Objects in Mirror
Title: Objects in Mirror
Rating: PG
Words: 4,670
Summary: AU in which, while Charles Xavier has just returned from Cuba, severed ties with the CIA and started setting up his school, Erik Lehnsherr is an entirely human engineer who's not remotely fond of mutants. Things are complicated when, in the absence of Hank, Charles hires Erik to build Cerebro Mk.2.
(This story is obviously already an AU insofar as Erik’s being human is concerned, but I think that, for society’s awareness of and prejudice against mutants to exist this early, the whole mutant phenomenon would have come to public attention much earlier than in canon. Otherwise, there are few differences: the events of First Class played out in roughly the same way, minus Erik.)
‘It’s rather an unusual project,’ Xavier says apologetically. ‘The technology involved is quite advanced, and not in common use. It has a…somewhat unique purpose, you could say.’
Erik steeples his fingers on the desk, which always seems to intimidate people, and might persuade the man in front of him, after ten minutes of small talk and prevarication, to come to the point. ‘Mr Xavier, I can’t build this “machine” for you without being told what it is.’
Xavier sighs. ‘What I’m about to tell you has to be kept strictly between us,’ he says. ‘If you told people about this, there would be substantial risk involved not only to me but to those in my care. I can’t overemphasise how important it is that this remain confidential.’
‘I understand,’ Erik says. ‘It won’t leave this room.’
‘I’m sure you’re aware of what’s commonly termed the “mutant problem”.’
‘Of course,’ Erik says. He pauses, and then says, ‘Do you work for the government?’
‘No,’ Xavier says. The edge of his mouth twists slightly in what could be a faint smile, or perhaps something entirely more bitter. ‘They’re not especially fond of people like me, these days.’
It clicks almost instantly, and immediately Erik’s good first impressions of the man, with his formal good manners, the unconscious smile on his face when he mentioned the school he’s in the process of opening - and, undeniably, the reflexive sympathy for anyone who comes into his office in a wheelchair - begin to unravel. He controls himself well enough not to physically draw away from the man, and says, with forced politeness, ‘Mr Xavier, I’m sorry to have wasted your time, but I’m not sure that I can help you with this project.’
Xavier bites his lip; there’s a sharp and sudden hurt in his blue eyes. All in all, he looks vastly unthreatening, but the man’s not human. God only knows what he could do to Erik if crossed. ‘Are you sure you’re - ’
'I don’t think we’re suited to work together,’ Erik says flatly.
Xavier closes his eyes for a few seconds, looking unfathomably tired. A random and unwelcome thought spikes into Erik’s head: the man must have had this conversation countless times, with countless people; all of them, abruptly turning against him. ‘Of course,’ he says wearily. ‘I completely understand. If there’s a fee for your time, Mr Lehnsherr…’
‘No charge,’ Erik says quickly. He wants to get the man - the mutant - out of his office as fast as possible.
Charles Xavier nods and thanks Erik politely, if with a sadness in his tone that he makes no attempt to hide, for his time on the way out. The mutant is out of the building by 12:07, and leaves Erik unsettled enough to get absolutely no work done for the rest of the day.
***
He forgets about it - tells himself that he has, and refuses to think any further about how close he came to one of them - for the next three weeks. He works on other projects, goes out on the weekends and gets slightly more drunk than he intends to, and on the first of March, as he does every month, leaves flowers at Edie Lehnsherr’s grave.
And then he comes into his office to find a message from the Xavier number. It’s a woman, this time: I know you already spoke to my brother about this, the machine says, in a smooth American accent which doesn’t sound at all compatible with Xavier’s cut-glass British, but we’ve really been having trouble finding an engineer for this project and I was hoping you might reconsider.
She makes hesitant mention of a few numbers which Erik can’t deny sound extremely appealing, and asks whether they could, have another appointment to discuss the commission.
Erik would like to say that he stands up for his principles, politely declines this second request and refuses to associate with them further; but, then again, money. It was clear almost immediately that Xavier was wealthy, but Erik’s vague estimates of payment, when he’d considered taking on Xavier’s mysterious project, had been at least one zero shorter. He’s under no illusions: these people haven’t been able to find an engineer willing to work with mutants without having money thrown at them, so they’ve decided to give up and pay whatever they have to.
