew the children worried that he might do himself an injury, and Hank was terrified that he might catch cold, considering how easily it could turn into pneumonia. Their fretting occasionally made the challenge of going outside not feel worth it, which was a shame, because he had always loved the snow. He had fond memories of having snowball-fights with Raven when they were children, and now he felt rather perturbed by his inability to join in.
It was among the children with the snowman he spotted the child he had been looking for, the white hair sticking out from under the red bobble-hat unmistakable. Forming a funnel with his hands which he put to his mouth, he shouted:
‘Ororo!’ The little shape turned around and when she saw him waving at her, she turned to the others, probably to make her excuses, and then ran through the snow. When she approached, she dropped into a walk, looking rather shamefaced.
‘I’m sorry, professor,’ she said. ‘I can explain.’
‘Don’t apologise, Ororo,’ he said and waved her to his side. ‘Walk with me.’ When they were out of earshot, he asked: ‘So, you’re making a snowman?’
‘It’s not a snowman,’ she explained, sounding just as aloof as only a twelve-year-old could. ‘It’s a snow-Beast.’ Charles laughed, his eyes on the ground just in front of him.
‘Are you going to give it glasses?’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, not sounding certain. ‘You don’t think Doctor McCoy would mind?’
‘Oh, he’ll be delighted,’ he assured her. ‘Now, tell me about the snow.’ She sighed, obviously feeling rather stupid.
‘It was a deal,’ she explained. ‘Jason asked me to do it.’
‘Oh?’
‘He said he’d make a world for me if I did.’ Now, Charles stopped and turned to look at her.
‘And did he?’ She nodded.
‘He let me tell him what to make and everything.’
‘How nice of him,’ he said, hiding his surprise. ‘How... was it?’
‘Wonderful,’ Ororo confessed.
‘So you and Jason are friends?’ She shrugged, thinking that she was not certain. Nevertheless, Charles reflected, Jason obviously spoke to her in a way he did not do to the teachers, at least not to him. That was a good sign.
‘Sort of.’
‘Well, let me tell you, Ororo, that sort of friends often become proper friends,’ he told her. ‘And they’re always good to have around.’ She nodded gratefully. ‘What did you ask for?’ She thought the answer before saying it.
‘Home,’ she admitted. Charles smiled at her.
‘Kenya?’ She nodded, and in her mind he saw the illusion Jason had made for her of a majestic oasis, dreamt up by the Cairo urchin from patches of stories she remembered her parents, dead in the Suez war. It was a home she had never known, but still she felt a tug to go there.
‘Was it wrong of me?’ she whispered.
‘Of course not,’ Charles assured her. Sensing that the situation required some paternal kindness, he put a hand on her shoulder and made her look at him. ‘You’re so far away from the place you grew up. There’s no shame in longing.’
‘I prefer this,’ she admitted and looked up at the mansion. He followed her glance, and something of the blindness to his own home disappeared, making his realise what he great place it was.
‘It’s possible to have more than one home,’ he told her. ‘You don’t have to give up anything.’ She hesitated, and then nodded.
‘Okay. Thank you, Professor.’
‘Good,’ he said and let go of her shoulder. ‘Come on, I want your help with something.’
They went the rest of the way to the rose-garden in silence. The snow weighed down the bushes, but here and there, a flower peeked out, adding a speck of colour in the whiteness. Ororo looked around, delighted. The students tended not to come into the rose garden; even if it was not enclosed, they understood the implicit decision that it was the professor’s own.
‘I’m a little worried for them,’ Charles explained and reached out to cup a yellow rose in his hand. The snow-flakes sparkled and melted at his touch. ‘I don’t think the cold is good for them. So, would you make this spot a little less cold? If you like, leave the rest of the grounds. People are having a lot of fun, and the usual climate will break through eventually. Could you do that?’ Ororo nodded and took a few steps away, so that she stood in the middle of the small garden. Her concentration was visible on her face as she focused and then, summoning her powers, she shouted:
‘I command the tropical winds - heat this place!’ The cold air started moving and swirled around them, and the snow melted from the flowers. As quickly as it had come, it disappeared, and Ororo’s arms fell.
‘Wonderful,’ Charles said, looking around. Now it looked simply like the garden had had some rain. At the point where the roots of the bushes stopped, the snow started again. ‘You’re getting very good at controlling your range.’ She shrugged, looking away. Charles took the opportunity to break off a white rose from a nearby bush. Offering it to her, he said: ‘Thank you, Ororo.’ Her face, usually so controlled, split into a delighted smile as she accepted it. She put her nose into it and inhaled, closing her eyes in pleasure. ‘Let’s put it in some water, and then you can go back to working on your snow-Beast,’ he told her and wheeled out of the garden. She walked beside him, still looking at the rose, cupped in her hands.
‘No-one’s ever given me a flower before,’ she said, still smiling.
