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FIC: An Earlier Heaven - Charles/Erik, XMFC - (8/??)
Title: An Earlier Heaven (8/??)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~5,200 for the chapter (total: 55,000+)
Warnings: mpreg
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: None.
Summary: In the wake of Cuba, Charles and his students are ready to pick up the pieces and work toward achieving Charles's dream of a safe haven for young mutants. Those plans, however, take a surprising turn thanks to a very unexpected complication. As he slowly builds a future for his students and for his child, Charles struggles with the loss of Erik and the secrets he's willing to keep to protect his family, but those strides are shattered when Erik makes a startling reappearance into his life. [mpreg, kidfic, ensemble]
Previous Parts available at LJ, DW and AO3.
An Earlier Heaven (part 8)
Charles had never considered himself a particularly angry man but he could feel the anger building through him at that moment, a feverish thrum that made the hand he had on Sean's shoulder shake ever so slightly as he leant close and asked again, "Are you sure you're all right?"
Sean nodded, still a little dazed, eyes squeezed shut behind the hand he had pressed against his forehead. "It's like the worst headache ever but I'm fine," he said. "Is Jean okay?"
"She's fine," Charles assured him, a quick glance to where his daughter sat with her blocks, mostly oblivious to the tension in the room.
"I'm sorry, Prof," Sean said, a wave of guilt hitting Charles. "I tried to keep her from finding it but..."
"This isn't your fault," Charles told him firmly. "Don't you dare apologize."
"What's going on?"
They both glanced toward the door where Alex had skittered to a stop, breathing rapidly from the sprint he'd done to reach them so quickly. Darwin was on his heels and Charles knew that Hank was only a few steps behind.
"Charles!" Alex said, impatient. "You sent out the psychic alarm. What's wrong?"
"Is everyone okay?" Darwin asked, more calmly, eyeing Charles, then Sean in concern.
"Guys?" Hank asked as he reached the traffic jam at the doorway. "What happened?"
Charles finally pulled away from where he was hovering over Sean so he could face the other three young men. "Emma Frost attacked Sean using her telepathy," he explained grimly, watching their faces contort as they reacted to the news. "She was trying to find out about Jean."
"Erik," Alex growled, a sound that was echoed Hank's throat.
"I don't have proof but yes, no doubt," Charles agreed. More quietly, he added, "He knows now. The truth about Jean."
Hank's yellow eyes widened behind his glasses and Darwin let out a startled breath. Alex clenched his fists and almost shimmered with the effort it took to suppress his powers.
"What are we doing to do?" Darwin asked, voice still amazingly calm for all the heightened emotion in the room.
Charles lifted his fingers to his temple. "It appears Erik and his associates are coming our way," he announced. "What we're going to do is greet them at the door."
"And kick some ass?" Alex asked.
Charles felt another shiver of anger sweep over him, his own amplified by Alex's. "That does seem like it might be on the agenda."
He let the boys plan amongst themselves -- he could hear Alex checking in with Sean, then telling him to take Jean and stay in the classroom with the other students -- while he reached out with his mind to check on Raven and Angel. He immediately knew they had not been aware of Erik and Emma's plan but Raven was worried, agitated by orders that had made no sense. They, however, made sense to Charles, banishing any last doubt in his mind that Erik had orchestrated Emma's attack on Sean.
Nausea, hot and bitter, rose in his throat, a physiological reaction to everything he was feeling -- pain, betrayal, sadness, and anger, white-hot and dangerous. He tried to calm himself and mostly succeeded in time to give Sean a reassuring smile as he scooped Jean up in his arms. "If anything happens, I'll know," he promised. He tapped his head. "You'll be in here the entire time."
"Give 'em hell, Prof," Sean said before he went through the door that connected the playroom to the classrooms.
To the other three, he said, "Come on. I'd rather not let our guests get any father than the foyer this time."
They grouped around him as he hurried through the halls, sending a command -- not quite a mental order but something firm enough that it would not be disobeyed -- to Raven and Angel to come to foyer as well. The only one of Erik's little group he could actually track was Azazel but he could tell from the teleporter's mind that they were close, Erik leading the way as Azazel and Emma, still in her diamond form, followed.
"Charles?" Raven asked as she and Angel reached the foyer just seconds after Charles and the others, her voice confused from following the suggestion he'd planted. "What's wrong?"
There were so many ways he could've answered her question, but the one he chose cut to the heart of the matter. "The reason you were asked to stall for time was so Erik could have Emma attack one of my students," he informed her.
Raven's shock was genuine and obvious, but that didn't help Charles's anger, nor did it stop Hank was shooting her a venomous look that echoed the betrayal Charles felt in his gut.
"Charles..." she began, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Angel, but she didn't have a chance to finish because the great doors at the entrance of the manor flew open as if of their own accord, rattling on their hinges from the invisible force used to push at them.
Charles felt Hank's hand on his shoulder and he could see out of the corner of his eye that Alex shifted on the balls of his feet, ready to attack. Darwin was beside him, arms crossed, dark eyes taking in every detail as three figures appeared in the empty space bared by the now-open doors.
