Fic: Let Freedom Ring 8/19
Title Let Freedom Ring 8/19
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 7251
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?
‘I don’t understand what goes on in the mornings anymore,’ Hank admitted. The breakfast preparations, at least, were the same as they had always been. He had just finished helping Alex with putting out enough porridge and jam and bread and orange juice to feed the students, and was working on the teachers’ cooked breakfast.
‘Is that because you haven’t worked out a formula or something for frying eggs?’ Alex asked and lit a cigarette under the kitchen fan. Hank took it from his hand and crushed it in the sink.
‘No,’ he answered, feeling annoyed. ‘I just wonder why people’s habits have changed so suddenly. When he first came here, Erik would always go running before breakfast. Now, he does it after classes. Also, I think he used to walk around in the house in the night...’
‘...Because he’s a creep,’ Alex concluded.
‘The point is that he doesn’t do it anymore,’ Hank explained. He was not entirely certain why he was talking to Alex about this, but he had to vent for someone, and Sean probably had not noticed any of it. ‘And then there’s the professor...’ Alex laughed.
‘You’re just jealous because he’s obviously getting more than any of us others,’ he said. ‘Not that getting more than you is much of an achievement.’ Ignoring the jibe, Hank asked:
‘But Alex, whom is he...?’
‘Fucking,’ Alex suggested.
‘I was going to go for something a little less explicit.’
‘Don’t ask me,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It must be someone living nearby. I mean, there’s no-one at the school it could be. Sean and I reckon she’s getting in through the tunnel...’
‘Overly complicated,’ Hank pointed out. ‘It just doesn’t make proper sense. I mean, he must have met this girl in some way, and he barely ever leaves the grounds. Something’s not right...’ He broke off at the noise form the upper floor. Even Alex, whose hearing was not as acute, sighed.
‘And there goes the bedsprings,’ he muttered. ‘You know, there’s an easy way of finding out who it is.’
‘Are you suggesting barging in?’ Hank asked, feeling his face going hot.
‘We wouldn’t have to - we could just wait outside the door and see who comes out.’
‘If you’re right about the whole tunnel idea, what says that there isn’t a hidden door in the master bedroom?’ Alex shrugged, defeated. He weighed from one foot to the other and then asked:
‘Hey, Beast, how does he... y’know?’
‘What?’ Hank said, intent on flipping the eggs.
‘I was just thinking, with the prof’s spine. I mean, can he still...?’
‘Alex Summers, you should have your brain cleaned with bleach!’ Alex sniggered and took out another cigarette. ‘You’re not smoking that in here,’ he told him, glad for the distraction. ‘Tobacco is very harmful, you know. There’s been studies. I keep trying to tell people...’
‘It can’t be dangerous,’ Alex snorted and crossed to the window. ‘You’re just trying to ruin other people’s fun. If you’re going to be such a pain in the arse, I’ll lean out of the window to smoke it.’ Cigarette already between his lips, he opened the window. He struck the match at the same moment as the explosion.
It was a sudden loud roar, which made Alex back away and Hank grab the cupboards, afraid that they might fall down. They exchanged looks, their usual antagonism gone and replaced by the efficiency of battle. Having had a moment to analyse the sound, Hank realised that it was not close at all. When he looked out of the window, he saw a pillar of smoke in the distance. Alex stopped by his side, watching the flames which were sprouting.
‘What the hell just happened?’
***
When there was a knock on the door to the study, Charles was glad for the distraction. This morning had not been productive so far, but he did not know what unsettled him so. Perhaps it had been the explosions in the morning - even if it was only an accident, it was not pleasant, and maybe the fact that it had interrupted a spontaneous morning tryst was part of it too. Erik had of course assumed that it was an attack, and when they had found out that it was an fire at the nearby gas-works, going back to bed had not seemed like an option.
Now, when Susanna entered the room, carrying the loaded tea-tray, he put the cap on his pen and said:
‘You’re a darling, Susanna. Just what I needed.’ He moved over to the table by the French windows and asked: ‘You’re between classes, aren’t you?’ Susanna put down the tea-tray and nodded. ‘Won’t you have some tea with me?’ She blushed scarlet, but sat down, her shoulders tense and her smile expectant.
‘Thank you, professor,’ she said, when he handed her the teacup. Charles could not help feeling pleasure at having their roles reserved for once, so that he could do a practical chore for her. On occasion, being an imposing headmasterly figure was tedious.
‘Did you hear the bang this morning?’ he wondered as he poured himself a cup.
‘Yes, I did,’ she said, at once excited. ‘Just when I was getting ready for breakfast. What was it?’
‘On the radio, they said that a fire had broken out in the gas works in Bedford,’ Charles explained. ‘It’s about ten miles away, so there’s nothing really to worry about.’
‘But it must have been huge,’ she said, sounding awed. He nodded.
‘Yes, quite possibly. I’m sure I’ve heard some smaller explosions since,’ he said. ‘I just hope that they evacuated in time.’ Then, leaving the topic of local news, he gave her a fatherly smile and asked: ‘So how are your classes, Susanna?’ The girl put down the cup on the saucer and said:
‘Wonderful.’
‘You’re taking German, aren’t you?’
Both German and French,’ she admitted, looking both proud and a little embarrassed at the same time. Charles nodded sagely; he had already known that.
‘How are you finding it, then? All that grammar to be learnt?’
‘French is easier,’ she said with a shrug, ‘but we haven’t gotten as far. I don’t think the French group is very good at languages.’ That had been what Erik had said too, Charles remembered.
‘And what about your German classes? What are you reading?’ he asked tentatively.
‘Schiller,’ she said and lit up. ‘I love Schiller. We read An die Freuden last time, and it’s so beautiful.’
‘I haven’t read it,’ Charles admitted.
‘Oh, you should, sir,’ she said, and then stopped. ‘Although I don’t know if you know German.’
‘I do, but it’s a little patchy,’ he told her, not untruthfully. ‘I’m sure that Mister Lehnsherr would give me some pointers.’ Susanna smiled at the name, as if by Pavlovian association.
‘I - I enjoy Mister Lehnsherr’s classes very much,’ she said, her embarrassment at finding herself admitting it making her trip over her words.
‘It’s wonderful what an inspiring teacher can do,’ Charles said simply, and slipped into Susanna’s mind briefly. The unorthodox class which had upset Jason so much had certainly made an impression on her, but even if it had shaken her, it had only left her impressed at Erik’s power with words. She and Betsy, the young British psychic, had talked about it, and it had only made them respect him more. So passionate, had been Susanna’s dreamy conclusion. It calmed him that the incident, now almost two weeks away, was losing its strength so rapidly, both with her and with other students whose minds he had read. Another side of him was aware of that that made him something of a coward, unwilling to face the problems which were real, but he invoked the safety of his students as his main argument in the debate with himself.
He was just going to ask Susanna about her plans for the future, when there was a sharp knock on the door and Sean, closely followed by Hank, entered.
‘Professor, you should hear this,’ he said and crossed to the radio. Susanna looked around, bewildered at their abrupt entrance. Charles watched Sean finding the right settings on the radio, feeling his heart sinking. They were projecting loudly enough for him to know already what was happening.
‘...a truly devastating event. A tragedy.’
‘Thank you for those comments. As we reported before this interview, previous statements that the explosions at the Bedford Gas Works were accidental have been refuted by police, who have made a statement that just before the explosions, a tape with threats against the gas works as well as several other targets in New York state was delivered to the police. In light of this, the explosions, which this far have left twenty-three employees dead and several more injured, are being treated as an attack from mutant terrorists. The death count is expected to rise. Now, to our other news...’
Sean turned the volume down and they looked at each other.
‘Susanna, I think you should go and work on your Schiller,’ Charles said kindly. She looked like she was going to argue for a moment, that familiar argument of “I’m old enough to know” not far away, but then she nodded and left reluctantly. When the door closed behind her, Charles let out a sigh.
‘What do we do?’ Hank asked.
‘We could go over there,’ Sean suggested. ‘It’s so close - we could be suited up in no time...’
‘No, under no circumstances,’ Charles told him sharply.
‘But...’
‘If they suspect mutant involvement, they won’t be able to tell us from them,’ he explained. ‘It’s better that we stay out of it.’ He considered the situation, and then said: ‘This is what we do. Assemble the children - explain what’s happened. There will be parents calling, but I’ll deal with them. We do nothing else until the one o’clock news. Then, we assess the situation, and I will collect more information using Cerebro.’
‘Shouldn’t be find out what’s going on first?’ Sean asked.
‘No, the professor’s right,’ Hank interrupted.
‘If it appears that we know more than what’s on the radio, that will make people very suspicious,’ Charles explained. ‘It’s close enough that we can see the smoke - people will assume we’ve got something to do with it. We wait.’