‘All in good time, Ororo - you’re still young,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You can never rush the proper flower-deliveries. But they’ll come - I can promise you that.’ As he spoke, he pushed the wheels of his chair around, but he was so concerned with assuring his student that he did not register what was happening before one wheel hit an icy spot and turned too much. The chair swung around violently and hit the stone-edge of the path. Finding no time to react, Charles was flung out of the chair from the impact. Ororo shouted at the top of her voice as he landed, his face in the snow.
‘Help! Professor! Help!’ Feeling dazed, Charles shook snow out of his hair. ‘Professor, are you alright?’ She had run up to him and was crouching in the snow at his side, the white rose still in her grip.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said and laughed, for want of something else to do. ‘Goodness. How careless of me.’ He looked back, assessing the situation. He had flown a rather long way, far enough that he had not hit the stone-edge himself, which was good. Any injury to his legs may be painless, but it would not heal properly. Now that he was certain that there was no danger, he pushed himself up on one elbow and, thinking that he might as well take the opportunity, gathered some snow together to make a snowball. Ororo chewed her lip, still looking worried.
‘Professor!’ Looking up, Charles caught sight of Alex and Hank running towards them. Alex was being held back by the snow, while Hank had given up his usual attempts to stay on two legs and was bounding forward on all fours at incredible speed. When he reached them, he promptly picked Charles up, as easily as if he had been a small child.
‘Are you hurt, professor?’ he said urgently.
‘I’m fine,’ Charles answered as he was put down in the wheelchair. ‘There was just an icy spot which I didn’t notice...’ Hank bristled, both figuratively and literarily.
‘You need to be careful, professor,’ he barked. ‘If you hurt yourself...’
‘Yes, yes, Hank, I know,’ Charles sighed. Alex reached them now, and before he had time to start fretting too, Charles threw the snowball he had made at him. Alex looked equally surprised and angry, but did not do anything, perhaps feeling that throwing snow at a cripple, particularly one who had just fallen out of his wheelchair, was not done. Hank muttered something about “childish” and started pushing the chair back towards the house. Charles looked past him and waved at Ororo, who waved back and, shielding the flower in her hand, went the other way.
***
Charles had just finished pulling on a dry jumper when the door to his room was pushed open and Erik rushed in, looking alarmed. When he saw the professor, he stopped and sighed with relief.
‘They told me you’d had a fall,’ he explained, trying to compose himself.
‘Oh, I took a tumble,’ Charles explained with a shrug. ‘It was rather fun, actually. I got the opportunity to throw a snowball at Alex. No harm done.’ Erik opened his mouth, as if to argue, but he added: ‘Hank insisted on looking me over, and all he prescribed me was a hot bath, a cup of cocoa and a set of dry clothes.’
‘I’m glad that someone’s sensible around here,’ Erik concluded and crossed to him, pressing a kiss onto his cheek before moving the armchair so that it faced him. Instead of sitting down in it, he rested his shoulder in Charles’ lap, his head propped against his chest, and had his legs against the back of the armchair.
‘Is that really comfortable?’ Charles asked as he stroked his hair.
‘It serves its purpose,’ Erik answered and was awarded a kiss on the head.
‘Hank was discrete enough not to ask about the origin of the bite-mark on my shoulder,’ Charles told him, a little more gravely.
‘Hm. What does he think is the reason?’ Erik asked. ‘I assume you know.’
‘Well, he doesn’t suspect,’ Charles said as he continued playing with the other man’s hair. ‘He assumes it’s a woman, of course. I must admit I’m a little insulted by the fact that he considered if it were Susanna.’
‘Susanna Gardiner?’ Erik scoffed. ‘A good girl like her doesn’t bite.’
‘Hank isn’t very well-versed in matters of love, Erik,’ Charles reminded him. ‘He rejected it, of course, but that the thought passed his mind... Do I come across as someone who’d seduce my students?’ Erik tipped his head back to look at him.
‘Of course you don’t. Although I assume that you can be friendlier to them than we can.’
‘By virtue of being a cripple, you mean.’
‘Because they don’t perceive you as a threat,’ Erik clarified. ‘I’m certain Beast doesn’t think you’d have your evil way with a fifteen-year old.’
‘Yes, he probably considered it because she’s the woman closest to me. Or girl, rather - she’s just a child.’ Charles shrugged. ‘What a ridiculous notion. Besides, I’m not the one she’s infatuated with, but perhaps Hank hasn’t realised that either.’
‘Realised what?’
‘I had thought you’d noticed it by now,’ he said, twirling a strand of Erik’s hair around his finger. ‘She’s crushing on you.’
‘I’m not the telepath.’
‘Well, it’s fairly obvious,’ he explained. ‘All the tell-tale signs of a school-girl crush are there.’
‘Being a teenager seems like very much fuss over very little,’ Erik observed, frowning. ‘I’m almost happy I missed out on it.’ Charles chuckled and said:
‘Oh, you don’t mean that.’
‘So what did Hank ultimately think?’ Erik wondered.