It was Erik, flanked by Emma and Azazel, his expression stony and dark behind the lines of his helmet and his pale eyes trained on Charles. As the three of them stepped into the house, every bit of metal around them began to vibrate, including Charles's wheelchair, a fact he could feel against his back and beneath his arms.
Charles wasn't moved by the display. "Your stay here was conditional on one thing, Erik," he told him. "And you've broken the one promise I asked of you." He cut his eyes at Emma as she shimmered out of her diamond form. He noticed, however, that she didn't come near his mind with her powers. "I think it's time you left."
The metal rattled a little more theatrically around him, so much so that Hank tightened the grip on his shoulder, as if to keep him steady in his chair. "Were you ever going to tell me, Charles?" Erik's voice was quiet, sharper with an accent that came and went with his mood. "About Jean?"
"No," he said honestly.
"And you really thought you could hide it? Forever?"
"That was the plan." He lifted an eyebrow. "I gave you more credit than to think you'd have your telepath pry it out of Sean's mind against his will."
"You should've told me the truth to begin with," Erik said, volume rising. "You had no right to keep it from me."
"I think I had every right," Charles shot back. "And you've just proven that today. I can't trust you with her."
"What are you two talking about?" Raven demanded, somehow the only person in the room not too wary to speak up. "Why did you attack Sean? What did you want to find out?"
It pained Charles that he could feel that there were reasons Erik could give that would make Raven accept an unprovoked attack on her former teammate, if even she disagreed with the action personally.
"Your brother has been lying about his daughter," Erik said. "Moira's not her mother."
"I never said Moira was her mother," Charles pointed out.
"You inferred it," Erik argued.
"I said Jean only had one parent in any position to be a part of her life and I wasn't wrong," Charles said.
"Both of you, stop talking in riddles," Raven demanded. She glanced around at all the tight expressions, from Charles surrounded by his pupils to Erik, with Emma and Azazel. "I have a feeling that everyone knows what you're talking about except me, so one of you better fill me in."
"She's my daughter," Erik stated. "And your brother kept it from me."
"Then who's...who's her mother?" Raven asked.
Emma laughed, but Erik didn't take his eyes from Charles. "Yes, Charles," Erik drawled. "Raven would like that explained to her."
Raven turned her pleading yellow gaze his way. "Charles?"
He wasn't sure his vocal cords would let him explain -- he'd spent too much time keeping it inside, everything about Jean and himself and Erik -- so instead he silently asked Raven for permission to explain it via his powers. She acquiesced with a slight nod, and he pushed a flurry of memories at her -- missing Erik, being ill, then Hank's diagnosis, the first grainy images of a fetus; the days of pregnancy and anxiety; and, finally, the first feeling of Jean's life in the fog of medication after the delivery.
Raven stared at him as she raised her hand over her mouth, her shock letting some of her own memories leak through, sour with regret -- Raven, naked in Erik's bed the night before the Cuba mission, first blond, then older, then in her natural form; Erik's words, the seductive quality of his acceptance; and, finally, the last lingering recollection of Erik kissing her before Charles severed the connection with all the finesse of a sledgehammer, mentally cringing under Raven's last blast of guilt.
"Charles..." she whispered again, but he looked away, down at his hand where it lay against smooth metal of the arm rest, still humming under the control of Erik's power. When it became obvious Charles was not going to acknowledge her, she glanced at Hank, eyes narrowed in accusation. "You knew the whole time and you didn't tell me?"
"Of course we knew," Alex said.
"But you couldn't trust me?" Raven asked, again directed at Charles.
"We were here," Hank told her. "You weren't."
"It seems I wasn't the only one keeping secrets, though, was I?" he said, pointedly first at Raven, then Erik, Raven's memories still fresh in his recollection. "I'm not sure why you're still here, Erik. You've outstayed your welcome."
"My daughter is here," Erik said. "You can't keep me away from her."
"The hell I can't," Charles said, tone steady and mild despite the desperate twist of emotions he could feel in his heart. "I mean it, Erik. Please leave. And don't return."
"You have no power of me thanks to this," Erik said, tapping a finger against the metal curve of his helmet. "I'm immune to your tricks. How do you propose you'd stopped me if I wanted to take my daughter with me?"
"Over my dead body," Alex warned, stepping forward.
"That can be arranged," Erik said with a roll of his eyes.
"And mine," Hank growled.
"And mine," Darwin added.
Charles made sure Erik was watching as he lifted his hand, pressing his fingers to the skin of his forehead. He reached out and took control of each of Erik's allies almost simultaneously, an easy task for him after so many years of practice. The only real opposition to his control was Emma who tried to flicker into her diamond form but he was faster than she had come to expect from their first encounter, and he crashed through her defenses before they'd fully formed. Compared to controlling Shaw, it was hardly work to hold the four of them immobile, even with the outrage he could feel from Raven.
"If you try, you'll do it alone," Charles told him. "And I'm serious when I say you'll have to kill us all to do it."
"Really, Charles?" Erik laughed, a bitter, angry sound. "Threats from you? Hardly something to fear."