As if to illustrate that the conversation was over, the telephone on his desk rang.
‘Excuse me,’ Charles said and wheeled over to it. ‘I seem to have some upset parents to deal with.’
***
The wait until the one o’clock news was excruciating. There was no time for a proper lunch. Instead, they ended up eating in Charles’ study, sitting on the couch and in armchairs, as the headmaster continued trying to calm down the various parents who were calling. Roberto’s mother wanted to take home her son, and it took over half an hour to talk her out of the decision. Charles was not so successful with Tabitha’s parents, who assumed that there was a connection between the school and the attack and demanded to pick up their daughter the next day.
‘We’ll tell her this afternoon,’ Charles told the others. ‘They may yet change their minds.’ Still, it did not seem very likely. For not the first time since Sean had burst in and turned the radio on, he wished Erik was there. He had only seen him briefly between phone-calls, just before the assembly, and they had not had time speak. They had simply shared a glance, mutual worry passing between them before their respective tasks had called them. During lunch, Erik had kept the students company, and Charles had sensed that he wished he had been in the study with the other teachers. More than once, he had considered calling him with his mind, telling him to come. He needed him by his side, quiet and composed at his shoulder, for support and encouragement. For a moment, he imagined Erik standing beside him and placing his hand over his on the desk. Thinking about it made it feel worse.
When they moved over to the television room, Charles pointed out:
‘Someone should get Erik.’
‘What about the kids?’ Sean asked. He very nearly said that Sean could watch the students instead, but he realised that that was not an acceptable answer, so he simply murmured something vague and let it go.
They were a few minutes early for the broadcast, but soon enough the picture of the grave news anchor appeared.
‘Good afternoon. Our leading story today is the mutant attack on the gas works in Bedford, New York State. The attack has this far has claimed twenty-seven lives and injured dozens, both of employees at the gas works and from the surrounding area, as well causing extensive damage on property and infrastructure. Reinforcements of police and fire-fighters have been sent in. Reports of the army having been called in have not yet been confirmed. Police has released parts of the tape which was sent to Bedford police station just before the first explosions to the public.’
The anchor disappeared, and in his place was a grainy, black-and-white picture of a seated figure. The beginning of the recording must have been cut, because the image was frozen for a second. It was long enough for Charles to recognise the odd helmet the figure wore. Cold sweat started to gather under his collar. His throat went dry. A dark, solemn voice he knew so well came from the television set.
‘We will show no mercy. We will show no humility. If humankind is not prepared to accept the end of their reign, then it is our duty to wrench the sceptre from their hands. We shall stop at nothing to gain what is rightfully ours.’
‘My God,’ Hank murmured. Charles became aware of them all looking his way.
‘You let this man into our house,’ Sean said disbelievingly. ‘You sheltered him...’
‘Something’s not right,’ Charles said, half to himself.
‘Damn right it isn’t,’ Alex said. Panic and anger made his voice shake. ‘We left the kids with him.’
‘No, with the recording,’ Charles said, his own voice not quite steady either. ‘Can’t you hear it? This is an old recording. His accent’s changed since he came here - it’s not as strong on this tape...’
‘So they recorded it before he left, and then he went here to give himself an alibi,’ Alex retorted. ‘Professor, he’s had you on - all this has been a plot. I kept saying there was something odd with all this...’ Charles shook his head, not wanting to hear his objections. He had wondered why Erik had returned, of course, but every time he had read his mind, there had been no deceit to be found. He did not think that Erik would be able to hide such a thing, even with the help of another telepath. Could it be that he had not gone deep enough - had he endangered the children by inviting him back? But why would the Brotherhood hide away their leader - after all, Charles had been with Erik when the explosion had happened. Self-consciously, he raised his hand and slipped his fingers under his collar to touch the mark on his throat. He wondered, if worst came to worst, whether he would have the courage to tell them how he could be so certain where Erik had been that morning.
The grainy picture was exchanged of that with the news anchor again.
‘Known mutant terrorists have been spotted at the scene of the attack, among them their ringleader, who goes under the name “Magneto”. An individual thought to be the same is wanted in several countries, among them Germany, Switzerland, Monaco and Argentina, on several charges, including murder, assault and fraud.’ Charles’ heartbeat stepped up. If Magneto had been there, there could only be one answer...
‘We are now joined by Senator Henry Gyrich. Welcome, Mister Gyrich. What do you think will be the direct consequences of this attack?’
‘Thank you for having me. Today is without a doubt a watershed in these issues. We have figures of well over thirty dead. Ignoring the situation will no longer be an option for the government. Both on a state and a federal level, officials must now take a firm stand on the mutant question...’
‘So we’re a question now.’ Charles looked up and felt his heart jump with mingled fear and relief. There stood Erik, not in helmet and cape but in suit and tie, not a warrior but a teacher, leaning against the doorway. ‘“The mutant question”,’ Erik repeated, walking slowly into the room, aware of everyone staring at him. No one was paying attention to the television anymore. He stopped a few feet from the professor and looked him in the eye. ‘They will find an answer to that question, Charles. This is how it starts.’ Charles swallowed.
‘Your arguments have lost their lustre, my friend.’ Erik lifted an eyebrow.
‘I did not wish for this to happen,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘It does not change the fact that is has.’
‘You could have changed it,’ Charles answered.
‘How?’ Finding no way to answer, Charles simply pointed to the television. The recorded threat was being played again.
‘We will show no mercy. We will show no humility.’ Erik did not lose control over his face, but his eyes darkened.
‘Well?’ Hank asked, getting to his feet. Alex moved to his side, and Sean rose too. The only thing between them and their target was Charles, his physical position a mark of his act as negotiator.
‘I knew it,’ Alex said. ‘Someone like him wouldn’t just change his mind and go good.’
‘It’s not that simple, Alex,’ Charles said, but did not look away from Erik. Even in this dire situation, as anger and disappointment mixed, he felt a glow of affection for him. He pushed it aside and concentrated on the situation in question. ‘First thing is first, Erik. You lied to me.’
‘Not by choice,’ he answered.
‘The Brotherhood did this,’ Charles stated, annoyed at how casual Erik sounded. ‘True or false?’ He was silent for a moment, and then conceded:
‘True.’
‘And you told me that the Brotherhood had been disbanded,’ he continued. Now, Erik shook his head.
‘I never said that. I simply did not mention their continued existence.’ Charles’ calm finally broke.
‘A lie of omission is still a lie!’ he shouted. Behind him, he was aware of the others jumping at him raising his voice. In front of him, Erik remained still, the only reaction a melancholic smile and an averted glance.
‘Yes, perhaps it was a lie,’ he admitted. ‘But it was you, Charles, who assumed that the Brotherhood had been disbanded, and it felt better not to correct you. I assumed that eventually, you would read that part of my mind, and you’d know the truth about my defection.’ Charles watched him, his disappointment and anger mixing with a resigned sense of gratitude for at least this truth.
‘So was it just you and Mystique, then?’ he asked.
‘Wha- Mystique?’ Hank repeated, startled.
‘Isn’t that right?’ Charles said, still looking Erik in the eye but pointed to the television. ‘You had never heard those words in your life.’ Now Erik chuckled, as if the situation had turned absurd.
‘Right as always, old friend.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Hank stuttered. ‘If he’s never heard them...’
‘Magneto on the tape sent to the police wasn’t Erik,’ Charles explained. ‘It was Raven. Wasn’t it?’ Erik nodded. ‘Then tell us everything.’
Erik drew a breath and sat down, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped.
‘I did not lie when I said that the Brotherhood had no chance of success,’ he began. He remained turned towards Charles, oblivious of the other mutants in the room. ‘Shaw’s old lackeys were an unpleasant crowd. They wanted little of mutant freedom, only freedom from authority - human or mutant. They were opportunists, only allied with Shaw because of what he could give them, and they grew more and more annoyed at the fact that I was not interested at giving them any comforts, but to have them fight for a cause I had expected we shared. The new recruits were unpredictable, bent on senseless destruction for no other reason than that they enjoyed it. They did not share my conviction. Few did. It had looked perfect to begin with, but in reality, we were caught up in constant arguments, even fights within our own ranks. To achieve what I wished for was not a realistic goal. It was a stillborn enterprise.’ Charles listened with his chin leaning against his hand, eyes not straying from Erik.
‘So you decided to leave,’ he filled in when he fell silent.
‘Yes, but it was not that simple,’ Erik explained. ‘I could not simply shed my mantle and hope that there would be an Elisha to take it up. But more and more often, I doubted the methods we had prescribed to. It did not scare the humans into submission, only made them more aggressive towards us. It was ineffective - dangerous, even.’