‘Well, he - and the others - don’t doubt that I got lucky last night. Precisely how is something neither of them can settle on. They are trying to figure out how I smuggled a mistress into the mansion without anyone noticing.’
‘I’m looking forward to when they start trying to wheedling clues out of me,’ Erik said, smiling to himself.
‘You wouldn’t tell them, won’t you?’ Charles asked, suddenly worried. ‘The fact remains that...’ The hand which was stroking Erik’s hand stopped and then withdrew. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ Erik got up, much more gracefully than Charles had expected possible, and settled in the armchair instead.
‘We’ll be discrete,’ he told him earnestly. ‘And if they figure them out, and they cannot accept it, then...’ He seemed to search for the words. ‘To Hell with them.’ Charles smiled halfheartedly.
‘I wish it were that easy.’
‘Charles, no-one in this house would ever betray you,’ Erik said emphatically and put a hand over his. ‘Not the children, and not the teachers. Even if they know, it would not reach outside these walls.’ Charles looked at him, smiling at the sensation that this was what he truly believed.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘If you say so.’ His mind moving on, he observed: ‘I guess that, had we had a lady teacher, it would simply have been assumed that it was her.’
‘Yes, probably,’ Erik conceded.
‘That, at least, is an advantage,’ Charles said and leaned his chin on his hand. ‘But I keep thinking that we should have a woman on the staff. If not as a teacher, then as a matron or something.’ He sensed that Erik thought the comment was a case of casual misogyny, but instead just asked:
‘How come?’
‘Well, about half our students are girls, after all, and they’re, well, a delicate age. They may feel that they need to speak to a woman on occasion.’ Erik snorted, looking entertained. ‘It’s not like we’re the ideal set of teachers,’ he explained. ‘I mean, look at us. Two doctors, one juvenile delinquent, one kid young enough to still be in high-school and one... renegade terrorist.’ Erik laughed.
‘I’m a freedom fighter, thank you.’ Smiling back, Charles said as he moved over to the window:
‘Have it your way.’
From his perch there, he could see out over the lawns where the children were playing. In the middle of the snowball fight, he spotted Jason, dressed in Raven’s old bright-red coat and matching hat. Even at this distance, he could sense the pure joy he was feeling. All that because of a little bit of snow... How come I cannot understand that? Charles seldom considered the perspective he lacked. All through his life, he had had everything, or nearly so - a safe home, food, friendship, a good education. He kept assuming that by now, he had stopped taking such things for granted, but he knew that he still did not understand to be grateful. He had the audacity to watch Jason’s delight at the snow or Erik’s memories of his mother from a distance, and however much he wanted it not to be that way, there was something patronising in his approach. He seemed unable to understand the importance of those small things. But then again, the illusion Jason had made for him where he could walk had been exceptional, even disregarding the fact that the setting was gruesome. What would Charles not give to be able to rise and steer Erik in a spontaneous dance? Two years ago, he had certainly taken walking for granted. Most people probably did.
‘Charles?’ Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked up, realising now that Erik had moved to stand beside him. ‘Penny for your thoughts.’
‘I wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular,’ Charles lied. It would have been apparent even without telepathy that Erik did not believe him, but he simply nodded. ‘You know what?’ he said instead. ‘There’s a chess set in the right-hand drawer of the desk - and give me my pipe. There’s still some time before lunch.‘ Charles could feel how Erik was contemplating kissing him, but knowing that there was plenty of time for such things later, he nodded and did as he asked. They played sitting by the window, watching the children, as their hands touched across the table.
Next chapter
Fandom X-Men: First Class
Pairings Erik/Charles, past Erik/Raven, mention of Hank/Raven, sort of brief Raven/Angel, references to future Scott/Jean
Beta cicero_drayon
Word count of chapters 4972
Word count of entire fic approx. 115 000
Ratings/warnings NC-17. Sexual situations, past physical and mental trauma, discussion of genocide, period transphobia, homophobia, ableism and racism, brief mentions of rape and suicide
Spoilers X-Men: First Class, X2 and (to a lesser extent) X-Men: The Last Stand. Some comic canon thrown in for good measure.
Disclaimer Marvel owns it, I don’t.
Summary Two arrivals to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters coincide - Jason Stryker, a child branded a freak because of his psychic powers, and Erik Lehnsherr, wanted terrorist and old friend of the professor. Jason is there as his father wants him cured - Erik claims that he has gone rogue from his own renegades. As tensions rise between mutants and humans, as well as between the suddenly reunited friends, who can truly be trusted?
Author’s notes I seem to keep referring to German expressionists in this fic - if you don’t know Egon Shiele, this is well worth having a look at.
‘Hey, Ororo, wake up.’
Something was poking Ororo’s shoulder, hard enough for it to wake her. She turned to her other side, hazily trying to get away from whatever it was. The poking stopped, and instead, a pair of hands took hold of her and shook her.