He grits his teeth, thinks about the fast cars he’ll buy, and calls back. ‘Xavier residence.’
‘It’s Erik Lehnsherr.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, Raven called you, didn’t she?’ Xavier’s voice is a strained mix of relief and resignation. ‘I take it this means you’re willing to consider taking on our project?’
‘Consider it,’ Erik says stiffly. ‘I need to know more about this machine before I can give you an answer.’
‘Well, if you’d be prepared to drive out to my home to see the plans and blueprints and so on - ’
‘Do you think you could just tell me what this thing is over the phone?’ Erik snaps, and almost immediately regrets his own lack of professionalism, if nothing else.
Xavier sighs. ‘Fine. I’m a telepath.’
‘You’re a what - ’
‘I can read minds,’ he says brusquely. ‘It’s my mutation. The machine is a replacement of an older model which was destroyed some time ago. It keeps my telepathy in check so that I can live some semblance of a normal life. I’ve spoken to at least eight engineers and none of them were prepared to take on the project once I told them what I can do.’ His words are flat and mechanical; Erik supposes he’s had this conversation a few times before, as well. The quiet swell of sympathy surprises him, and perhaps it’s that which lets him swallow his pride and his principles and ask when he can come out to see the plans.
***
The house is huge; Erik travels what feels like a mile of driveway before the square structure of a large and rather lovely Elizabethan-style building comes into view. It’s even more impressive inside, antique and modern furniture from a variety of periods, all with the common note of expense.
He stops admiring the architecture, however, once he gets into Xavier’s study and sees the blueprints for what seems to have been a prototype of the machine he’s expected to recreate, which are far more extraordinary and probably worth about the same amount of money.
‘Who designed these?’ he has to ask, after several minutes of flicking through the papers spread over Xavier’s desk. ‘They’re like nothing I’ve ever seen.’
‘A friend,’ Xavier says. ‘He built the previous model himself, from scratch.’
‘Why don’t you have him build the replacement?’
‘He’s indisposed,’ Xavier says shortly. ‘Personal matters.’
Erik scrutinises a page more closely. ‘Are you sure you don’t work for the government? Some of the circuitry in here is…I wouldn’t have believed it possible.’
‘Definitely not.’
And there’s no question, now, that Erik will take the job; this strange machine with its network of electrodes and chemical components and impossibly complex microcircuitry - really, who could have designed something like this? - in the plate-lined spherical chamber it apparently needs to function is the most advanced technology he’s ever so much as imagined, much less had the opportunity to use, and no matter what he has to work with he could never turn this down.
‘You don’t like mutants, Mr Lehnsherr,’ Xavier says calmly, in a voice that nevertheless drags Erik’s attention away from the papers and down to the man at his side. ‘Can I ask why?’
‘It’s hardly an unusual view,’ Erik says curtly.
‘But surely you have personal reasons - ’
Erik puts down the sheet of paper in his hand, turns to face the man squarely. ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ he says coldly. ‘I don’t care if you’re a telepath or a psychic or whatever other little categories you mutants like to put yourselves in. Just stay out of my head. Or, I don’t care how much you pay me, I’ll walk out right now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Xavier says. ‘I suppose I should thank you for agreeing to take on this project despite your personal feelings.’
‘You don’t need to thank me,’ Erik says, which translates almost directly to I don’t want you to. He can feel the man’s presence at his side, the inhuman threat of him raising the hairs on Erik’s arms, but Xavier is looking at him with the kind of tired, apologetic smile it’s hard to be afraid of. Erik does what he should, and returns his attention to the plans.
***
‘It’s wonderful,’ Xavier says brightly as he wheels out onto the narrow landing Erik has built for access to the machine’s interface. The room carved out from under the Xavier mansion is huge, concrete-lined and dizzying in its vast emptiness. ‘I can’t tell you how delighted I am - Raven, come and see, will you.’