‘I thought that was what you wanted,’ Sean said, unconvinced. ‘You wouldn’t just give up wrecking destruction like that.’ Erik shot him a look, and when he answered, his voice had gained a fierce edge.
‘Do you really take me for such a monster?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you understand that I had grown tired of it all? I have spent my entire adult life pursuing a single goal, with no home, no family, no companionship. I thought that after...’ He paused briefly to control himself. ‘...after Shaw’s death, I could go back to that, despite what I... left behind. I was wrong. All I want now is what was always denied me.’ He sighed and turned to look at Charles for a moment. ‘I have lost my single-mindedness. I had hoped that it was for the best. Perhaps it has made me a little more... human.’ He smiled ironically at the word. Charles’ hand rose unbidden, and he had to stop himself from placing it on Erik’s arm.
‘So what did you do?’ he asked instead. Erik took a deep breath and continued his story.
‘Only two remained truly loyal to me,’ he explained. ‘Mystique and Emma Frost. We planned it for a long time. Then at one assembly, when everyone was present, Mystique made a scene. She stood up and taunted me, called me a cowardly leader and an unsatisfying lover. She explained to everyone present how Charles was twice the leader I was - and Beast twice the man.’ Hank looked away, embarrassment making him shake. ‘Then she stormed out, and I followed.’
‘And when Magneto returned, no-one suspected that it was really Mystique,’ Charles concluded. Erik nodded.
‘She changed into me and took my cape and helmet. Not even Frost could tell us apart then. They searched the woods for Mystique, but settled on that she had defected to the school, just as we had wanted them to.’
‘And then what?’ Charles asked. ‘How did the plan continue?’
‘You already know my part of the plan. After leaving the Brotherhood, I made my way to the school. I knew that you might reject me - if you had, I am not certain what I had done. But you welcomed me back - I don’t think I ever told you how grateful I was for that.’ Charles could not help but smile at that. Then he returned to the matter at hand, and asked:
‘And the Brotherhood?’ Erik smiled morbidly.
‘You never gave her credit for it, but Mystique is a brilliant actress. It is not only by virtue of her shapeshifting abilities either. We decided that after I had left, she was to act out, in front of the entire Brotherhood, my descent into madness. Magneto had a reason, of course - he had just lost his right-hand woman to his enemies. So he was to become more and more unpredictable and paranoid - Mystique would feign illness, drunkenness, insanity. Together, with a combination of acting and psychic manipulation, she and Frost would start dissolving the Brotherhood. Hopefully, people would be persuaded to leave. Those who did not could be easily despatched. It would take little more than a drunken outburst from their leader. Mystique has become a quite excellent knife-thrower. It was perfect.’ Hank looked away, as if nauseated by the story. Alex and Sean looked equally disgusted. Charles kept his eyes on Erik.
‘But it didn’t work,’ he concluded gravely. Erik sighed.
‘True. Something went wrong.’
‘What do you think did?’
‘She may have been found out,’ he suggested, ‘and forced to stage this.’
‘She didn’t sound like she was being coerced on that tape,’ Charles pointed out.
‘It is only one possibility,’ Erik agreed. ‘The other obvious explanation is that she has changed her mind, and is acting a strong leader, instead of a mad one, for reasons which are her own.’
‘How did she feel about this plan?’ asked Charles. ‘It would have put her in great risk. Even if she took your form, she would not have your powers. Besides, she can’t keep one form for more than about twelve hours. Then she must revert to her natural form for a while.’
‘Mystique was aware of that it would not be easy, but she was willing to do it,’ Erik answered.
‘And the fact that it would be taking on another disguise did not bother her?’ he asked. For a moment, Erik looked uncertain.
‘I think she liked the excitement of it. In the past, she had mostly done infiltration work, so this was a way of taking a more active role within the Brotherhood. She certainly has leadership potential - this was an excellent opportunity to use it.’
‘And the ideological implications?’
‘You mean, what side did she take?’ Charles nodded. Erik smiled, as if he felt sorry for him. ‘I’m sorry, Charles, but she was more convinced of our cause than even I was.’
‘Then perhaps she took up the fight herself,’ Charles said. ‘Perhaps she felt that you were too kind, and she could do it better...’
‘Listen to yourselves,’ Hank exclaimed suddenly. They both turned to look at him; Charles was surprised to realise that their discussion had made also him forget that the children were there. ‘You sound like you’re enjoying this. This is Raven we’re talking about! Your sister!’
‘She has not been Raven for a long time, Hank,’ Erik said. Beast simply shook his head and left the room, footsteps heavy enough to make the furniture shake. Charles sighed at the outburst and drew his hand through his hair. He heard Erik rising.
‘I promise you, Charles, that I knew nothing of this.’ He nodded, because he knew it was the truth.
The distant sound of the telephone was heard.
‘Excuse me,’ Charles said and wheeled himself towards the door, trying to make it look like he was not escaping. ‘We’ll continue this later.’
***
Around five o’clock, the phone calls stopped. Leaving Sean to guard the telephone in case it rang again, Charles headed out to the rose garden. He needed the silence of that place now to clear his head. Winter was approaching, and it was cold even with an extra jumper on. There were barely any roses left on the bushes, but the circular garden still kept its sanctuary-like calm.
Charles could not really figure out what he felt. It must be the shock of it. The attack was so close to home - physically, because of the proximity with the mansion, and personally, because his sister, masquerading as his lover, was the ringleader. He had thought of entering Mystique’s mind through Cerebro, but then he remembered that Erik had mentioned handing over the helmet, so it would not be possible. Equally, he could not enter Emma Frost’s mind without her noticing, and he did not want her to know that Erik had told them the truth, in case it would stir some ill-will towards him. In the end, he had toured the minds of the other members of the Brotherhood. He had found no implication that they knew that their leader was in disguise. Instead, he had seen the devastation of the gas works and the blaze of the explosions, and felt their mixed awe and joy and fear at the destruction they had caused.
However much he tried, Charles could not predict what the political repercussions would be. He prayed that Erik was wrong in his ominous predictions, but it would certainly make things more difficult for mutants. Even if the government took no action, people would use it as another reason for intolerance. That would in itself compromise the school. Of course, it was not generally known what kind of students they had at the school, but there was always the risk that it would be revealed. And what awaited them then? Protests, stone-throwing, arson? Recruiting new students would become more difficult even if they were not exposed. It was difficult enough now to turn up at someone’s doorstep and try to explain to them that the reason why their child was acting strangely was because he or she was a mutant. If the climate got worse, it would be a bigger challenge yet.
Raven’s motivations remained obscured to him. After all, he had not met her for two years - indeed, he still thought of her by a name which she no longer used. Had it been like Erik had suggested, that she simply decided to take up the fight when he decided to leave it, or was it more complicated? Charles could think of many reasons why it might be. Perhaps this was a kind of indirect revenge. By making threats and appearing at the attack when in the form of Magneto, she had ensured that Erik was a wanted man, and this was more dramatic than any of the Brotherhood’s previous coupes. Still now, Charles could see the pillar of smoke from the destroyed gas works. It was a perfect way of punishing him, if she felt any bitterness at his leaving; that he had done so would mean an unambiguous end to the sporadic affair they had had. Besides, if she knew of Erik’s attraction to her brother, which he assumed she did, this was also a way of harming Charles. She would understand the distress it would cause him, and more concretely, that it would threaten the school. That the attack was in Bedford and not some more important city showed that they had kept the location of the mansion in mind. Not only would it scare the students and teachers - it would arouse the suspicions of the locals and draw the attention of the police their way.
And what of Erik? The whole story of his defection from the Brotherhood threw new light on his intentions of coming here. It convinced Charles that, despite that Erik still kept his ideological convictions, he was sincere. This new information had also shown just how badly he had wanted to leave. It had not been a whim, but something had spent months on, finding allies, making an intricate plan, putting both himself and others at risk. Charles knew that had he been less observant of his self-imposed rule of not reading a person’s mind without their permission, he would have known about the swap. Even if Erik had known nothing about this attack and had simply assumed that the plan of dissolving the Brotherhood was going ahead as he had planned, they might have been able to do something to stop it...
There was the sound of gravel shifting, not under the soles of shoes but bare feet. Emerging from his thoughts, Charles caught sight of Hank, hovering at the entrance to the garden.
‘Hank,’ he said and tried to muster a smile. ‘Come closer.’ Hank stepped forward, but his face, which was usually so complaisant, was rigid with anger. It took a moment for him to find his voice.
‘He’s turned her into a mass-murderer.’ Charles looked up, surprised.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Raven wouldn’t do this,’ he said. There was a slight tremble in his words, where he was trying to control the beastlike rage which he was capable of. ‘She is a sweet, kind girl, she wouldn’t...’ Charles sighed.