‘Ororo, it’s stopped hailing!’ She gave in and opened one eye. As soon as she could tell who was sitting on her bed, she buried her face in the pillow and said:
‘Jason, go away.’
‘No,’ said the resolute voice. ‘Wake up, or I’ll put you into a little box - so small that you can’t move or breathe.’ With sudden force, she sat up and stared at him.
‘I’d strike you first. With lightning.’
‘You wouldn’t be fast enough,’ Jason answered and smiled, a small peace offering. ‘I’ve learned your name and everything - you should talk to me.’ Drawing her knees close to her body, feeling that otherwise she might fall backwards and go to sleep again, Ororo looked around to make sure that none of the other girls had been woken. Just in case, she put her finger to her lips, and Jason imitated her. Shuffling closer, he whispered: ‘How did you make it hail?’
She shrugged.
‘I didn’t want to do sports, so I called the hail. It’s a kind of magic.’
‘It’s not magic - it’s just genes,’ Jason answered. ‘The professor explained it to me.’
‘Perhaps magic can be in the genes as well, then,’ Ororo retorted. She wanted to tell him to go back his own dorm so that she could go to sleep again, but perhaps Jason would put her in a box if she did that. She wondered who had told him that she was afraid of such things.
‘But you can make any weather?’
‘Mostly bad weather,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t call the sunshine.’ Jason seemed to think about it.
‘Would you make me some weather, if I made you something?’ Ororo hesitated, looking at him.
‘Do you want me to make something dangerous?’ she asked.
‘No, not really,’ Jason answered. ‘Come on, I’ll make you a world if you do it.’
‘What kind of world?’ Ororo wondered sceptically. Jason shrugged.
‘What kind would you like?’
***
The first thing Charles was aware of when he woke up was the unpleasant taste in his mouth. Still half-asleep, he thought that he must have forgot to brush his teeth the previous evening. Then he snapped awake, aware that he was not alone in the room. The space beside him in the bed empty; Erik was standing beside the window, so that he could look out of it but he would not be seen. He had made no attempt at modesty, but was still completely naked, his bare skin shimmering in the oddly white light from outside. His bony chest and his uncompromising nakedness reminded Charles of an Egon Shiele nude, something about that light giving the apparition an expressionistic feel, while at the same time, it put him in mind of what they had done, and what else they might do.
‘How long have you been awake?’ Charles said as he pushed himself up in a sitting position and propped himself against the bed-board. Erik looked his way and smiled.
‘A couple of hours.’
‘Hours?’ he replied. ‘And you’re still here? Still... naked?’
‘I didn’t want to leave,’ Erik answered simply, his voice still hushed. Now he left his perch at the window and slipped under the sheets again. When he settled, he pressed close to kiss his shoulder and draw a hand over his bare chest. Charles kissed his forehead in response.
‘Did I wake you?’ he asked. ‘Did I thrash?’
‘No, not at all,’ Erik said and leaned in to kiss his collar-bones tenderly. ‘I don’t sleep much. I was afraid to wake you if I stayed in bed.’ Now he straightened up and looked him full in the face.
‘I wouldn’t have complained,’ Charles said quietly. The last syllable disappeared as Erik leaned in and kissed him. The kiss tasted of morning, but the physicality of it was welcome. When they pulled apart, Erik looked away, and a secretive smile spread over his lips. ‘What are you thinking?’ Charles asked and stroked his hair. The smile grew a little at the absurdity of such a question coming from a telepath, but then he looked up. There was something profound in his eyes, and under that gaze, Charles found himself tongue-tied. Erik remained silent for a few more seconds, savouring the tranquility of the moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, as if he did not want to ruin that calmness.
‘Most days, I do not know why I am alive. As if I have tricked fate by escaping my appointed time, and I now exist between living and dying, without any claim on either state, and anything I do is a way to distract myself from the chimera of my existence.’ He paused and reached to stroke Charles’ face. In his touch, Charles could sense the bubbling sense of wonder in him. Yet again he smiled. ‘Today is not such a day.’ He smiled back and pulled Erik into an embrace. He did not attempt to speak, because there were no words in any language he knew which could express the humbling gratitude he felt at giving him purpose.
At length, the embrace shifted, and Charles rested his head against Erik’s chest. The beat of his heart almost lulled him to sleep, but feeling his fingers comb through his hair and ghost over his neck made him want to stay awake.
‘The light’s odd,’ Charles said finally, watching the bright rays flooding in through the window.
‘Ororo hasn’t been idle,’ Erik simply said and sought his lips. They kissed, and then Charles said, half to himself:
‘Where’s my dressing-gown?’
‘I think it’s on the floor,’ Erik answered, gesturing to the side closer to Charles. With a half-apologetic smile, he disentangled their limbs and pushed himself away. He fished the dressing-gown up from the floor and pushed himself up on one arm, when he felt a hand on his back. He stayed still, waiting, as Erik came closer until his breath played upon his shoulder.