"Perhaps you shouldn't risk it," Charles returned. "Maybe I learned more from you than you thought I had."
"Just give me a reason, Erik," Alex said, jaw clenched. "I swear to god, just breathe wrong and I'll take you down."
Charles made a halting motion toward Alex with his other hand. "I don't want to hurt anyone, especially someone I once cared about," he said, his voice breaking a little on the end of the sentence. "But it's over, Erik. Any chance you had to be part of Jean's life. It was over the moment you broke the only promise I ever asked of you, when you let Emma hurt Sean. I'm sorry but that's something I can't forgive."
For a moment, Erik's expression flickered behind his helmet and Charles was no longer looking at Magneto's cold mask – instead, it was the wrecked visage of the man he loved so recklessly, all desperation and longing and confusion, everything Erik had never learned how to express in words. "Charles..."
"Please," Charles begged, feeling the emotions swamp him until they stung like tears in his eyes. "For the last time, just go."
The unguarded expression shuttered away and the mask was back, but Erik nodded, one sharp jerk of his head. "Very well." He looked around at his team, still frozen under Charles's control. "My people?"
Charles lowered his hand from his temple and they were no longer statues frozen under his power. He tried to ignore the wounded looks Raven was sending his way, but she'd made her decision years ago and, as much as it pained him, he had no choice but to remember it.
"Come," Erik said to them, and they gathered together as they had on the beach, a line of them with Azazel in the middle, linking hands as they prepared to teleport away from the manor.
"This isn't over," Erik warned, gaze still fixed on Charles's face. Then he gave a nod that must've meant something to Azazel because they all disappeared in a flash of red smoke.
Charles released a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced up toward the young man still vibrating with anger at his side. "I'm ready for that I told you so now, Alex," he told him.
Alex's expression softened a little as he sank down to his knees, level with Charles. He laid a hand on Charles's arm. "You're not going to hear it from me."
"What do we do now?" Hank asked quietly.
"We go on with our lives, same as always," Charles said.
"And if he decides to come back?" Alex asked.
"Then we'll be prepared to deal with it," Charles answered.
Darwin let out his own deep breath, as if he'd been holding it the entire time. "I think we could all use some downtime after that," he said. "Charles, can I give you a push over to the classroom? I bet you'd like to check on Jean."
"I'd like that, if you don't mind," he agreed with a grateful smile.
"I've got it," Hank said, carefully maneuvering the wheelchair from behind. "I think we all probably want to check in on Jean."
"And Sean," Alex added.
Charles remembered the conclusion he'd come to earlier that day, about letting go of the past and focusing on the future. He was even more in need of that philosophy now. He realized that he'd been wrong when he'd thought his heart couldn't break any more than it had on the beach. Erik, it seemed, had a knack for choosing courses of action that could splinter what little of it remained. But he had his children, all of them, from Darwin down to Jean, all of whom needed him and who he needed in return. That was where his future waited.
"Yes," he said aloud, as Hank pushed him along. "I think that sounds like a brilliant idea."
**
Their new hideout was an ancient ramshackle of a house, what might have once been a stately plantation house on some small Caribbean island. It had, according to Emma, been one of Shaw's back-up safe houses, so primitive that Shaw had never thought to use it. Erik was not concerned with amenities, so it made the perfect place to wait out the trouble that had cut off Shaw's resources from them.
As soon as the house blossomed into existence around them, Erik broke from the group, stalking away from where the rest of the Brotherhood greeted Janos and began to look around their new, albeit temporary, base of operations.
They'd gotten used to moving by now and the inconsequential details had already been taken care of by one of the others -- Erik quickly found an aired-out bedroom where his bags had been left to wait for him, and he knew food would be waiting in the kitchen if he looked for it. Neither bed nor sustenance was what he craved at that moment and it only took him a few more minutes to find the alcohol stashed in a communal room that still smelled wet and musty with disuse.
Erik poured himself a drink and knocked it back before he refilled the crystal again. With a deep breath, he snatched the helmet from his head and threw it across the room where it bounced against the faded cushions of a settee.
"If you know what's good for you," he said into the air, to himself, to Emma who he knew was hovering at the edges of his consciousness. "You'll keep your powers away from me. I'm not in the mood to suffer the foolishness of any telepaths."
He could tell no real difference from the moment before, but he knew Emma had come to know his moods and obey them as needed, and the warning he'd issued was deadly serious. In fact, it didn't take a telepath to know he wanted to be left alone -- they all knew it and acted accordingly, the faint creak of the walls around him the only outward sign Erik had that he was not alone in the dilapidated manor house.
Erik had little conception of how long he stared out over the dark ocean through the open verandah doors or how long he tried to drink away his turmoil, seeking the numbness he could so often find in spirits. When it came to Charles, though, Erik had learned the hard way that nothing dulled the edge of the knife the way it once had, and it seemed he was doomed to feel every sharp twist of it in his chest, in his gut.