‘It’s rather more complicated than that, I’m afraid, Hank.’ He exhaled violently and looked up at the sky. It was rapidly getting darker. Then he stared down in the gravel and swallowed.
‘She couldn’t have known, you know, Professor.’
‘Known what?’ Charles asked, but Hank’s sudden embarrassment made it obvious.
‘When she said that I...’ He broke off. ‘That I was twice the man Erik was. We never... I’ve never...’
‘It’s alright, Hank,’ Charles said softly, feeling a wave of compassion for the young man, who one moment was worrying that the girl he crushed on had turned into a terrorist and the next fretted about still being a virgin.
‘Why did he make her do it?’ Hank exclaimed, anger returning after the sudden confidence. It sounded almost like a roar.
‘Erik did not have anything to do with this,’ Charles told him. ‘I can assure you of that. You heard his explanation - he wanted to dissolve the Brotherhood. That it’s grown stronger is not his doing.’
‘I know I should believe you, professor, but...’ He shook his head defeatedly. ‘It’s just that... it could have been her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Raven could have returned,’ he said. Something misguidedly hopeful had lit up in his eyes. ‘She should have returned. Not Erik.’ With sudden force, Charles felt the resentment against himself, which Hank would never voice. Even if he had not understood how well the parallel worked, Hank was aware that it had been Charles who had been granted his friend back, not he. Briefly, Charles wondered if that was the kind of wound which would close, but never quite stop aching. If he were not careful, that anger would always lie between them.
Shaking his head slowly, he smiled at him compassionately.
‘I do not think Raven will ever change her mind,’ he said softly. ‘She felt out of place, even with us. To her, our solution was not possible. And I am as sorry for that as you are.’ Hank hung his head, knowing the professor was right but not wanting to admit it. He and Raven were stuck on different sides of the battle-line, both outcasts because of their appearance. He was content to hide away and indulge himself in his science. She refused to hide even her nakedness. A part of him resented that, but another was jealous at Raven’s stubbornness. That part of him wished that he too could feel that no-one had any reason or right to stop and gawp at his blue skin and fur. He should not have to hide inside or cover it all up - he should even be allowed to walk with his hands in the ground if he wanted to. However much people stared or called him an ape, they should never be right. But that insight did not change that he did not want to be that person - he wanted to be normal. He wanted to look like any other white kid his age, not like something out of a sideshow. Not only that, but he wanted Raven - the blonde, brown-eyed Raven - to share that experience of normality with him. The greatest irony of it all was that he had ruined that opportunity for himself in an attempt to safeguard it. Charles reflected that that kind of thing was far too common around here.
‘Heartbreak is never easy,’ Charles said. ‘Unfortunately, the only cure is time.’
‘There’s too many things time doesn’t cure,’ Hank sighed and left, his mind still on Raven.
***
Once Charles returned to his office, he could not find the peace of mind to work. Instead, he had settled by the piano and caressed the ivory lightly, hoping it would distract him. When the door opened, he did not look up, knowing already who it was. Erik hovered in the doorway for a moment. Then without a word, he stepped in, closed the door and sat down beside him.
They sat in silence for a long time, not looking at each other. It was Charles who finally spoke.
‘I can’t help feeling it’s my fault.’
‘If anyone should feel that, it should be I,’ Erik answered.
‘You didn’t know,’ Charles said quietly.
‘Neither did you.’
‘I should have,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve been too busy playing school-master to keep track of the sinister world outside.’ Slowly, he spread his hands and played a cord. Anticipating his actions, Erik reached for the pedal, and the sound remained, hovering between them.
‘You should never underestimate what you do here, Charles.’ Charles snorted. We teach children basic physics and Schiller and the Civil War, and how not to accidentally kill people with their powers. But is it really enough? He let his hand move over the keyboard to find another cord. Erik mirrored him, and started picking out a slow melody.
‘Do you know who Herschel Grynszpan was, Charles?’ he asked, eyes on the keyboard.
‘No,’ Charles answered. ‘Someone you knew?’ Erik shook his head, and explained.
‘He was a Polish Jew, who grew up in Weimar, and then moved to France. In 1938, when he was seventeen, he learnt that his family had been deported back to Poland. As revenge, he shot a German diplomat.’ The melody he played grew disjointed and dissolved into unlinked cords. ‘The Nazis used it as an excuse for the Kristallnacht.’ His hands came to rest on the keys. It took a moment for Charles to find his voice.
‘You mean that something like that might happen.’
‘Whatever the immediate consequences of this attack, it will make the situation for mutants worse,’ Erik explained. ‘Perhaps even insufferable.’
‘I’m rather afraid you’re right,’ Charles sighed. The likeness of events was by no means perfect, he reflected, but he had a point. He could feel Erik’s fear for the repetition of history reverberating through him, and in an attempt to distract himself he tried to pick out the melody Erik had played before, which he had not known. The search for the right tones continued for a long time, until he asked:
‘Do you think we could ever be happy?’ For the first time since he entered, Erik looked hm in the eye.
‘“We”?’
‘You and I,’ Charles explained and looked away again. His hand flattened against the keys. Erik’s rose to cover it. ‘I imagined that everything bad would suddenly disappear,’ he said, laughing at his own foolishness. ‘As if those first two weeks would last forever. I thought that this was the missing bit of the puzzle...’ He shook his head. ‘How could I have been so naive?’ Erik took his hand properly.
‘I think any hope for true happiness disappeared long ago,’ he answered softly. Charles swallowed. Today had been too emotional. ‘It does not mean this is not worthwhile.’ He nodded.
‘No, of course not.’ Erik took to drawing his thumb up and down the back of his hand slowly. It was easier than speaking. ‘You could never go back to the Brotherhood,’ Charles observed. ‘If you do and tell them the truth, they will have no respect for you. Even if you claimed that it was all a test of their loyalties, they would hate you. If you simply swap back and Mystique pretends to be the one who returns, they would lynch her.’
‘Quite possibly,’ Erik agreed gravely.
‘All that for this,’ Charles whispered. The grip around his hand grew almost painful.
‘It is worth it,’ Erik said, emphasising every word. ‘It is worth everything.’
‘Even those people who died today?’ Charles wondered and looked him in the eye. He did not flinch at the question. ‘Do you even care?’
‘It is worth even that.’ He tried to look away, but Erik stopped him, grabbing his chin and making him meet his eyes. ‘Charles, you must stop doubting me.’
‘It’s not you I’m doubting,’ he assured him. ‘Your loyalty to me is unquestionable. Whatever happens to us, between us, you will still keep part of that love - whether it is a sapling, or a shard, you would never throw it away. Love is too precious for you.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I doubt myself, and those around us. Not an hour ago, Hank came to see me, and I could feel how he resented me because it was you, not Raven, who had come back. What if he knew, Erik? About us? How much worse would not that resentment be? Would he stop at just thinking it? And even if he did, he - all of them - would despise us. Me. And I would feel it - every moment.’ As he spoke, Erik had let go of his hand and traced his arm up to his shoulder, until he stopped at the nape of his neck, where his hand came to rest, tenderly entangled in the hair. ‘And then the parents - everyone else...’ He drew his hand over his sweaty brow, trying to compose himself. ‘It all escalates, all that hate building up, because of all those reasons... I don’t know if I’m fit as a teacher, Erik.’
‘You are the finest teacher there ever was.’
‘Don’t say things like that just because you think I need to hear it,’ Charles said. Even if he did not see his face, he was aware that Erik was smiling.
‘You know full well that I meant it.’ Charles turned to look at him now. Even the short distance between them suddenly felt painful, and he leaned closer to kiss him.
They melted into each other. Their tongues slipped and their lips rubbed together as they took hold of each other’s heads, desperate to keep close. For a short moment, Charles forgot everything, and a form of content settled instead. As soon as their mouths no longer touched, the worries came back, but the kiss made him feel a little better. Concentrating to share the images with him, Charles imagined what they might do after dinner - a glass of scotch, a game of chess, a session of lovemaking. Erik nodded. As if to seal the deal, they kissed again, slower now.
They let go of each other, but remained side by side at the piano. Charles noticed how Erik tried to put his thoughts into words, in an attempt to explain that what had happened was not his fault, and that (possibly ironic when coming from him), dwelling on it would not undo anything. Nevertheless, he did not speak. Charles started to pick out Mozart’s eighth piano sonata, as Erik pushed down the pedals for him. The sonata was a soft, hesitant piece, which weighed between the calm and the melancholy. It suited Charles’ mood, even now when Erik leaned over and pressed his lips against his temple. Only twice did the melody darken, and its true disposition was obvious, but for the most part, it was the sound of someone who got by on frail hope.