‘Is this...?’ His fingers traced his spine downwards, passing the point where he stopped feeling. Charles knew that he had followed the scar running down his back.
‘From the surgery,’ he explained. ‘The bullet itself didn’t break the skin.’ Erik’s hand withdrew, and for a moment they were separated, until he put his arms around him and pressed him close.
‘I am sorry,’ he whispered, emotion in his voice. Charles turned his head to catch a glimpse of him.
‘Don’t say that.’ He did not want Erik to feel guilty, and most of all he did not want him to start treating him like an invalid, like so many others did. He wanted to say, it doesn’t matter, but that was not true. If he had the choice, of course he would want to be whole and able. There were so many things he wished he could do, and this new-found intimacy with Erik multiplied those wishes. But if Erik started pitying him, he would be so much more aware of how inadequate he was to him. He needed to stay away from those thoughts at any cost, lest they overpower him.
‘Promise me something, Erik,’ he said and turned around so that they faced each other.
‘Anything.’
‘Never patronise me,’ Charles said. ‘I get enough of that from Hank and the others.’ Erik smiled mirthlessly, but nodded.
‘You do know how much they care for you, don’t you?’ he then said.
‘Of course,’ Charles said. He felt it every time they were close. ‘But it doesn’t make the pity any easier to bear.’ Then, feeling that they had spent enough time on such questions, he took hold of his chin and pulled him into a kiss. Erik kissed back eagerly, and when their lips parted, the contented look was back on his face.
‘I promise.’
‘Thank you,’ Charles said with a genuine smile. As he put on the dressing-gown, he realised that the wheelchair was on the other side of the room, where they had left it last night. ‘Erik, would you mind?’ At a commanding flick of Erik’s hand, the chair rolled towards then and when it stopped at the bedside, Charles maneuvered himself into it. As he drew his legs after him and put each foot on the footrests, he picked up Erik’s thoughts. He had expected him, despite what he had just promised, to reflect on his own guilt and Charles’ weakness, but instead, he felt respect, as well as feeling somewhat impressed, relieved that Charles’ stubbornness was intact. He could have asked me to lift him, but still he does it himself. ‘I’ve been doing this for the past two years,’ he said and smiled at him. ‘I don’t even have to think about it anymore.’
‘Listening in, are you?’ Erik asked, but smiled back.
‘I’m sorry - I was curious,’ Charles admitted and arranged his dressing-gown to achieve some degree of modesty. Erik half-sat, half-sprawled on the bed, completely unashamed at not wearing a stitch. For a brief moment, he considered telling him outright how beautiful he found him, every sharp bone, every scar, every quirk of his mien. Then he collected himself instead and crossed to the window.
Overnight, the grounds had turned white. It was just about possible to see the invisible line where the artificial winter ceased and autumn remained, but until that point, the lawns were covered in a thick snow blanket.
‘Snow,’ he said and laughed in wonder. ‘In October! That girl is amazing.’
‘It’ll be cold outside,’ Erik said. ‘You should come back to bed.’
‘What’s the time?’ He rolled onto his stomach and reached for the alarm clock.
‘Quarter to eight.’
‘Quarter to?’ Charles repeated, snapping awake properly. ‘We should have been down at breakfast ages ago. Erik, put something on. You need to get back to your room.’ As he spoke, he drew the curtains, and passed to the wardrobe. When he had retrieved a shirt and waistcoat from it, he paused and watched Erik, who had left the bed and was picking his clothes off the floor. Quickly he replaced each piece of clothing which he had shed the previous evening. When he was decently dressed and had straightened his tie, he crossed to him and leaned down to kiss him. Charles craned his neck and beat him to it. Finally, thought Erik. Why did we wait so long to do this? This is how it should always have been. When he drew back, leaving Charles’ lips feeling raw, they smiled at each other, and Erik said:
‘You should take a look in the mirror.’ Patting him on the shoulder, he turned and left. When Charles entered the bathroom and followed his advice, he understood what Erik had meant.
***
The purple-and-red love bite on Charles’ neck proved impossible to hide completely without a complete rethinking of his wardrobe - suddenly the advantage of turtlenecks seemed obvious. His attempts to cover it up simply with his collar were mostly unsuccessful, and when he came down for breakfast, both Hank and Alex’s eyes seemed to grow.
‘Have you been attacked by a... wild dog?’ Alex asked, too astounded to manage proper sarcasm.
‘Or a vacuum cleaner,’ Hank suggested, looking as if his eyes would pop out of their sockets. They were both frantically trying to figure out how the professor had managed to smuggle a mistress into the house.
‘Beautiful weather, isn’t it?’ Charles just said cheerfully as he settled in the empty space by the table and started pouring his tea. ‘We’ll have to make sure the children are properly bundled up - it seems quite cold. Remind me to tell Sean where mine and Raven’s old clothes are kept.’
Just then, the door opened and Erik rushed in, dressed in fresh clothes.