When he finally gave up on the liquor, he was already faintly buzzed and he leaned against the rough painted wood of the doorjamb, out across the empty sand and into the sea. The moon was barely a sliver in the black sky, stars bright and careless around it, cold and mocking like the thoughts that tumbled through his mind. Going to Charles for help had been a risk, he knew, but he hadn't expected it to affect him in the way he had. He should've, perhaps, but he had considered mind-shattering revelations to be the least of his worries when it came to Charles.
Then again, Erik had always underestimated him.
Leave it to Charles, he thought wryly, to be capable of something even mutants thought impossible. Also, leave it to Charles to think he knew what was best for everyone, to think that he had the right to keep something like a child secret from Erik when she was as much his flesh and blood as she was Charles's. It was just another instance of what had always frustrated him most about the man, even when he'd been completely fascinated by him. Erik had never wanted to be at anyone's mercy ever again, but Charles had a way of managing it without anything more than being himself, arrogant and kind, conceited and caring, so powerful that it frightened Erik even when he wanted to trust him with everything he was.
And now this -- a betrayal of Erik's desire to do just that. He had thought, in the back of his mind, that he could always trust Charles with what had been between them and, in some ways, the truth was worse than the fabrication he'd believed. Believing that Charles had been warming his bed with Moira had been a blow but nothing to knowing that Charles had planned to hide his own child from him. His own child, the only family he knew of he had in the world. It felt like crueler than any infidelity could have.
The air had long grown cool by the time Erik let himself think of Jean, who he had wastefully spent so much of the last few days trying not to think of. He recalled her inquisitive blue eyes, painfully reminiscent of Charles's, her unruly red curls, how easy she'd seemed in his presence. He thought about the precious few details he had of her life -- she'd been born in July, she hadn't manifested any powers. He didn't know if she walked yet or talked much, if she'd been colicky infant, how long it had taken for her to start to sleep through the night. He didn't know and Charles had never wanted him to; if Charles's wishes were obeyed, Erik would never even see either of them again, a thought too painful for him to contemplate.
Not that Erik had any idea of what he'd do to avoid that fate. As much as his anger had led him to make veiled threats at Charles, even his anger hadn't blinded him to the fact that his life was no place for a child, especially not an infant. While Charles had chosen to hide away and gather children, Erik had chosen to meet the world head-on. His team was a team of soldiers, adults ready to do battle with the humans who hated them. Erik would be damned if he let Charles keep him from his daughter, but a kidnapping was not the answer.
Whatever the answer was, it didn't come to Erik that night. He didn't remember falling asleep but he woke up sitting on the sandy verandah, the sun warming his skin through the layers of his clothes. Given his state, he was grateful he didn't encounter any of the others as he made his way to his room and found more suitable attire for their new location to don after a much-needed shower. The ancient pipes rattled in the walls as he waited for the cool water to trickle over him, washing away the sand he'd already accumulated on his skin as well as the fogginess of his brain.
Coffee helped, too, enough that Erik could entertain faint humor at the fact he still hadn't encountered another soul in the house, everyone careful to give him the space they thought his black humor deserved. No doubt Janos had been filled in on the explosion that had preceded their departure from the Xavier mansion, warning him against any accidental interaction with their leader. Of course, for all Erik knew, Azazel had teleported them off somewhere to leave him to his thoughts in complete solitude.
That last theory was disproved a few hours into the new day when Erik heard the tell-tale sound of approaching footsteps and looked up from the table he'd commandeered for his papers to see Mystique watching him from across the room. She was once again gloriously naked and unashamed of her glistening blue skin, not covered up as she'd been in deference to Charles's delicate sensibilities.
"I think you've had long enough to brood," she announced as she approached, hands behind her back. "I think it's time to -- what's the saying? -- beard the lion in his den?"
"I'm not brooding," he told her, rattling a blueprint at her. "I'm working."
"We're in the middle of nowhere on lockdown until who knows when," she reminded him. "You're avoiding."
He let out a deep sigh to illustrate how little patience he had for her meddling. "Did you want something in particular, Mystique?"
Her expression fell, losing its hint of attitude. "You never told me. About you and Charles."
"It wasn't any of your business," he said.
She raised an eyebrow -- or at least what would've been a brow on someone else, but on her was a line of pointed scales. "Even when I climbed into your bed that night, you didn't think it was my business that you were sleeping with my brother?"
"It was only once," Erik said before he thought better of it. "And, no, it still wasn't your business."
The incredulity obvious on her face only grew. "That's even worse," she said, sinking down into a nearby chair.
Erik didn't want to know but he couldn't stop himself from asking. "Exactly how is that worse?"
Raven looked down, ducking her head a little. Erik had learned it was a sign of embarrassment. "Charles isn't exactly, um, shy," she admitted in a rush. "I'm figuring if it was only once, he held off on making his move and that's not what he does usually. Meaning...it was unusual for him."
He really didn't want to think about Charles's sexual habits before they'd met any more than he'd wanted to think about a potential liaison with Moira. "Probably more unusual than he was expecting," Erik observed.
"Yeah, definitely," Mystique agreed, but her mood didn't lighten. "I can't imagine what it must've been like for him."