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 7251
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?
‘I don’t understand what goes on in the mornings anymore,’ Hank admitted. The breakfast preparations, at least, were the same as they had always been. He had just finished helping Alex with putting out enough porridge and jam and bread and orange juice to feed the students, and was working on the teachers’ cooked breakfast.
‘Is that because you haven’t worked out a formula or something for frying eggs?’ Alex asked and lit a cigarette under the kitchen fan. Hank took it from his hand and crushed it in the sink.
‘No,’ he answered, feeling annoyed. ‘I just wonder why people’s habits have changed so suddenly. When he first came here, Erik would always go running before breakfast. Now, he does it after classes. Also, I think he used to walk around in the house in the night...’
‘...Because he’s a creep,’ Alex concluded.
‘The point is that he doesn’t do it anymore,’ Hank explained. He was not entirely certain why he was talking to Alex about this, but he had to vent for someone, and Sean probably had not noticed any of it. ‘And then there’s the professor...’ Alex laughed.
‘You’re just jealous because he’s obviously getting more than any of us others,’ he said. ‘Not that getting more than you is much of an achievement.’ Ignoring the jibe, Hank asked:
‘But Alex, whom is he...?’
‘Fucking,’ Alex suggested.
‘I was going to go for something a little less explicit.’
‘Don’t ask me,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It must be someone living nearby. I mean, there’s no-one at the school it could be. Sean and I reckon she’s getting in through the tunnel...’
‘Overly complicated,’ Hank pointed out. ‘It just doesn’t make proper sense. I mean, he must have met this girl in some way, and he barely ever leaves the grounds. Something’s not right...’ He broke off at the noise form the upper floor. Even Alex, whose hearing was not as acute, sighed.
‘And there goes the bedsprings,’ he muttered. ‘You know, there’s an easy way of finding out who it is.’
‘Are you suggesting barging in?’ Hank asked, feeling his face going hot.
‘We wouldn’t have to - we could just wait outside the door and see who comes out.’
‘If you’re right about the whole tunnel idea, what says that there isn’t a hidden door in the master bedroom?’ Alex shrugged, defeated. He weighed from one foot to the other and then asked:
‘Hey, Beast, how does he... y’know?’
‘What?’ Hank said, intent on flipping the eggs.
‘I was just thinking, with the prof’s spine. I mean, can he still...?’
‘Alex Summers, you should have your brain cleaned with bleach!’ Alex sniggered and took out another cigarette. ‘You’re not smoking that in here,’ he told him, glad for the distraction. ‘Tobacco is very harmful, you know. There’s been studies. I keep trying to tell people...’
‘It can’t be dangerous,’ Alex snorted and crossed to the window. ‘You’re just trying to ruin other people’s fun. If you’re going to be such a pain in the arse, I’ll lean out of the window to smoke it.’ Cigarette already between his lips, he opened the window. He struck the match at the same moment as the explosion.
It was a sudden loud roar, which made Alex back away and Hank grab the cupboards, afraid that they might fall down. They exchanged looks, their usual antagonism gone and replaced by the efficiency of battle. Having had a moment to analyse the sound, Hank realised that it was not close at all. When he looked out of the window, he saw a pillar of smoke in the distance. Alex stopped by his side, watching the flames which were sprouting.
‘What the hell just happened?’
***
When there was a knock on the door to the study, Charles was glad for the distraction. This morning had not been productive so far, but he did not know what unsettled him so. Perhaps it had been the explosions in the morning - even if it was only an accident, it was not pleasant, and maybe the fact that it had interrupted a spontaneous morning tryst was part of it too. Erik had of course assumed that it was an attack, and when they had found out that it was an fire at the nearby gas-works, going back to bed had not seemed like an option.
Now, when Susanna entered the room, carrying the loaded tea-tray, he put the cap on his pen and said:
‘You’re a darling, Susanna. Just what I needed.’ He moved over to the table by the French windows and asked: ‘You’re between classes, aren’t you?’ Susanna put down the tea-tray and nodded. ‘Won’t you have some tea with me?’ She blushed scarlet, but sat down, her shoulders tense and her smile expectant.
‘Thank you, professor,’ she said, when he handed her the teacup. Charles could not help feeling pleasure at having their roles reserved for once, so that he could do a practical chore for her. On occasion, being an imposing headmasterly figure was tedious.
‘Did you hear the bang this morning?’ he wondered as he poured himself a cup.
‘Yes, I did,’ she said, at once excited. ‘Just when I was getting ready for breakfast. What was it?’
‘On the radio, they said that a fire had broken out in the gas works in Bedford,’ Charles explained. ‘It’s about ten miles away, so there’s nothing really to worry about.’
‘But it must have been huge,’ she said, sounding awed. He nodded.
‘Yes, quite possibly. I’m sure I’ve heard some smaller explosions since,’ he said. ‘I just hope that they evacuated in time.’ Then, leaving the topic of local news, he gave her a fatherly smile and asked: ‘So how are your classes, Susanna?’ The girl put down the cup on the saucer and said:
‘Wonderful.’
‘You’re taking German, aren’t you?’
Both German and French,’ she admitted, looking both proud and a little embarrassed at the same time. Charles nodded sagely; he had already known that.
‘How are you finding it, then? All that grammar to be learnt?’
‘French is easier,’ she said with a shrug, ‘but we haven’t gotten as far. I don’t think the French group is very good at languages.’ That had been what Erik had said too, Charles remembered.
‘And what about your German classes? What are you reading?’ he asked tentatively.
‘Schiller,’ she said and lit up. ‘I love Schiller. We read An die Freuden last time, and it’s so beautiful.’
‘I haven’t read it,’ Charles admitted.
‘Oh, you should, sir,’ she said, and then stopped. ‘Although I don’t know if you know German.’
‘I do, but it’s a little patchy,’ he told her, not untruthfully. ‘I’m sure that Mister Lehnsherr would give me some pointers.’ Susanna smiled at the name, as if by Pavlovian association.
‘I - I enjoy Mister Lehnsherr’s classes very much,’ she said, her embarrassment at finding herself admitting it making her trip over her words.
‘It’s wonderful what an inspiring teacher can do,’ Charles said simply, and slipped into Susanna’s mind briefly. The unorthodox class which had upset Jason so much had certainly made an impression on her, but even if it had shaken her, it had only left her impressed at Erik’s power with words. She and Betsy, the young British psychic, had talked about it, and it had only made them respect him more. So passionate, had been Susanna’s dreamy conclusion. It calmed him that the incident, now almost two weeks away, was losing its strength so rapidly, both with her and with other students whose minds he had read. Another side of him was aware of that that made him something of a coward, unwilling to face the problems which were real, but he invoked the safety of his students as his main argument in the debate with himself.
He was just going to ask Susanna about her plans for the future, when there was a sharp knock on the door and Sean, closely followed by Hank, entered.
‘Professor, you should hear this,’ he said and crossed to the radio. Susanna looked around, bewildered at their abrupt entrance. Charles watched Sean finding the right settings on the radio, feeling his heart sinking. They were projecting loudly enough for him to know already what was happening.
‘...a truly devastating event. A tragedy.’
‘Thank you for those comments. As we reported before this interview, previous statements that the explosions at the Bedford Gas Works were accidental have been refuted by police, who have made a statement that just before the explosions, a tape with threats against the gas works as well as several other targets in New York state was delivered to the police. In light of this, the explosions, which this far have left twenty-three employees dead and several more injured, are being treated as an attack from mutant terrorists. The death count is expected to rise. Now, to our other news...’
Sean turned the volume down and they looked at each other.
‘Susanna, I think you should go and work on your Schiller,’ Charles said kindly. She looked like she was going to argue for a moment, that familiar argument of “I’m old enough to know” not far away, but then she nodded and left reluctantly. When the door closed behind her, Charles let out a sigh.
‘What do we do?’ Hank asked.
‘We could go over there,’ Sean suggested. ‘It’s so close - we could be suited up in no time...’
‘No, under no circumstances,’ Charles told him sharply.
‘But...’
‘If they suspect mutant involvement, they won’t be able to tell us from them,’ he explained. ‘It’s better that we stay out of it.’ He considered the situation, and then said: ‘This is what we do. Assemble the children - explain what’s happened. There will be parents calling, but I’ll deal with them. We do nothing else until the one o’clock news. Then, we assess the situation, and I will collect more information using Cerebro.’
‘Shouldn’t be find out what’s going on first?’ Sean asked.
‘No, the professor’s right,’ Hank interrupted.
‘If it appears that we know more than what’s on the radio, that will make people very suspicious,’ Charles explained. ‘It’s close enough that we can see the smoke - people will assume we’ve got something to do with it. We wait.’