The tall blonde woman who was introduced on Erik’s second visit to the mansion as Raven Xavier unfolds herself reluctantly from where she’s leaning on the wall outside and steps through the door, looking around. ‘It’s very impressive, Mr Lehnsherr,’ she says coolly. She has the kind of soft features which are made to look cheerful, but he’s only seen her laughing when she talks to her brother; the smile on her face when she talks to Erik is small and obviously forced. He shook her hand the first time he spoke to her. The second time, she told him coolly that, yes, she was a mutant too - one of her eyes flickered yellow - and thereafter he avoided doing so again. He hasn’t spoken much to the two younger men Xavier referred to as Alex and Sean, but he assumes that they’re the same. He tries to keep his distance.
‘The plating on the inner walls should be done by Wednesday,’ Erik says, ‘and after I’ve seen to that, I’ll start building the more complicated machinery myself, since that’s the part you said was too confidential to hire contractors.’
‘Wonderful,’ Xavier says again, turning the chair to face Erik with a wide smile. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Mr Lehnsherr.’
Erik finds himself, to his own surprise as much as anyone’s, smiling genuinely back - full of pride in this achievement - and it’s difficult, sometimes, to keep his distance, when these people, despite the danger they pose, seem so obviously human.
***
‘Um, hello,’ is the first thing Xavier says when he opens the door, and then, ‘It’s, um, it’s eight a.m., I didn’t know you’d be here this early.’
‘I need to talk to you,’ Erik says shortly. ‘About the plans you gave me.’
‘Oh,’ Xavier says. ‘Yes, if you’ll come in, of course.’
Erik follows him to his study; Xavier wheels himself round to behind the desk, and smiles uncertainly at Erik. ‘Is there a problem? You’re not having trouble with the construction, are you?’
‘The problem,’ Erik says evenly, ‘is that I don’t like working with people who lie to me. And I don’t know much about neuroscience, but it looks to me like this mysterious device of yours is actually built to amplify brainwaves. Clear signals, strip out interference. Which doesn’t really square with what you told me this thing does. I think you said something about it suppressing your telepathy.’
Xavier closes his eyes and exhales heavily. ‘I was lying,’ he admits.
‘I’m well aware of that,’ Erik says caustically. ‘Do you want to tell me what the machine I’ve spent the past several weeks building is actually for?’
‘It amplifies my powers,’ Xavier says with clear reluctance. ‘Extends my range.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, you people and your - ’ Erik rakes a hand through his hair, nails scraping on his scalp. ‘This was a bad idea. I should never have agreed to work for you. You can pay me for what I’ve done so far and I’m leaving.’ He stops speaking when he realises that Xavier is staring at his arm; when Erik looks at him, he quickly averts his eyes from the stark line of numbers that Erik’s sleeve has fallen down to expose, returns his attention to Erik’s face, and very loudly restrains himself from saying anything.
Erik closes his eyes, breathes, then answers the question written on Xavier’s face with, ‘Auschwitz.’
‘My God,’ Xavier says quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Erik squares off the edges of some of the papers on Xavier’s desk, taps them into place.
‘I don’t want to…what you must have been through…’ Xavier is uncharacteristically hesitant, as people usually are when they see Erik’s childhood branded on his arm. Eventually, he continues, ‘But perhaps you can understand what it’s like to be hated - ’
‘Don’t you dare - ’
‘ - purely because of what you are - ’
‘No,’ Erik snaps before he even knows what he’s saying. ‘Don’t you dare bring that into your - You use what happened to me as an excuse for being - ’
‘I can’t help what I am,’ Xavier says sharply. ‘I’m a mutant, yes, I have powers most of the human race don’t, but I didn’t choose that, did I? I do not abuse my abilities, I have never once looked into your mind for all the time you’ve been working for me. I do everything I can to live responsibly. I won’t be blamed for something I was born with.’
‘You say you haven’t looked into my mind,’ Erik says coldly.
‘You don’t trust me?’
‘I don’t trust any of you,’ Erik says flatly. ‘People can’t be trusted with abilities like yours. You cannot give random members of the public superpowers and expect them not to use them against normal people.’
‘We can choose to use them for good,’ Xavier says with conviction.
‘You think everyone’s as altruistic as you are.’
Xavier smiles, a little. ‘You think no one is.’
‘You,’ Erik says firmly, ‘need to find a new engineer.’