It was something Erik had tried not to think about in an attempt to limit his sympathy toward Charles's decisions. He wanted to hold on to his anger, let his resentment act as a reminder of why he couldn't trust Charles the way he wanted. "He seems to have handled it well enough."
She glared at him. "He's had a lot to handle in the last few years."
Erik agreed to her assertion with a nod. "Yes," he admitted softly, thinking of the first time he'd seen Charles bound to his wheelchair because of Erik's own carelessness. "He has."
"God, Charles, sometimes you are a such selfless bastard," Mystique said after a moment, shaking her head in what seemed to be some confusing blend of sadness and amusement. She glanced over at Erik. "I bet you didn't have any idea."
"About Jean?" Erik snorted. "I think that was obvious."
She shook her head. "About how he felt about you. I told you he loved you."
"You told me he loved Moira," he reminded her.
"I told you I could see how much he loved Jean's other parent," she objected. "Who I thought was Moira, at that time, but who I now know is you." She sat back in her chair, tapping a small square of paper against her thigh as she became lost in thought. Erik hadn't noticed it before but she must've had it in her hands when she came in the room. "He let us both go without ever saying a word."
"Your brother didn't let me do anything and if you're saying you wouldn't have come without his permission, I'm disappointed in you," he told her. "Charles has no right to make decisions for you."
"You're right, he doesn't and I let him get away with it for too long," she said. "But he's still my brother. Even when he pisses me off, I care about him -- and his opinions."
"His opinions are that we are wrong in what we're doing," Erik reminded her, anger creeping in even though he knew Mystique wasn't the proper target for it. "He thinks we should roll over and let the humans murder us in the name of peace and solidarity. Do you agree?"
"No," she said immediately, frowning. "I'm dedicated to the cause, you know that! But..."
"But?" he intoned with derision.
She looked down at the slip of paper in her hand. "Charles asked me how I'd feel if something I did was the reason that someone hated mutants and it ended up hurting Jean. I hadn't ever thought about it like that."
"Charles wants you to think that we can live in harmony with people who want to kill us just for being who we are," Erik argued. "Surely you see the flaw in his integrationist delusions."
"We shouldn't have to hide," she agreed, fierce and lovely in her utter conviction. "But humans don't even know about us yet, not on a wide enough scale. I just wonder if we're...premature."
"Better to wait until they're rounding us up for the slaughterhouse?"
"You know, you want to fault Charles for not telling you about Jean, I get that," she said. "I do. Charles is an arrogant prick half the time and he doesn't even see it. But at least he's thinking about Jean, about how things he does will affect her."
"I'm thinking about all of us!" Erik was on his feet, leaning over the table as he made his point. "Every mutant on the planet and all the ones who'll follow us. I'm making sure they won't ever have to live through what I have."
"Don't you worry about it being us that exposes mutants to the world?" Mystique asked. "What if we're what makes people take notice in the first place?"
"I thought you were done with hiding, Mystique," Erik said, coming around to lean against the table. "Isn't that what you just said?"
"Maybe the world isn't as white as Charles wants it to be," she said, rising to her own feet. "But maybe it's not as black as you see it. Maybe, if you both weren't arrogant pricks, you'd see that there was a place in the middle that works for everyone."
Erik didn't bother answering; he crossed his arms and glowered at her from behind one raised eyebrow.
"There's no talking to you sometimes," she said, throwing her arms up in disgust. "I think I like you better when you're drunk."
"I didn't ask for this little heart-to-heart with you in the first place," he pointed out.
"Neither did I," she said sourly. She held out the paper she'd been holding. "I just came to give you this."
Erik looked at it suspiciously until she started waving it vigorously under his nose, at which point he took it to avoid being slapped in the face with it. "What is it?" he asked, even as the answer presented itself when he turned it over.
What he held in his hand was a photograph -- a snapshot, in color but obviously amateur. It showed Charles, sleeves rolled up, hair mussed and smiling as if on the verge of laughter with Jean positioned in front of him, one chubby hand in the air as she let out an open-mouthed laugh. They'd obviously been moving when the photo had been snapped, so the edges weren't as crisp as they could've been but the subjects were unmistakable.
"Where did you get this?" he asked softly, shocked by the faces staring back at him.
"Hank has a Land camera, you know the kind?" Mystique asked. When he looked at her blankly, she rolled her eyes and continued. "Anyway, he had several so I figured he wouldn't miss one if I helped myself. So I did." She glanced down at the photo Erik still held between them. "I also figured that you probably needed it more than I did now."
Long after Mystique had quietly left him to his maps and plans, Erik stood still, looking down at the photograph clutched in his hand.
End of Part 8
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~5,200 for the chapter (total: 55,000+)
Warnings: mpreg
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: None.
Summary: In the wake of Cuba, Charles and his students are ready to pick up the pieces and work toward achieving Charles's dream of a safe haven for young mutants. Those plans, however, take a surprising turn thanks to a very unexpected complication. As he slowly builds a future for his students and for his child, Charles struggles with the loss of Erik and the secrets he's willing to keep to protect his family, but those strides are shattered when Erik makes a startling reappearance into his life. [mpreg, kidfic, ensemble]
Previous Parts available at LJ, DW and AO3.
