FIC: Build a Bridge and Get Over It (E/C, 3/3)
Build a Bridge and Get Over It, conclusion
*****
Sometime after that:
Erik watched Charles as he watched the children. They were on the balcony, overlooking a lush green lawn. Storm and Cyclops were playing tag below them, proving again the extraordinary resilience of children. Also watching the children and sitting together on a blanket on that same lawn, were Raven and Hank, hands entwined... apparently the past few weeks had accomplished more than the simple mending of battle wounds.
But now that healing had truly begun, for all of them, there were things that needed to be said. Things long since overdue.
He and Charles had spent his recovery time, and that of his students and peers, dancing around each other, demurring, playing their chess, and drinking their brandy. But Erik was too frightened of the possibility of scaring Charles away to seduce him, once more, to his bed, and Charles seemingly reluctant to address the topics that drove them apart to begin with.
Which wasn't like Charles. At all. That fact alone increased Erik's anxiety.
One thing was certain, he wasn't about to let Charles Xavier out of his sight for any extended period of time. Ever. Again. Not if he had to tie the telepath up to accomplish this one goal.
"They seem to have adjusted rather well, a credit to you, I think," he said in greeting, his helmet off in a show of good faith. Well, good faith and the fervent wish that Charles would simply read his mind and save him the hassle of finding the proper way to broach the topics he really wanted to discuss: 'I missed you, so much. What can I do to convince you to stay without turning my back on my ideals and the future of our people?'
But of course Charles wouldn't, oh no, that would mean taking the easy route. Charles seemed to avoid the road more traveled by principle. Sometimes, when he was feeling uncharitable, Erik wondered if Charles did it just to be infuriating.
"Yes, they appear to be doing wonderfully, largely in part due to your graciousness as a host these past few weeks. Really Erik, I can't thank you enough for that," Charles replied, his voice sincere and almost... wistful?
It was the wistfulness that got to him. Erik's patience, not exactly world renowned to begin with, had finally worn out.
"I'm not leaving you, Charles. We can find another location for your school, but me and the rest of the Brotherhood, we're going with you. Let me show you and the children how great a host I can be long term," he stated bluntly. He was not a believer in prevarication. But then, neither was Charles.
Charles wheeled around to face him and smiled, and for the first time in a long time, the smile reached his eyes. "I had hoped you would."
"Charles," Erik ground out. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Charles had the audacity to grin even more hugely.
"Same reason as you, I imagine, Erik," Charles smiled, eyebrow raised, inviting Erik to laugh with him. Suddenly Erik couldn't breathe, not with Charles sitting there vague and grinning, mocking and teasing, looking so much like the Charles who had kept Erik constantly entertained during their road trip to find and recruit mutants. He didn't think it was possible to love anybody more than he did Charles in that moment.
He threw his head back and he laughed, relief taking hold of his soul.
Even through his amusement the things left unsaid still haunted this reunion. Their differences had driven them apart before, they couldn't be allowed to do so again. He'd dealt with enough loss in his lifetime. There could never be another Charles. The time they had been apart had been consumed with the thought of him. Never again. Charles had to understand.
"My beliefs haven't changed, Charles," he stated, willing to risk the joyful atmosphere to make sure Charles understood.
"And neither have mine," Charles responded with surety, and Erik wondered if there had ever been anyone more exasperating in all of Earth's entire history.
"You were attacked, Charles, one of us died. Do you think our numbers so great that we can spare anyone?" Erik yanked at his hair in frustration, wondering if eventually Charles would make him go bald through frustration. "Most of those wounded were children, what does it take…"
"You cannot judge an entire society based on the actions of a few," Charles interrupted, leaning forward in his char and fixing Erik with his Sober Professor look, the one he used when he was refusing to yield a point. "Would you want the world to judge all mutants by your actions?"
Erik shrugged, unimpressed.
He wouldn't mind it, no. He didn't think his views that radical nor off the mark.
"I had hoped we could compromise," Charles continued, undeterred, in a manner so Charles that Erik wanted to grab him and kiss him, "you and your team defend us. When you've word of an attack of a physical or direct nature against us, you deflect it using whatever means at your disposal. I swear I will not stand in your way. It is obvious to me that we do need protection of some sort."
There was a pause there as Erik pondered the significance of that concession. But Charles continued onward, because Charles was inordinately in love with the sound of his own voice.
Right was the way of the universe. It was funny how their being able to debate openly again after weeks of tip toeing around each other was the first thing that gave Erik hope that they could make a future together.