As if to illustrate that the conversation was over, the telephone on his desk rang.
‘Excuse me,’ Charles said and wheeled over to it. ‘I seem to have some upset parents to deal with.’
***
The wait until the one o’clock news was excruciating. There was no time for a proper lunch. Instead, they ended up eating in Charles’ study, sitting on the couch and in armchairs, as the headmaster continued trying to calm down the various parents who were calling. Roberto’s mother wanted to take home her son, and it took over half an hour to talk her out of the decision. Charles was not so successful with Tabitha’s parents, who assumed that there was a connection between the school and the attack and demanded to pick up their daughter the next day.
‘We’ll tell her this afternoon,’ Charles told the others. ‘They may yet change their minds.’ Still, it did not seem very likely. For not the first time since Sean had burst in and turned the radio on, he wished Erik was there. He had only seen him briefly between phone-calls, just before the assembly, and they had not had time speak. They had simply shared a glance, mutual worry passing between them before their respective tasks had called them. During lunch, Erik had kept the students company, and Charles had sensed that he wished he had been in the study with the other teachers. More than once, he had considered calling him with his mind, telling him to come. He needed him by his side, quiet and composed at his shoulder, for support and encouragement. For a moment, he imagined Erik standing beside him and placing his hand over his on the desk. Thinking about it made it feel worse.
When they moved over to the television room, Charles pointed out:
‘Someone should get Erik.’
‘What about the kids?’ Sean asked. He very nearly said that Sean could watch the students instead, but he realised that that was not an acceptable answer, so he simply murmured something vague and let it go.
They were a few minutes early for the broadcast, but soon enough the picture of the grave news anchor appeared.
‘Good afternoon. Our leading story today is the mutant attack on the gas works in Bedford, New York State. The attack has this far has claimed twenty-seven lives and injured dozens, both of employees at the gas works and from the surrounding area, as well causing extensive damage on property and infrastructure. Reinforcements of police and fire-fighters have been sent in. Reports of the army having been called in have not yet been confirmed. Police has released parts of the tape which was sent to Bedford police station just before the first explosions to the public.’
The anchor disappeared, and in his place was a grainy, black-and-white picture of a seated figure. The beginning of the recording must have been cut, because the image was frozen for a second. It was long enough for Charles to recognise the odd helmet the figure wore. Cold sweat started to gather under his collar. His throat went dry. A dark, solemn voice he knew so well came from the television set.
‘We will show no mercy. We will show no humility. If humankind is not prepared to accept the end of their reign, then it is our duty to wrench the sceptre from their hands. We shall stop at nothing to gain what is rightfully ours.’
‘My God,’ Hank murmured. Charles became aware of them all looking his way.
‘You let this man into our house,’ Sean said disbelievingly. ‘You sheltered him...’
‘Something’s not right,’ Charles said, half to himself.
‘Damn right it isn’t,’ Alex said. Panic and anger made his voice shake. ‘We left the kids with him.’
‘No, with the recording,’ Charles said, his own voice not quite steady either. ‘Can’t you hear it? This is an old recording. His accent’s changed since he came here - it’s not as strong on this tape...’
‘So they recorded it before he left, and then he went here to give himself an alibi,’ Alex retorted. ‘Professor, he’s had you on - all this has been a plot. I kept saying there was something odd with all this...’ Charles shook his head, not wanting to hear his objections. He had wondered why Erik had returned, of course, but every time he had read his mind, there had been no deceit to be found. He did not think that Erik would be able to hide such a thing, even with the help of another telepath. Could it be that he had not gone deep enough - had he endangered the children by inviting him back? But why would the Brotherhood hide away their leader - after all, Charles had been with Erik when the explosion had happened. Self-consciously, he raised his hand and slipped his fingers under his collar to touch the mark on his throat. He wondered, if worst came to worst, whether he would have the courage to tell them how he could be so certain where Erik had been that morning.
The grainy picture was exchanged of that with the news anchor again.
‘Known mutant terrorists have been spotted at the scene of the attack, among them their ringleader, who goes under the name “Magneto”. An individual thought to be the same is wanted in several countries, among them Germany, Switzerland, Monaco and Argentina, on several charges, including murder, assault and fraud.’ Charles’ heartbeat stepped up. If Magneto had been there, there could only be one answer...
‘We are now joined by Senator Henry Gyrich. Welcome, Mister Gyrich. What do you think will be the direct consequences of this attack?’
‘Thank you for having me. Today is without a doubt a watershed in these issues. We have figures of well over thirty dead. Ignoring the situation will no longer be an option for the government. Both on a state and a federal level, officials must now take a firm stand on the mutant question...’
‘So we’re a question now.’ Charles looked up and felt his heart jump with mingled fear and relief. There stood Erik, not in helmet and cape but in suit and tie, not a warrior but a teacher, leaning against the doorway. ‘“The mutant question”,’ Erik repeated, walking slowly into the room, aware of everyone staring at him. No one was paying attention to the television anymore. He stopped a few feet from the professor and looked him in the eye. ‘They will find an answer to that question, Charles. This is how it starts.’ Charles swallowed.
‘Your arguments have lost their lustre, my friend.’ Erik lifted an eyebrow.
‘I did not wish for this to happen,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘It does not change the fact that is has.’
‘You could have changed it,’ Charles answered.
‘How?’ Finding no way to answer, Charles simply pointed to the television. The recorded threat was being played again.
‘We will show no mercy. We will show no humility.’ Erik did not lose control over his face, but his eyes darkened.
‘Well?’ Hank asked, getting to his feet. Alex moved to his side, and Sean rose too. The only thing between them and their target was Charles, his physical position a mark of his act as negotiator.
‘I knew it,’ Alex said. ‘Someone like him wouldn’t just change his mind and go good.’
‘It’s not that simple, Alex,’ Charles said, but did not look away from Erik. Even in this dire situation, as anger and disappointment mixed, he felt a glow of affection for him. He pushed it aside and concentrated on the situation in question. ‘First thing is first, Erik. You lied to me.’
‘Not by choice,’ he answered.
‘The Brotherhood did this,’ Charles stated, annoyed at how casual Erik sounded. ‘True or false?’ He was silent for a moment, and then conceded:
‘True.’
‘And you told me that the Brotherhood had been disbanded,’ he continued. Now, Erik shook his head.
‘I never said that. I simply did not mention their continued existence.’ Charles’ calm finally broke.
‘A lie of omission is still a lie!’ he shouted. Behind him, he was aware of the others jumping at him raising his voice. In front of him, Erik remained still, the only reaction a melancholic smile and an averted glance.
‘Yes, perhaps it was a lie,’ he admitted. ‘But it was you, Charles, who assumed that the Brotherhood had been disbanded, and it felt better not to correct you. I assumed that eventually, you would read that part of my mind, and you’d know the truth about my defection.’ Charles watched him, his disappointment and anger mixing with a resigned sense of gratitude for at least this truth.
‘So was it just you and Mystique, then?’ he asked.
‘Wha- Mystique?’ Hank repeated, startled.
‘Isn’t that right?’ Charles said, still looking Erik in the eye but pointed to the television. ‘You had never heard those words in your life.’ Now Erik chuckled, as if the situation had turned absurd.
‘Right as always, old friend.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Hank stuttered. ‘If he’s never heard them...’
‘Magneto on the tape sent to the police wasn’t Erik,’ Charles explained. ‘It was Raven. Wasn’t it?’ Erik nodded. ‘Then tell us everything.’
Erik drew a breath and sat down, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped.
‘I did not lie when I said that the Brotherhood had no chance of success,’ he began. He remained turned towards Charles, oblivious of the other mutants in the room. ‘Shaw’s old lackeys were an unpleasant crowd. They wanted little of mutant freedom, only freedom from authority - human or mutant. They were opportunists, only allied with Shaw because of what he could give them, and they grew more and more annoyed at the fact that I was not interested at giving them any comforts, but to have them fight for a cause I had expected we shared. The new recruits were unpredictable, bent on senseless destruction for no other reason than that they enjoyed it. They did not share my conviction. Few did. It had looked perfect to begin with, but in reality, we were caught up in constant arguments, even fights within our own ranks. To achieve what I wished for was not a realistic goal. It was a stillborn enterprise.’ Charles listened with his chin leaning against his hand, eyes not straying from Erik.
‘So you decided to leave,’ he filled in when he fell silent.
‘Yes, but it was not that simple,’ Erik explained. ‘I could not simply shed my mantle and hope that there would be an Elisha to take it up. But more and more often, I doubted the methods we had prescribed to. It did not scare the humans into submission, only made them more aggressive towards us. It was ineffective - dangerous, even.’