An Earlier Heaven (part 8)
Charles had never considered himself a particularly angry man but he could feel the anger building through him at that moment, a feverish thrum that made the hand he had on Sean's shoulder shake ever so slightly as he leant close and asked again, "Are you sure you're all right?"
Sean nodded, still a little dazed, eyes squeezed shut behind the hand he had pressed against his forehead. "It's like the worst headache ever but I'm fine," he said. "Is Jean okay?"
"She's fine," Charles assured him, a quick glance to where his daughter sat with her blocks, mostly oblivious to the tension in the room.
"I'm sorry, Prof," Sean said, a wave of guilt hitting Charles. "I tried to keep her from finding it but..."
"This isn't your fault," Charles told him firmly. "Don't you dare apologize."
"What's going on?"
They both glanced toward the door where Alex had skittered to a stop, breathing rapidly from the sprint he'd done to reach them so quickly. Darwin was on his heels and Charles knew that Hank was only a few steps behind.
"Charles!" Alex said, impatient. "You sent out the psychic alarm. What's wrong?"
"Is everyone okay?" Darwin asked, more calmly, eyeing Charles, then Sean in concern.
"Guys?" Hank asked as he reached the traffic jam at the doorway. "What happened?"
Charles finally pulled away from where he was hovering over Sean so he could face the other three young men. "Emma Frost attacked Sean using her telepathy," he explained grimly, watching their faces contort as they reacted to the news. "She was trying to find out about Jean."
"Erik," Alex growled, a sound that was echoed Hank's throat.
"I don't have proof but yes, no doubt," Charles agreed. More quietly, he added, "He knows now. The truth about Jean."
Hank's yellow eyes widened behind his glasses and Darwin let out a startled breath. Alex clenched his fists and almost shimmered with the effort it took to suppress his powers.
"What are we doing to do?" Darwin asked, voice still amazingly calm for all the heightened emotion in the room.
Charles lifted his fingers to his temple. "It appears Erik and his associates are coming our way," he announced. "What we're going to do is greet them at the door."
"And kick some ass?" Alex asked.
Charles felt another shiver of anger sweep over him, his own amplified by Alex's. "That does seem like it might be on the agenda."
He let the boys plan amongst themselves -- he could hear Alex checking in with Sean, then telling him to take Jean and stay in the classroom with the other students -- while he reached out with his mind to check on Raven and Angel. He immediately knew they had not been aware of Erik and Emma's plan but Raven was worried, agitated by orders that had made no sense. They, however, made sense to Charles, banishing any last doubt in his mind that Erik had orchestrated Emma's attack on Sean.
Nausea, hot and bitter, rose in his throat, a physiological reaction to everything he was feeling -- pain, betrayal, sadness, and anger, white-hot and dangerous. He tried to calm himself and mostly succeeded in time to give Sean a reassuring smile as he scooped Jean up in his arms. "If anything happens, I'll know," he promised. He tapped his head. "You'll be in here the entire time."
"Give 'em hell, Prof," Sean said before he went through the door that connected the playroom to the classrooms.
To the other three, he said, "Come on. I'd rather not let our guests get any father than the foyer this time."
They grouped around him as he hurried through the halls, sending a command -- not quite a mental order but something firm enough that it would not be disobeyed -- to Raven and Angel to come to foyer as well. The only one of Erik's little group he could actually track was Azazel but he could tell from the teleporter's mind that they were close, Erik leading the way as Azazel and Emma, still in her diamond form, followed.
"Charles?" Raven asked as she and Angel reached the foyer just seconds after Charles and the others, her voice confused from following the suggestion he'd planted. "What's wrong?"
There were so many ways he could've answered her question, but the one he chose cut to the heart of the matter. "The reason you were asked to stall for time was so Erik could have Emma attack one of my students," he informed her.
Raven's shock was genuine and obvious, but that didn't help Charles's anger, nor did it stop Hank was shooting her a venomous look that echoed the betrayal Charles felt in his gut.
"Charles..." she began, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Angel, but she didn't have a chance to finish because the great doors at the entrance of the manor flew open as if of their own accord, rattling on their hinges from the invisible force used to push at them.
Charles felt Hank's hand on his shoulder and he could see out of the corner of his eye that Alex shifted on the balls of his feet, ready to attack. Darwin was beside him, arms crossed, dark eyes taking in every detail as three figures appeared in the empty space bared by the now-open doors.
It was Erik, flanked by Emma and Azazel, his expression stony and dark behind the lines of his helmet and his pale eyes trained on Charles. As the three of them stepped into the house, every bit of metal around them began to vibrate, including Charles's wheelchair, a fact he could feel against his back and beneath his arms.
Charles wasn't moved by the display. "Your stay here was conditional on one thing, Erik," he told him. "And you've broken the one promise I asked of you." He cut his eyes at Emma as she shimmered out of her diamond form. He noticed, however, that she didn't come near his mind with her powers. "I think it's time you left."