He tried not to reflect on how messed up that made them, from a mental standpoint.
"Meanwhile, Hank and I work on fighting this battle of a more diplomatic and political nature, we'll tackle the bureaucracy," Charles began, waving his a hand for emphasis, as if to say 'watch out, I'm on a roll, pun intended, because I'm clever like that, so be prepared for my rather astounding wisdom to come your way.'
Seeing Charles excited and animated about something, regardless of topic, made Erik's blood ignite.
"We'll even appeal to the press if we have to," Charles continued, "tell our side, highlight the nature of our plight. We continue to teach the children and offer them sanctuary, but we leave any decision of what they want to do when they're adults, whether they want to join the Brotherhood, or stay on at the school and teach, or even if they want to do neither, up to them. But do not ask me to attack anybody Erik, because I won't do it. I do not believe that violence is the key to mutant acceptance."
"And I still don't believe that 'acceptance' should be our chief concern, not when we're better than they are," Erik retaliated, because he had to, but his body sagged in relief nonetheless.
Charles was offering to stay. That brilliant, funny, exasperating, incessantly focused mind was willing to separate, at least for now, the needs of his incessant goodwill, from the needs of the man - the man who Erik still wanted by his side, always.
He could meet Charles halfway, now that the other man was offering, and concede to the compromise Charles was making. The trade was more than worth it.
Erik stepped forward and crouched to Charles' eye level, his heart decidedly lighter than it'd been in ages. He brought his face just centimeters away from Charles'.
"And our bedroom?" Erik asked, eyebrows raised and daring, veiling a multitude of questions behind that one.
"Our bedroom is our sanctuary, the place we don't talk about any of this at all," Charles responded, blue eyes lit with promise.
"Good, Charles. See? You can teach an old professor new tricks," Erik teased.
"Who's old?" Charles asked, indignant, just before Erik leaned the rest of the way and pressed his lips firmly against Charles', desperately wondering, if he pressed hard enough, if he could somehow fuse them together, forever locked in a kiss, so Charles could never be parted from him again.
Charles once told him that he felt Erik to be a good man, deep down in the recesses of Erik's brain, behind all of the pain and torment. Erik didn't have the heart to tell him then what he still felt to this day… the good part of him? That was Charles.
The End!
Previous Part
*****
Sometime after that:
Erik watched Charles as he watched the children. They were on the balcony, overlooking a lush green lawn. Storm and Cyclops were playing tag below them, proving again the extraordinary resilience of children. Also watching the children and sitting together on a blanket on that same lawn, were Raven and Hank, hands entwined... apparently the past few weeks had accomplished more than the simple mending of battle wounds.
But now that healing had truly begun, for all of them, there were things that needed to be said. Things long since overdue.
He and Charles had spent his recovery time, and that of his students and peers, dancing around each other, demurring, playing their chess, and drinking their brandy. But Erik was too frightened of the possibility of scaring Charles away to seduce him, once more, to his bed, and Charles seemingly reluctant to address the topics that drove them apart to begin with.
Which wasn't like Charles. At all. That fact alone increased Erik's anxiety.
One thing was certain, he wasn't about to let Charles Xavier out of his sight for any extended period of time. Ever. Again. Not if he had to tie the telepath up to accomplish this one goal.
"They seem to have adjusted rather well, a credit to you, I think," he said in greeting, his helmet off in a show of good faith. Well, good faith and the fervent wish that Charles would simply read his mind and save him the hassle of finding the proper way to broach the topics he really wanted to discuss: 'I missed you, so much. What can I do to convince you to stay without turning my back on my ideals and the future of our people?'
But of course Charles wouldn't, oh no, that would mean taking the easy route. Charles seemed to avoid the road more traveled by principle. Sometimes, when he was feeling uncharitable, Erik wondered if Charles did it just to be infuriating.
"Yes, they appear to be doing wonderfully, largely in part due to your graciousness as a host these past few weeks. Really Erik, I can't thank you enough for that," Charles replied, his voice sincere and almost... wistful?
It was the wistfulness that got to him. Erik's patience, not exactly world renowned to begin with, had finally worn out.
"I'm not leaving you, Charles. We can find another location for your school, but me and the rest of the Brotherhood, we're going with you. Let me show you and the children how great a host I can be long term," he stated bluntly. He was not a believer in prevarication. But then, neither was Charles.
Charles wheeled around to face him and smiled, and for the first time in a long time, the smile reached his eyes. "I had hoped you would."