‘Someone took a lie-in,’ Alex muttered into his coffee. Erik did not heed him, only sat down and glanced at Charles.
‘Keeping the children inside today will be impossible,’ he said.
‘Well, we’ll have to give them some extra time off,’ Charles answered brightly. ‘There’s really nothing like playing in the snow. Would you care for some tomatoes, Erik? Eggs?’ Erik accepted the plate and looked him in the eye for a moment. Charles smiled back at him and then looked away, hoping the way he felt his cheeks flushing was not too telling.
***
The morning classes all finished early, and the children were allowed out into the snow. Sean had spent the morning looking through boxes in the attic and had found enough bobble-hats, gloves and scarves to go around. Charles had retrieved his winter coat and a cap, as well as his old college scarf. The shade of blue in the scarf, made rather worse by the pink-and-grey lines, clashed with the blue of his suit, but it would keep him warm and, possibly more importantly, hide the hickey. Perhaps it would keep at least the children from speculating.
As soon as he came outside, the cacophony of the playing students struck him. A snowball fight was being fought on the big lawn, and a little way away a few children were building a snowman. His progress down the path was much slower than usual. Several inches of snow had fallen overnight, and even if the paths had been stepped up, they were slippery and unpredictable. There had only been a few weeks of snow the previous winter, so he was not very used to it in his current condition. Inevitably, he had not ventured outside as much as he did in other weathers. He knew the children worried that he might do himself an injury, and Hank was terrified that he might catch cold, considering how easily it could turn into pneumonia. Their fretting occasionally made the challenge of going outside not feel worth it, which was a shame, because he had always loved the snow. He had fond memories of having snowball-fights with Raven when they were children, and now he felt rather perturbed by his inability to join in.
It was among the children with the snowman he spotted the child he had been looking for, the white hair sticking out from under the red bobble-hat unmistakable. Forming a funnel with his hands which he put to his mouth, he shouted:
‘Ororo!’ The little shape turned around and when she saw him waving at her, she turned to the others, probably to make her excuses, and then ran through the snow. When she approached, she dropped into a walk, looking rather shamefaced.
‘I’m sorry, professor,’ she said. ‘I can explain.’
‘Don’t apologise, Ororo,’ he said and waved her to his side. ‘Walk with me.’ When they were out of earshot, he asked: ‘So, you’re making a snowman?’
‘It’s not a snowman,’ she explained, sounding just as aloof as only a twelve-year-old could. ‘It’s a snow-Beast.’ Charles laughed, his eyes on the ground just in front of him.
‘Are you going to give it glasses?’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, not sounding certain. ‘You don’t think Doctor McCoy would mind?’
‘Oh, he’ll be delighted,’ he assured her. ‘Now, tell me about the snow.’ She sighed, obviously feeling rather stupid.
‘It was a deal,’ she explained. ‘Jason asked me to do it.’
‘Oh?’
‘He said he’d make a world for me if I did.’ Now, Charles stopped and turned to look at her.
‘And did he?’ She nodded.
‘He let me tell him what to make and everything.’
‘How nice of him,’ he said, hiding his surprise. ‘How... was it?’
‘Wonderful,’ Ororo confessed.
‘So you and Jason are friends?’ She shrugged, thinking that she was not certain. Nevertheless, Charles reflected, Jason obviously spoke to her in a way he did not do to the teachers, at least not to him. That was a good sign.
‘Sort of.’
‘Well, let me tell you, Ororo, that sort of friends often become proper friends,’ he told her. ‘And they’re always good to have around.’ She nodded gratefully. ‘What did you ask for?’ She thought the answer before saying it.
‘Home,’ she admitted. Charles smiled at her.
‘Kenya?’ She nodded, and in her mind he saw the illusion Jason had made for her of a majestic oasis, dreamt up by the Cairo urchin from patches of stories she remembered her parents, dead in the Suez war. It was a home she had never known, but still she felt a tug to go there.
‘Was it wrong of me?’ she whispered.
‘Of course not,’ Charles assured her. Sensing that the situation required some paternal kindness, he put a hand on her shoulder and made her look at him. ‘You’re so far away from the place you grew up. There’s no shame in longing.’
‘I prefer this,’ she admitted and looked up at the mansion. He followed her glance, and something of the blindness to his own home disappeared, making his realise what he great place it was.
‘It’s possible to have more than one home,’ he told her. ‘You don’t have to give up anything.’ She hesitated, and then nodded.
‘Okay. Thank you, Professor.’
‘Good,’ he said and let go of her shoulder. ‘Come on, I want your help with something.’
They went the rest of the way to the rose-garden in silence. The snow weighed down the bushes, but here and there, a flower peeked out, adding a speck of colour in the whiteness. Ororo looked around, delighted. The students tended not to come into the rose garden; even if it was not enclosed, they understood the implicit decision that it was the professor’s own.