The metal rattled a little more theatrically around him, so much so that Hank tightened the grip on his shoulder, as if to keep him steady in his chair. "Were you ever going to tell me, Charles?" Erik's voice was quiet, sharper with an accent that came and went with his mood. "About Jean?"
"No," he said honestly.
"And you really thought you could hide it? Forever?"
"That was the plan." He lifted an eyebrow. "I gave you more credit than to think you'd have your telepath pry it out of Sean's mind against his will."
"You should've told me the truth to begin with," Erik said, volume rising. "You had no right to keep it from me."
"I think I had every right," Charles shot back. "And you've just proven that today. I can't trust you with her."
"What are you two talking about?" Raven demanded, somehow the only person in the room not too wary to speak up. "Why did you attack Sean? What did you want to find out?"
It pained Charles that he could feel that there were reasons Erik could give that would make Raven accept an unprovoked attack on her former teammate, if even she disagreed with the action personally.
"Your brother has been lying about his daughter," Erik said. "Moira's not her mother."
"I never said Moira was her mother," Charles pointed out.
"You inferred it," Erik argued.
"I said Jean only had one parent in any position to be a part of her life and I wasn't wrong," Charles said.
"Both of you, stop talking in riddles," Raven demanded. She glanced around at all the tight expressions, from Charles surrounded by his pupils to Erik, with Emma and Azazel. "I have a feeling that everyone knows what you're talking about except me, so one of you better fill me in."
"She's my daughter," Erik stated. "And your brother kept it from me."
"Then who's...who's her mother?" Raven asked.
Emma laughed, but Erik didn't take his eyes from Charles. "Yes, Charles," Erik drawled. "Raven would like that explained to her."
Raven turned her pleading yellow gaze his way. "Charles?"
He wasn't sure his vocal cords would let him explain -- he'd spent too much time keeping it inside, everything about Jean and himself and Erik -- so instead he silently asked Raven for permission to explain it via his powers. She acquiesced with a slight nod, and he pushed a flurry of memories at her -- missing Erik, being ill, then Hank's diagnosis, the first grainy images of a fetus; the days of pregnancy and anxiety; and, finally, the first feeling of Jean's life in the fog of medication after the delivery.
Raven stared at him as she raised her hand over her mouth, her shock letting some of her own memories leak through, sour with regret -- Raven, naked in Erik's bed the night before the Cuba mission, first blond, then older, then in her natural form; Erik's words, the seductive quality of his acceptance; and, finally, the last lingering recollection of Erik kissing her before Charles severed the connection with all the finesse of a sledgehammer, mentally cringing under Raven's last blast of guilt.
"Charles..." she whispered again, but he looked away, down at his hand where it lay against smooth metal of the arm rest, still humming under the control of Erik's power. When it became obvious Charles was not going to acknowledge her, she glanced at Hank, eyes narrowed in accusation. "You knew the whole time and you didn't tell me?"
"Of course we knew," Alex said.
"But you couldn't trust me?" Raven asked, again directed at Charles.
"We were here," Hank told her. "You weren't."
"It seems I wasn't the only one keeping secrets, though, was I?" he said, pointedly first at Raven, then Erik, Raven's memories still fresh in his recollection. "I'm not sure why you're still here, Erik. You've outstayed your welcome."
"My daughter is here," Erik said. "You can't keep me away from her."
"The hell I can't," Charles said, tone steady and mild despite the desperate twist of emotions he could feel in his heart. "I mean it, Erik. Please leave. And don't return."
"You have no power of me thanks to this," Erik said, tapping a finger against the metal curve of his helmet. "I'm immune to your tricks. How do you propose you'd stopped me if I wanted to take my daughter with me?"
"Over my dead body," Alex warned, stepping forward.
"That can be arranged," Erik said with a roll of his eyes.
"And mine," Hank growled.
"And mine," Darwin added.
Charles made sure Erik was watching as he lifted his hand, pressing his fingers to the skin of his forehead. He reached out and took control of each of Erik's allies almost simultaneously, an easy task for him after so many years of practice. The only real opposition to his control was Emma who tried to flicker into her diamond form but he was faster than she had come to expect from their first encounter, and he crashed through her defenses before they'd fully formed. Compared to controlling Shaw, it was hardly work to hold the four of them immobile, even with the outrage he could feel from Raven.
"If you try, you'll do it alone," Charles told him. "And I'm serious when I say you'll have to kill us all to do it."
"Really, Charles?" Erik laughed, a bitter, angry sound. "Threats from you? Hardly something to fear."
"Perhaps you shouldn't risk it," Charles returned. "Maybe I learned more from you than you thought I had."
"Just give me a reason, Erik," Alex said, jaw clenched. "I swear to god, just breathe wrong and I'll take you down."
Charles made a halting motion toward Alex with his other hand. "I don't want to hurt anyone, especially someone I once cared about," he said, his voice breaking a little on the end of the sentence. "But it's over, Erik. Any chance you had to be part of Jean's life. It was over the moment you broke the only promise I ever asked of you, when you let Emma hurt Sean. I'm sorry but that's something I can't forgive."