‘Please, Erik, this project is important. I need this machine finished.’
‘Got to keep your powers in check, right?’
‘I’m sorry I lied to you, but that’s not the - ’
‘What makes you think you have the right to read people’s minds at all?’ Erik says sharply. ‘Let alone get an upgrade so you can do it even more easily?’
Xavier looks at the ceiling with a soft noise of exasperation. ‘The machine, Cerebro,’ he says, ‘it lets me find other mutants by - ’ he waves a hand, ‘tracking the slight differences in the signature of their brainwaves. I need it for the school.’
Erik frowns. ‘The school’s for - people like you?’
‘You think that mutants will abuse their powers, or lose control of them,’ Xavier says softly, warmth in his tone. ‘I want to teach them not to.’
***
Erik suppresses his doubts and throws himself into building Cerebro. He reads newspaper articles and hears stories about mutants who have burned down buildings with pyrokinesis, charmed people into handing over their wallets on the street, committed crimes against a populace as powerless to defend against their abilities as his mother was, and wonders why he even now is continuing with this project. Petty crimes and single murders are one thing; what Charles Xavier could do with his power does not bear thinking about, and Erik, building him a machine to exponentially increase the danger he poses to the world, is complicit.
But when he thinks not of the telepathic mutant, but of the genetics professor who talks about his school and the future with the warm light of faith on his face, he can’t quite believe in the catastrophes he pictures as he brings Cerebro’s blueprints to life in gleaming metal. If anyone can be trusted with power like this, strangely enough, it’s Charles Xavier.
And despite everything that happened, despite everything Erik knows about these people and what they do with their powers, he hears Xavier talk of the bright future he wants to build, the peaceful coexistence of mutants and humankind, and wants to believe him.
***
‘I don’t suppose you’d like to have dinner with us?’
It’s a casual request, as Xavier takes off the headset he’s been trying on, examining the electrodes on its underside. Out of his peripheral vision, Erik sees Raven roll her eyes. Unsurprising.
‘What?’
Xavier shrugs. ‘It’s a long drive home for you, isn’t it? You’re welcome to eat here first if it’s more convenient. Raven’s cooking tonight, so I can at least promise you that it will be edible.’
‘Charles,’ Raven says sharply, a quiet force behind the word.
Xavier looks up from the helmet, and they stare at each other for a few silent seconds. Erik feels oddly disconnected.
‘Raven, please don't,’ Xavier says warningly.
‘No, Charles,’ Raven says abruptly, and then - changes -
A wave of blue runs over her skin, though Erik can’t say where it starts, flickering into raised patterns and odd marks, amber eyes. Her hair is somehow shorter, and bright scarlet, and the whole process doesn’t take more than a second or two. Erik stares. He’s heard of mutants who wore their differences visibly, but nothing like this, this surreally bright, startlingly unnatural creature, standing where Raven Xavier was and wearing the same clothes. He stares at her, shocked into silence, caught between terrifying and beautiful.
‘Raven,’ Xavier says in a strangled voice, ‘we talked about this.’
‘I said I’d stay blonde and cute while he was here working,’ she retorts. She turns her head to Erik, antagonism glittering in the gold of her eyes. ‘If he’s going to be here socially, he can damn well put up with the way I really look.’
‘Mr Lehnsherr, I am so sorry,’ Xavier says emphatically. Anger flashes over Raven’s face, and he hurries to continue. ‘That’s not what I mean, Raven, come on. I’m not ashamed of you, but really, can you blame the man for being a little uncomfortable?’
‘Yes,’ Raven says, ‘it must be so difficult to be in the presence of someone who doesn’t look exactly like everyone else you see walking down the street.’
Xavier gives her a warning look, and there is a short silence, then:
‘It’s no more unfair than it is for him to hate me!’ Raven snaps; she spins on her heel and is out of the room before either of them react.
Xavier presses a hand to his forehead, kneading the skin there. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that,’ he says, sounding quietly mortified. ‘And, ah, sorry for Raven’s…My fault entirely, of course, I shouldn’t have…’
‘Um. Not at all,’ Erik says. ‘Is she really…’ There doesn’t seem to be a better word than ‘blue’.