‘I’m a little worried for them,’ Charles explained and reached out to cup a yellow rose in his hand. The snow-flakes sparkled and melted at his touch. ‘I don’t think the cold is good for them. So, would you make this spot a little less cold? If you like, leave the rest of the grounds. People are having a lot of fun, and the usual climate will break through eventually. Could you do that?’ Ororo nodded and took a few steps away, so that she stood in the middle of the small garden. Her concentration was visible on her face as she focused and then, summoning her powers, she shouted:
‘I command the tropical winds - heat this place!’ The cold air started moving and swirled around them, and the snow melted from the flowers. As quickly as it had come, it disappeared, and Ororo’s arms fell.
‘Wonderful,’ Charles said, looking around. Now it looked simply like the garden had had some rain. At the point where the roots of the bushes stopped, the snow started again. ‘You’re getting very good at controlling your range.’ She shrugged, looking away. Charles took the opportunity to break off a white rose from a nearby bush. Offering it to her, he said: ‘Thank you, Ororo.’ Her face, usually so controlled, split into a delighted smile as she accepted it. She put her nose into it and inhaled, closing her eyes in pleasure. ‘Let’s put it in some water, and then you can go back to working on your snow-Beast,’ he told her and wheeled out of the garden. She walked beside him, still looking at the rose, cupped in her hands.
‘No-one’s ever given me a flower before,’ she said, still smiling.
‘All in good time, Ororo - you’re still young,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You can never rush the proper flower-deliveries. But they’ll come - I can promise you that.’ As he spoke, he pushed the wheels of his chair around, but he was so concerned with assuring his student that he did not register what was happening before one wheel hit an icy spot and turned too much. The chair swung around violently and hit the stone-edge of the path. Finding no time to react, Charles was flung out of the chair from the impact. Ororo shouted at the top of her voice as he landed, his face in the snow.
‘Help! Professor! Help!’ Feeling dazed, Charles shook snow out of his hair. ‘Professor, are you alright?’ She had run up to him and was crouching in the snow at his side, the white rose still in her grip.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said and laughed, for want of something else to do. ‘Goodness. How careless of me.’ He looked back, assessing the situation. He had flown a rather long way, far enough that he had not hit the stone-edge himself, which was good. Any injury to his legs may be painless, but it would not heal properly. Now that he was certain that there was no danger, he pushed himself up on one elbow and, thinking that he might as well take the opportunity, gathered some snow together to make a snowball. Ororo chewed her lip, still looking worried.
‘Professor!’ Looking up, Charles caught sight of Alex and Hank running towards them. Alex was being held back by the snow, while Hank had given up his usual attempts to stay on two legs and was bounding forward on all fours at incredible speed. When he reached them, he promptly picked Charles up, as easily as if he had been a small child.
‘Are you hurt, professor?’ he said urgently.
‘I’m fine,’ Charles answered as he was put down in the wheelchair. ‘There was just an icy spot which I didn’t notice...’ Hank bristled, both figuratively and literarily.
‘You need to be careful, professor,’ he barked. ‘If you hurt yourself...’
‘Yes, yes, Hank, I know,’ Charles sighed. Alex reached them now, and before he had time to start fretting too, Charles threw the snowball he had made at him. Alex looked equally surprised and angry, but did not do anything, perhaps feeling that throwing snow at a cripple, particularly one who had just fallen out of his wheelchair, was not done. Hank muttered something about “childish” and started pushing the chair back towards the house. Charles looked past him and waved at Ororo, who waved back and, shielding the flower in her hand, went the other way.
***
Charles had just finished pulling on a dry jumper when the door to his room was pushed open and Erik rushed in, looking alarmed. When he saw the professor, he stopped and sighed with relief.
‘They told me you’d had a fall,’ he explained, trying to compose himself.
‘Oh, I took a tumble,’ Charles explained with a shrug. ‘It was rather fun, actually. I got the opportunity to throw a snowball at Alex. No harm done.’ Erik opened his mouth, as if to argue, but he added: ‘Hank insisted on looking me over, and all he prescribed me was a hot bath, a cup of cocoa and a set of dry clothes.’
‘I’m glad that someone’s sensible around here,’ Erik concluded and crossed to him, pressing a kiss onto his cheek before moving the armchair so that it faced him. Instead of sitting down in it, he rested his shoulder in Charles’ lap, his head propped against his chest, and had his legs against the back of the armchair.
‘Is that really comfortable?’ Charles asked as he stroked his hair.
‘It serves its purpose,’ Erik answered and was awarded a kiss on the head.
‘Hank was discrete enough not to ask about the origin of the bite-mark on my shoulder,’ Charles told him, a little more gravely.
‘Hm. What does he think is the reason?’ Erik asked. ‘I assume you know.’
‘Well, he doesn’t suspect,’ Charles said as he continued playing with the other man’s hair. ‘He assumes it’s a woman, of course. I must admit I’m a little insulted by the fact that he considered if it were Susanna.’