"Charles," Erik ground out. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Charles had the audacity to grin even more hugely.
"Same reason as you, I imagine, Erik," Charles smiled, eyebrow raised, inviting Erik to laugh with him. Suddenly Erik couldn't breathe, not with Charles sitting there vague and grinning, mocking and teasing, looking so much like the Charles who had kept Erik constantly entertained during their road trip to find and recruit mutants. He didn't think it was possible to love anybody more than he did Charles in that moment.
He threw his head back and he laughed, relief taking hold of his soul.
Even through his amusement the things left unsaid still haunted this reunion. Their differences had driven them apart before, they couldn't be allowed to do so again. He'd dealt with enough loss in his lifetime. There could never be another Charles. The time they had been apart had been consumed with the thought of him. Never again. Charles had to understand.
"My beliefs haven't changed, Charles," he stated, willing to risk the joyful atmosphere to make sure Charles understood.
"And neither have mine," Charles responded with surety, and Erik wondered if there had ever been anyone more exasperating in all of Earth's entire history.
"You were attacked, Charles, one of us died. Do you think our numbers so great that we can spare anyone?" Erik yanked at his hair in frustration, wondering if eventually Charles would make him go bald through frustration. "Most of those wounded were children, what does it take…"
"You cannot judge an entire society based on the actions of a few," Charles interrupted, leaning forward in his char and fixing Erik with his Sober Professor look, the one he used when he was refusing to yield a point. "Would you want the world to judge all mutants by your actions?"
Erik shrugged, unimpressed.
He wouldn't mind it, no. He didn't think his views that radical nor off the mark.
"I had hoped we could compromise," Charles continued, undeterred, in a manner so Charles that Erik wanted to grab him and kiss him, "you and your team defend us. When you've word of an attack of a physical or direct nature against us, you deflect it using whatever means at your disposal. I swear I will not stand in your way. It is obvious to me that we do need protection of some sort."
There was a pause there as Erik pondered the significance of that concession. But Charles continued onward, because Charles was inordinately in love with the sound of his own voice.
Right was the way of the universe. It was funny how their being able to debate openly again after weeks of tip toeing around each other was the first thing that gave Erik hope that they could make a future together.
He tried not to reflect on how messed up that made them, from a mental standpoint.
"Meanwhile, Hank and I work on fighting this battle of a more diplomatic and political nature, we'll tackle the bureaucracy," Charles began, waving his a hand for emphasis, as if to say 'watch out, I'm on a roll, pun intended, because I'm clever like that, so be prepared for my rather astounding wisdom to come your way.'
Seeing Charles excited and animated about something, regardless of topic, made Erik's blood ignite.
"We'll even appeal to the press if we have to," Charles continued, "tell our side, highlight the nature of our plight. We continue to teach the children and offer them sanctuary, but we leave any decision of what they want to do when they're adults, whether they want to join the Brotherhood, or stay on at the school and teach, or even if they want to do neither, up to them. But do not ask me to attack anybody Erik, because I won't do it. I do not believe that violence is the key to mutant acceptance."
"And I still don't believe that 'acceptance' should be our chief concern, not when we're better than they are," Erik retaliated, because he had to, but his body sagged in relief nonetheless.
Charles was offering to stay. That brilliant, funny, exasperating, incessantly focused mind was willing to separate, at least for now, the needs of his incessant goodwill, from the needs of the man - the man who Erik still wanted by his side, always.
He could meet Charles halfway, now that the other man was offering, and concede to the compromise Charles was making. The trade was more than worth it.
Erik stepped forward and crouched to Charles' eye level, his heart decidedly lighter than it'd been in ages. He brought his face just centimeters away from Charles'.
"And our bedroom?" Erik asked, eyebrows raised and daring, veiling a multitude of questions behind that one.
"Our bedroom is our sanctuary, the place we don't talk about any of this at all," Charles responded, blue eyes lit with promise.
"Good, Charles. See? You can teach an old professor new tricks," Erik teased.
"Who's old?" Charles asked, indignant, just before Erik leaned the rest of the way and pressed his lips firmly against Charles', desperately wondering, if he pressed hard enough, if he could somehow fuse them together, forever locked in a kiss, so Charles could never be parted from him again.
Charles once told him that he felt Erik to be a good man, deep down in the recesses of Erik's brain, behind all of the pain and torment. Erik didn't have the heart to tell him then what he still felt to this day… the good part of him? That was Charles.
The End!
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