‘Raven can change her appearance,’ Xavier says distractedly, wheeling his chair towards the door. ‘Take on other people’s. But that’s her natural form, yes. I’m sorry, I asked her to avoid showing it to you, since you…might be surprised…sorry, I’d better go after her.’
Erik thinks of Xavier cautiously suggesting that perhaps you can understand what it’s like to be hated, and Raven, seething with angry pride. ‘Where is she?’ he asks.
Xavier gives him a long, thoughtful look. ‘The library,’ he says. ‘Three doors down.’
***
Raven - still vibrantly blue - is by the window, looking out over the mansion’s grounds with her back to the door.
‘Excuse me,’ Erik says.
She spins round to face him; her face flashes with surprise, then settles into anger.
‘I’d like to apologise,’ Erik continues before she can say anything, trying not to sound stiff, ‘if I’ve offended you. I realise that some of my views on people of your abilities may have been unfair.’
She stays silent, glaring at him uncompromisingly.
‘That’s all,’ Erik says, before he turns to leave. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t impose on you by staying for dinner.’
‘Wait.’ He’s almost out of the door by that point, and she’s still standing there scowling at him, but as he moves back into the room she turns to look out of the window again. ‘Cerebro,’ she says. ‘The machine you’re building - it’s called Cerebro.’
‘I know,’ Erik says. ‘It’s astounding.’
‘The guy who built it,’ Raven says, ‘the first model, I mean, who designed all of it, he was the smartest person I ever met.’
‘I imagine he was,’ Erik agrees. ‘To create something like that.’
‘You wouldn’t have liked him.’
Erik pauses. ‘Was he…’
‘Mutant? Yes,’ Raven says heatedly, meeting his eyes. This close, he can see hers are flecked with darker gold, and burning with resentment. ‘He left because he was ashamed. Because he believed all the bullshit from people like you. So Charles had to hire a new engineer, of course, and we got one more scared, narrow-minded human to put up with.’
‘You think we’re not justified in being scared of you?’ Erik says, keeping his tone calm. ‘Think of the havoc someone like you could cause, with the…shape-shifting. Let alone someone like your brother. Or someone worse.’
‘We’re living here peacefully,’ Raven snaps. ‘I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. But I was afraid to go to school as a child, because of people like you.’
‘People like you,’ Erik says coolly, ‘killed my mother.’
It’s the first time he catches her off-guard. ‘What?’
‘She survived the Holocaust,’ Erik says, tasting the familiar bitterness in his mouth, ‘she got out of the death camps alive, and she tried to build a new life for us, and then one of you mutants killed her.’
Raven is still drawn up with angry tension, but it’s the sort of thing that has to be said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She bites her lip. ‘What happened?’
‘A man called Shaw,’ Erik tells her; it doesn’t occur to him to be offended by the question. ‘I read the police reports.’ Most of them had been blacked out. ‘He was after someone else. She just got in the way. He probably didn’t even notice.’
‘Shaw?’ Raven says, surprise clear in her voice.
‘Yes.’
‘Sebastian Shaw?’
Erik raises his eyebrows.
‘He’s dead,’ Raven says, with a quiet satisfaction.
‘What? How do you know?’
‘Charles killed him.’
There is a long, long pause. Erik is sure that he should say something, but the words aren’t there. He thinks of the grainy photo which is all he ever saw of Sebastian Shaw, Charles Xavier’s bland clothes and soft eyes and warm, unthreatening smile, and feels numb.
‘There was a fight,’ Raven says. He has the sense that this is important; that, God knows why, this woman who’s been glaring at him with silent resentment and frosty politeness for the last several weeks is confiding something deeply personal. ‘Shaw killed a friend of mine, and that’s when Charles ended up in the…’ She makes a vague gesture. There’s no need to finish.
‘Oh,’ Erik says, still slightly stunned. ‘I’m sorry.’
She dips her head, and says, ‘If you still want to, I’d be happy if you stayed this evening.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘No, really. You can meet Alex and Sean - ’ Raven closes her eyes for a second. ‘Alex cooked,’ she adds. ‘It’s nearly ready.’
Erik wonders what it’s like to hear someone else’s voice in your head; whether it’s something you get used to. What it’s like to feel your own body ripple and change.