‘I thought that was what you wanted,’ Sean said, unconvinced. ‘You wouldn’t just give up wrecking destruction like that.’ Erik shot him a look, and when he answered, his voice had gained a fierce edge.
‘Do you really take me for such a monster?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you understand that I had grown tired of it all? I have spent my entire adult life pursuing a single goal, with no home, no family, no companionship. I thought that after...’ He paused briefly to control himself. ‘...after Shaw’s death, I could go back to that, despite what I... left behind. I was wrong. All I want now is what was always denied me.’ He sighed and turned to look at Charles for a moment. ‘I have lost my single-mindedness. I had hoped that it was for the best. Perhaps it has made me a little more... human.’ He smiled ironically at the word. Charles’ hand rose unbidden, and he had to stop himself from placing it on Erik’s arm.
‘So what did you do?’ he asked instead. Erik took a deep breath and continued his story.
‘Only two remained truly loyal to me,’ he explained. ‘Mystique and Emma Frost. We planned it for a long time. Then at one assembly, when everyone was present, Mystique made a scene. She stood up and taunted me, called me a cowardly leader and an unsatisfying lover. She explained to everyone present how Charles was twice the leader I was - and Beast twice the man.’ Hank looked away, embarrassment making him shake. ‘Then she stormed out, and I followed.’
‘And when Magneto returned, no-one suspected that it was really Mystique,’ Charles concluded. Erik nodded.
‘She changed into me and took my cape and helmet. Not even Frost could tell us apart then. They searched the woods for Mystique, but settled on that she had defected to the school, just as we had wanted them to.’
‘And then what?’ Charles asked. ‘How did the plan continue?’
‘You already know my part of the plan. After leaving the Brotherhood, I made my way to the school. I knew that you might reject me - if you had, I am not certain what I had done. But you welcomed me back - I don’t think I ever told you how grateful I was for that.’ Charles could not help but smile at that. Then he returned to the matter at hand, and asked:
‘And the Brotherhood?’ Erik smiled morbidly.
‘You never gave her credit for it, but Mystique is a brilliant actress. It is not only by virtue of her shapeshifting abilities either. We decided that after I had left, she was to act out, in front of the entire Brotherhood, my descent into madness. Magneto had a reason, of course - he had just lost his right-hand woman to his enemies. So he was to become more and more unpredictable and paranoid - Mystique would feign illness, drunkenness, insanity. Together, with a combination of acting and psychic manipulation, she and Frost would start dissolving the Brotherhood. Hopefully, people would be persuaded to leave. Those who did not could be easily despatched. It would take little more than a drunken outburst from their leader. Mystique has become a quite excellent knife-thrower. It was perfect.’ Hank looked away, as if nauseated by the story. Alex and Sean looked equally disgusted. Charles kept his eyes on Erik.
‘But it didn’t work,’ he concluded gravely. Erik sighed.
‘True. Something went wrong.’
‘What do you think did?’
‘She may have been found out,’ he suggested, ‘and forced to stage this.’
‘She didn’t sound like she was being coerced on that tape,’ Charles pointed out.
‘It is only one possibility,’ Erik agreed. ‘The other obvious explanation is that she has changed her mind, and is acting a strong leader, instead of a mad one, for reasons which are her own.’
‘How did she feel about this plan?’ asked Charles. ‘It would have put her in great risk. Even if she took your form, she would not have your powers. Besides, she can’t keep one form for more than about twelve hours. Then she must revert to her natural form for a while.’
‘Mystique was aware of that it would not be easy, but she was willing to do it,’ Erik answered.
‘And the fact that it would be taking on another disguise did not bother her?’ he asked. For a moment, Erik looked uncertain.
‘I think she liked the excitement of it. In the past, she had mostly done infiltration work, so this was a way of taking a more active role within the Brotherhood. She certainly has leadership potential - this was an excellent opportunity to use it.’
‘And the ideological implications?’
‘You mean, what side did she take?’ Charles nodded. Erik smiled, as if he felt sorry for him. ‘I’m sorry, Charles, but she was more convinced of our cause than even I was.’
‘Then perhaps she took up the fight herself,’ Charles said. ‘Perhaps she felt that you were too kind, and she could do it better...’
‘Listen to yourselves,’ Hank exclaimed suddenly. They both turned to look at him; Charles was surprised to realise that their discussion had made also him forget that the children were there. ‘You sound like you’re enjoying this. This is Raven we’re talking about! Your sister!’
‘She has not been Raven for a long time, Hank,’ Erik said. Beast simply shook his head and left the room, footsteps heavy enough to make the furniture shake. Charles sighed at the outburst and drew his hand through his hair. He heard Erik rising.
‘I promise you, Charles, that I knew nothing of this.’ He nodded, because he knew it was the truth.
The distant sound of the telephone was heard.
‘Excuse me,’ Charles said and wheeled himself towards the door, trying to make it look like he was not escaping. ‘We’ll continue this later.’
***
Around five o’clock, the phone calls stopped. Leaving Sean to guard the telephone in case it rang again, Charles headed out to the rose garden. He needed the silence of that place now to clear his head. Winter was approaching, and it was cold even with an extra jumper on. There were barely any roses left on the bushes, but the circular garden still kept its sanctuary-like calm.
Charles could not really figure out what he felt. It must be the shock of it. The attack was so close to home - physically, because of the proximity with the mansion, and personally, because his sister, masquerading as his lover, was the ringleader. He had thought of entering Mystique’s mind through Cerebro, but then he remembered that Erik had mentioned handing over the helmet, so it would not be possible. Equally, he could not enter Emma Frost’s mind without her noticing, and he did not want her to know that Erik had told them the truth, in case it would stir some ill-will towards him. In the end, he had toured the minds of the other members of the Brotherhood. He had found no implication that they knew that their leader was in disguise. Instead, he had seen the devastation of the gas works and the blaze of the explosions, and felt their mixed awe and joy and fear at the destruction they had caused.
However much he tried, Charles could not predict what the political repercussions would be. He prayed that Erik was wrong in his ominous predictions, but it would certainly make things more difficult for mutants. Even if the government took no action, people would use it as another reason for intolerance. That would in itself compromise the school. Of course, it was not generally known what kind of students they had at the school, but there was always the risk that it would be revealed. And what awaited them then? Protests, stone-throwing, arson? Recruiting new students would become more difficult even if they were not exposed. It was difficult enough now to turn up at someone’s doorstep and try to explain to them that the reason why their child was acting strangely was because he or she was a mutant. If the climate got worse, it would be a bigger challenge yet.
Raven’s motivations remained obscured to him. After all, he had not met her for two years - indeed, he still thought of her by a name which she no longer used. Had it been like Erik had suggested, that she simply decided to take up the fight when he decided to leave it, or was it more complicated? Charles could think of many reasons why it might be. Perhaps this was a kind of indirect revenge. By making threats and appearing at the attack when in the form of Magneto, she had ensured that Erik was a wanted man, and this was more dramatic than any of the Brotherhood’s previous coupes. Still now, Charles could see the pillar of smoke from the destroyed gas works. It was a perfect way of punishing him, if she felt any bitterness at his leaving; that he had done so would mean an unambiguous end to the sporadic affair they had had. Besides, if she knew of Erik’s attraction to her brother, which he assumed she did, this was also a way of harming Charles. She would understand the distress it would cause him, and more concretely, that it would threaten the school. That the attack was in Bedford and not some more important city showed that they had kept the location of the mansion in mind. Not only would it scare the students and teachers - it would arouse the suspicions of the locals and draw the attention of the police their way.
And what of Erik? The whole story of his defection from the Brotherhood threw new light on his intentions of coming here. It convinced Charles that, despite that Erik still kept his ideological convictions, he was sincere. This new information had also shown just how badly he had wanted to leave. It had not been a whim, but something had spent months on, finding allies, making an intricate plan, putting both himself and others at risk. Charles knew that had he been less observant of his self-imposed rule of not reading a person’s mind without their permission, he would have known about the swap. Even if Erik had known nothing about this attack and had simply assumed that the plan of dissolving the Brotherhood was going ahead as he had planned, they might have been able to do something to stop it...
There was the sound of gravel shifting, not under the soles of shoes but bare feet. Emerging from his thoughts, Charles caught sight of Hank, hovering at the entrance to the garden.
‘Hank,’ he said and tried to muster a smile. ‘Come closer.’ Hank stepped forward, but his face, which was usually so complaisant, was rigid with anger. It took a moment for him to find his voice.
‘He’s turned her into a mass-murderer.’ Charles looked up, surprised.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Raven wouldn’t do this,’ he said. There was a slight tremble in his words, where he was trying to control the beastlike rage which he was capable of. ‘She is a sweet, kind girl, she wouldn’t...’ Charles sighed.