‘Susanna Gardiner?’ Erik scoffed. ‘A good girl like her doesn’t bite.’
‘Hank isn’t very well-versed in matters of love, Erik,’ Charles reminded him. ‘He rejected it, of course, but that the thought passed his mind... Do I come across as someone who’d seduce my students?’ Erik tipped his head back to look at him.
‘Of course you don’t. Although I assume that you can be friendlier to them than we can.’
‘By virtue of being a cripple, you mean.’
‘Because they don’t perceive you as a threat,’ Erik clarified. ‘I’m certain Beast doesn’t think you’d have your evil way with a fifteen-year old.’
‘Yes, he probably considered it because she’s the woman closest to me. Or girl, rather - she’s just a child.’ Charles shrugged. ‘What a ridiculous notion. Besides, I’m not the one she’s infatuated with, but perhaps Hank hasn’t realised that either.’
‘Realised what?’
‘I had thought you’d noticed it by now,’ he said, twirling a strand of Erik’s hair around his finger. ‘She’s crushing on you.’
‘I’m not the telepath.’
‘Well, it’s fairly obvious,’ he explained. ‘All the tell-tale signs of a school-girl crush are there.’
‘Being a teenager seems like very much fuss over very little,’ Erik observed, frowning. ‘I’m almost happy I missed out on it.’ Charles chuckled and said:
‘Oh, you don’t mean that.’
‘So what did Hank ultimately think?’ Erik wondered.
‘Well, he - and the others - don’t doubt that I got lucky last night. Precisely how is something neither of them can settle on. They are trying to figure out how I smuggled a mistress into the mansion without anyone noticing.’
‘I’m looking forward to when they start trying to wheedling clues out of me,’ Erik said, smiling to himself.
‘You wouldn’t tell them, won’t you?’ Charles asked, suddenly worried. ‘The fact remains that...’ The hand which was stroking Erik’s hand stopped and then withdrew. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ Erik got up, much more gracefully than Charles had expected possible, and settled in the armchair instead.
‘We’ll be discrete,’ he told him earnestly. ‘And if they figure them out, and they cannot accept it, then...’ He seemed to search for the words. ‘To Hell with them.’ Charles smiled halfheartedly.
‘I wish it were that easy.’
‘Charles, no-one in this house would ever betray you,’ Erik said emphatically and put a hand over his. ‘Not the children, and not the teachers. Even if they know, it would not reach outside these walls.’ Charles looked at him, smiling at the sensation that this was what he truly believed.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘If you say so.’ His mind moving on, he observed: ‘I guess that, had we had a lady teacher, it would simply have been assumed that it was her.’
‘Yes, probably,’ Erik conceded.
‘That, at least, is an advantage,’ Charles said and leaned his chin on his hand. ‘But I keep thinking that we should have a woman on the staff. If not as a teacher, then as a matron or something.’ He sensed that Erik thought the comment was a case of casual misogyny, but instead just asked:
‘How come?’
‘Well, about half our students are girls, after all, and they’re, well, a delicate age. They may feel that they need to speak to a woman on occasion.’ Erik snorted, looking entertained. ‘It’s not like we’re the ideal set of teachers,’ he explained. ‘I mean, look at us. Two doctors, one juvenile delinquent, one kid young enough to still be in high-school and one... renegade terrorist.’ Erik laughed.
‘I’m a freedom fighter, thank you.’ Smiling back, Charles said as he moved over to the window:
‘Have it your way.’
From his perch there, he could see out over the lawns where the children were playing. In the middle of the snowball fight, he spotted Jason, dressed in Raven’s old bright-red coat and matching hat. Even at this distance, he could sense the pure joy he was feeling. All that because of a little bit of snow... How come I cannot understand that? Charles seldom considered the perspective he lacked. All through his life, he had had everything, or nearly so - a safe home, food, friendship, a good education. He kept assuming that by now, he had stopped taking such things for granted, but he knew that he still did not understand to be grateful. He had the audacity to watch Jason’s delight at the snow or Erik’s memories of his mother from a distance, and however much he wanted it not to be that way, there was something patronising in his approach. He seemed unable to understand the importance of those small things. But then again, the illusion Jason had made for him where he could walk had been exceptional, even disregarding the fact that the setting was gruesome. What would Charles not give to be able to rise and steer Erik in a spontaneous dance? Two years ago, he had certainly taken walking for granted. Most people probably did.
‘Charles?’ Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked up, realising now that Erik had moved to stand beside him. ‘Penny for your thoughts.’
‘I wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular,’ Charles lied. It would have been apparent even without telepathy that Erik did not believe him, but he simply nodded. ‘You know what?’ he said instead. ‘There’s a chess set in the right-hand drawer of the desk - and give me my pipe. There’s still some time before lunch.‘ Charles could feel how Erik was contemplating kissing him, but knowing that there was plenty of time for such things later, he nodded and did as he asked. They played sitting by the window, watching the children, as their hands touched across the table.
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