‘Alright,’ he says.
***
Xavier looks up and smiles without a trace of surprise when Erik and Raven enter the room, and proceeds to introduce him to Alex Summers and Sean Cassidy, both of whom claim to be but don’t look particularly pleased to meet him. The Xavier dining room is large, wood-panelled and, like most of the mansion’s other rooms, has been the subject of vain attempts to make it look as though it isn’t the setting of a period drama. The table is at least twelve feet long, and has been set at only one end; the food, incongruously enough, is oven pizza.
There’s silence, at first, and Erik is perfectly aware that it’s down to him. He gathers his courage and asks, trying not to sound awkward, what Alex and Sean’s mutations are.
Alex looks up at him, still chewing, with a very teenage are you serious? look. Xavier rolls his eyes, and says, ‘Plasma blasts.’
‘I can scream at, like, super-high frequencies,’ Sean says vaguely. ‘Oh, and I can fly.’
‘Um, right,’ Erik says. ‘Plasma blasts?’
‘When I lose control,’ Alex says shortly, ‘I get these energy blasts. Things catch fire. People get hurt.’
‘Thank you, Alex,’ Xavier says warningly. ‘Speaking of flying, Sean, how did it go today?’
‘Two miles without landing,’ Sean says, and the conversation goes into Sean’s training. Xavier explains it, briefly, to Erik: he has some kind of wing contraption which allows him to ride sonic waves.
‘I’ll clean up,’ Raven says, at the end of the meal, ‘since you cooked for me.’
‘You better be grateful,’ Alex says, grinning, in a tone markedly less surly than anything else Erik has heard from him. Erik thanks everyone, awkwardly, for the meal, and drives home in slight confusion, replaying the conversation with Raven in his head. He doesn’t understand what the stilted meal invitation was for - an overture of friendship, an attempt to prove something - but Raven Xavier’s angry insistence strikes a chord with him.
He doesn’t sleep much, that night; lies awake spinning it all over and over in his head. The blurred pictures of the monster who killed his mother because she was only human, the bright memory of Raven, bizarre and beautiful and raging against a world which hates her, and Charles Xavier, who he’s somehow expected to believe killed a man. The headlines searing with black-and-white anger: Mutant Crime On Increase. The pictures used to slot together into an obvious conclusion. He doesn’t know, now, what to think.
***
Two days later, when he’s been working on Cerebro into the evening again, Xavier asks him whether he plays chess.
It turns out that Xavier’s quite good at it, but Raven, Alex and Sean refuse to play with him, and this is how Erik ends up trying to remember how the English opening goes in his study.
After five or ten minutes of innocuous conversation, Xavier slides a rook across the board, takes yet another of Erik’s pieces, and says, ‘Raven told me what you told her about your mother.’
Erik makes a move at random. ‘She told you, did she.’
‘I don’t read Raven’s mind,’ Xavier says mildly. ‘So, yes, she did.’
‘She said you killed Sebastian Shaw,’ Erik says quietly.
‘That’s not quite the full story.’
‘What happened?’
‘Raven and I got involved with the CIA search for him,’ Xavier says, ‘and the…missile crisis. Shaw was mixed up in that. Raven and I went to Cuba, and…You know what he can do, what his power is…I wanted to find a peaceful solution, but there was no way the government could have kept him contained.’ He picks up his queen, rolls it between his fingers. ‘I froze his mind and stopped him from defending himself while a CIA agent shot him,’ he says matter-of-factly.
Erik absorbs this. ‘You feel guilty.’
‘Of course I do.’
‘You shouldn’t,’ Erik says. ‘He was a monster. Raven said that that was when you were…’
‘Paralysed,’ Xavier says. ‘You can use the word. I won’t be offended.’ He puts down the queen. ‘But I don’t like to talk about that.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not at all.’
Erik looks at the board, considers his moves. He has maybe five or six left before checkmate; he hasn’t been paying much attention to the last few minutes of the game, and at this point it’s clearly only a matter of time. ‘Regardless of whether it’s what you wanted to do,’ he says. ‘Thank you.’ He flicks his king over with a finger: a concession, he thinks, he should have made earlier.