‘It’s rather more complicated than that, I’m afraid, Hank.’ He exhaled violently and looked up at the sky. It was rapidly getting darker. Then he stared down in the gravel and swallowed.
‘She couldn’t have known, you know, Professor.’
‘Known what?’ Charles asked, but Hank’s sudden embarrassment made it obvious.
‘When she said that I...’ He broke off. ‘That I was twice the man Erik was. We never... I’ve never...’
‘It’s alright, Hank,’ Charles said softly, feeling a wave of compassion for the young man, who one moment was worrying that the girl he crushed on had turned into a terrorist and the next fretted about still being a virgin.
‘Why did he make her do it?’ Hank exclaimed, anger returning after the sudden confidence. It sounded almost like a roar.
‘Erik did not have anything to do with this,’ Charles told him. ‘I can assure you of that. You heard his explanation - he wanted to dissolve the Brotherhood. That it’s grown stronger is not his doing.’
‘I know I should believe you, professor, but...’ He shook his head defeatedly. ‘It’s just that... it could have been her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Raven could have returned,’ he said. Something misguidedly hopeful had lit up in his eyes. ‘She should have returned. Not Erik.’ With sudden force, Charles felt the resentment against himself, which Hank would never voice. Even if he had not understood how well the parallel worked, Hank was aware that it had been Charles who had been granted his friend back, not he. Briefly, Charles wondered if that was the kind of wound which would close, but never quite stop aching. If he were not careful, that anger would always lie between them.
Shaking his head slowly, he smiled at him compassionately.
‘I do not think Raven will ever change her mind,’ he said softly. ‘She felt out of place, even with us. To her, our solution was not possible. And I am as sorry for that as you are.’ Hank hung his head, knowing the professor was right but not wanting to admit it. He and Raven were stuck on different sides of the battle-line, both outcasts because of their appearance. He was content to hide away and indulge himself in his science. She refused to hide even her nakedness. A part of him resented that, but another was jealous at Raven’s stubbornness. That part of him wished that he too could feel that no-one had any reason or right to stop and gawp at his blue skin and fur. He should not have to hide inside or cover it all up - he should even be allowed to walk with his hands in the ground if he wanted to. However much people stared or called him an ape, they should never be right. But that insight did not change that he did not want to be that person - he wanted to be normal. He wanted to look like any other white kid his age, not like something out of a sideshow. Not only that, but he wanted Raven - the blonde, brown-eyed Raven - to share that experience of normality with him. The greatest irony of it all was that he had ruined that opportunity for himself in an attempt to safeguard it. Charles reflected that that kind of thing was far too common around here.
‘Heartbreak is never easy,’ Charles said. ‘Unfortunately, the only cure is time.’
‘There’s too many things time doesn’t cure,’ Hank sighed and left, his mind still on Raven.
***
Once Charles returned to his office, he could not find the peace of mind to work. Instead, he had settled by the piano and caressed the ivory lightly, hoping it would distract him. When the door opened, he did not look up, knowing already who it was. Erik hovered in the doorway for a moment. Then without a word, he stepped in, closed the door and sat down beside him.
They sat in silence for a long time, not looking at each other. It was Charles who finally spoke.
‘I can’t help feeling it’s my fault.’
‘If anyone should feel that, it should be I,’ Erik answered.
‘You didn’t know,’ Charles said quietly.
‘Neither did you.’
‘I should have,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve been too busy playing school-master to keep track of the sinister world outside.’ Slowly, he spread his hands and played a cord. Anticipating his actions, Erik reached for the pedal, and the sound remained, hovering between them.
‘You should never underestimate what you do here, Charles.’ Charles snorted. We teach children basic physics and Schiller and the Civil War, and how not to accidentally kill people with their powers. But is it really enough? He let his hand move over the keyboard to find another cord. Erik mirrored him, and started picking out a slow melody.
‘Do you know who Herschel Grynszpan was, Charles?’ he asked, eyes on the keyboard.
‘No,’ Charles answered. ‘Someone you knew?’ Erik shook his head, and explained.
‘He was a Polish Jew, who grew up in Weimar, and then moved to France. In 1938, when he was seventeen, he learnt that his family had been deported back to Poland. As revenge, he shot a German diplomat.’ The melody he played grew disjointed and dissolved into unlinked cords. ‘The Nazis used it as an excuse for the Kristallnacht.’ His hands came to rest on the keys. It took a moment for Charles to find his voice.
‘You mean that something like that might happen.’
‘Whatever the immediate consequences of this attack, it will make the situation for mutants worse,’ Erik explained. ‘Perhaps even insufferable.’
‘I’m rather afraid you’re right,’ Charles sighed. The likeness of events was by no means perfect, he reflected, but he had a point. He could feel Erik’s fear for the repetition of history reverberating through him, and in an attempt to distract himself he tried to pick out the melody Erik had played before, which he had not known. The search for the right tones continued for a long time, until he asked:
‘Do you think we could ever be happy?’ For the first time since he entered, Erik looked hm in the eye.
‘“We”?’
‘You and I,’ Charles explained and looked away again. His hand flattened against the keys. Erik’s rose to cover it. ‘I imagined that everything bad would suddenly disappear,’ he said, laughing at his own foolishness. ‘As if those first two weeks would last forever. I thought that this was the missing bit of the puzzle...’ He shook his head. ‘How could I have been so naive?’ Erik took his hand properly.
‘I think any hope for true happiness disappeared long ago,’ he answered softly. Charles swallowed. Today had been too emotional. ‘It does not mean this is not worthwhile.’ He nodded.
‘No, of course not.’ Erik took to drawing his thumb up and down the back of his hand slowly. It was easier than speaking. ‘You could never go back to the Brotherhood,’ Charles observed. ‘If you do and tell them the truth, they will have no respect for you. Even if you claimed that it was all a test of their loyalties, they would hate you. If you simply swap back and Mystique pretends to be the one who returns, they would lynch her.’
‘Quite possibly,’ Erik agreed gravely.
‘All that for this,’ Charles whispered. The grip around his hand grew almost painful.
‘It is worth it,’ Erik said, emphasising every word. ‘It is worth everything.’
‘Even those people who died today?’ Charles wondered and looked him in the eye. He did not flinch at the question. ‘Do you even care?’
‘It is worth even that.’ He tried to look away, but Erik stopped him, grabbing his chin and making him meet his eyes. ‘Charles, you must stop doubting me.’
‘It’s not you I’m doubting,’ he assured him. ‘Your loyalty to me is unquestionable. Whatever happens to us, between us, you will still keep part of that love - whether it is a sapling, or a shard, you would never throw it away. Love is too precious for you.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I doubt myself, and those around us. Not an hour ago, Hank came to see me, and I could feel how he resented me because it was you, not Raven, who had come back. What if he knew, Erik? About us? How much worse would not that resentment be? Would he stop at just thinking it? And even if he did, he - all of them - would despise us. Me. And I would feel it - every moment.’ As he spoke, Erik had let go of his hand and traced his arm up to his shoulder, until he stopped at the nape of his neck, where his hand came to rest, tenderly entangled in the hair. ‘And then the parents - everyone else...’ He drew his hand over his sweaty brow, trying to compose himself. ‘It all escalates, all that hate building up, because of all those reasons... I don’t know if I’m fit as a teacher, Erik.’
‘You are the finest teacher there ever was.’
‘Don’t say things like that just because you think I need to hear it,’ Charles said. Even if he did not see his face, he was aware that Erik was smiling.
‘You know full well that I meant it.’ Charles turned to look at him now. Even the short distance between them suddenly felt painful, and he leaned closer to kiss him.
They melted into each other. Their tongues slipped and their lips rubbed together as they took hold of each other’s heads, desperate to keep close. For a short moment, Charles forgot everything, and a form of content settled instead. As soon as their mouths no longer touched, the worries came back, but the kiss made him feel a little better. Concentrating to share the images with him, Charles imagined what they might do after dinner - a glass of scotch, a game of chess, a session of lovemaking. Erik nodded. As if to seal the deal, they kissed again, slower now.
They let go of each other, but remained side by side at the piano. Charles noticed how Erik tried to put his thoughts into words, in an attempt to explain that what had happened was not his fault, and that (possibly ironic when coming from him), dwelling on it would not undo anything. Nevertheless, he did not speak. Charles started to pick out Mozart’s eighth piano sonata, as Erik pushed down the pedals for him. The sonata was a soft, hesitant piece, which weighed between the calm and the melancholy. It suited Charles’ mood, even now when Erik leaned over and pressed his lips against his temple. Only twice did the melody darken, and its true disposition was obvious, but for the most part, it was the sound of someone who got by on frail hope.
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