For a moment, Erik's expression flickered behind his helmet and Charles was no longer looking at Magneto's cold mask – instead, it was the wrecked visage of the man he loved so recklessly, all desperation and longing and confusion, everything Erik had never learned how to express in words. "Charles..."
"Please," Charles begged, feeling the emotions swamp him until they stung like tears in his eyes. "For the last time, just go."
The unguarded expression shuttered away and the mask was back, but Erik nodded, one sharp jerk of his head. "Very well." He looked around at his team, still frozen under Charles's control. "My people?"
Charles lowered his hand from his temple and they were no longer statues frozen under his power. He tried to ignore the wounded looks Raven was sending his way, but she'd made her decision years ago and, as much as it pained him, he had no choice but to remember it.
"Come," Erik said to them, and they gathered together as they had on the beach, a line of them with Azazel in the middle, linking hands as they prepared to teleport away from the manor.
"This isn't over," Erik warned, gaze still fixed on Charles's face. Then he gave a nod that must've meant something to Azazel because they all disappeared in a flash of red smoke.
Charles released a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced up toward the young man still vibrating with anger at his side. "I'm ready for that I told you so now, Alex," he told him.
Alex's expression softened a little as he sank down to his knees, level with Charles. He laid a hand on Charles's arm. "You're not going to hear it from me."
"What do we do now?" Hank asked quietly.
"We go on with our lives, same as always," Charles said.
"And if he decides to come back?" Alex asked.
"Then we'll be prepared to deal with it," Charles answered.
Darwin let out his own deep breath, as if he'd been holding it the entire time. "I think we could all use some downtime after that," he said. "Charles, can I give you a push over to the classroom? I bet you'd like to check on Jean."
"I'd like that, if you don't mind," he agreed with a grateful smile.
"I've got it," Hank said, carefully maneuvering the wheelchair from behind. "I think we all probably want to check in on Jean."
"And Sean," Alex added.
Charles remembered the conclusion he'd come to earlier that day, about letting go of the past and focusing on the future. He was even more in need of that philosophy now. He realized that he'd been wrong when he'd thought his heart couldn't break any more than it had on the beach. Erik, it seemed, had a knack for choosing courses of action that could splinter what little of it remained. But he had his children, all of them, from Darwin down to Jean, all of whom needed him and who he needed in return. That was where his future waited.
"Yes," he said aloud, as Hank pushed him along. "I think that sounds like a brilliant idea."
**
Their new hideout was an ancient ramshackle of a house, what might have once been a stately plantation house on some small Caribbean island. It had, according to Emma, been one of Shaw's back-up safe houses, so primitive that Shaw had never thought to use it. Erik was not concerned with amenities, so it made the perfect place to wait out the trouble that had cut off Shaw's resources from them.
As soon as the house blossomed into existence around them, Erik broke from the group, stalking away from where the rest of the Brotherhood greeted Janos and began to look around their new, albeit temporary, base of operations.
They'd gotten used to moving by now and the inconsequential details had already been taken care of by one of the others -- Erik quickly found an aired-out bedroom where his bags had been left to wait for him, and he knew food would be waiting in the kitchen if he looked for it. Neither bed nor sustenance was what he craved at that moment and it only took him a few more minutes to find the alcohol stashed in a communal room that still smelled wet and musty with disuse.
Erik poured himself a drink and knocked it back before he refilled the crystal again. With a deep breath, he snatched the helmet from his head and threw it across the room where it bounced against the faded cushions of a settee.
"If you know what's good for you," he said into the air, to himself, to Emma who he knew was hovering at the edges of his consciousness. "You'll keep your powers away from me. I'm not in the mood to suffer the foolishness of any telepaths."
He could tell no real difference from the moment before, but he knew Emma had come to know his moods and obey them as needed, and the warning he'd issued was deadly serious. In fact, it didn't take a telepath to know he wanted to be left alone -- they all knew it and acted accordingly, the faint creak of the walls around him the only outward sign Erik had that he was not alone in the dilapidated manor house.
Erik had little conception of how long he stared out over the dark ocean through the open verandah doors or how long he tried to drink away his turmoil, seeking the numbness he could so often find in spirits. When it came to Charles, though, Erik had learned the hard way that nothing dulled the edge of the knife the way it once had, and it seemed he was doomed to feel every sharp twist of it in his chest, in his gut.
When he finally gave up on the liquor, he was already faintly buzzed and he leaned against the rough painted wood of the doorjamb, out across the empty sand and into the sea. The moon was barely a sliver in the black sky, stars bright and careless around it, cold and mocking like the thoughts that tumbled through his mind. Going to Charles for help had been a risk, he knew, but he hadn't expected it to affect him in the way he had. He should've, perhaps, but he had considered mind-shattering revelations to be the least of his worries when it came to Charles.
Then again, Erik had always underestimated him.
Leave it to Charles, he thought wryly, to be capable of something even mutants thought impossible. Also, leave it to Charles to think he knew what was best for everyone, to think that he had the right to keep something like a child secret from Erik when she was as much his flesh and blood as she was Charles's. It was just another instance of what had always frustrated him most about the man, even when he'd been completely fascinated by him. Erik had never wanted to be at anyone's mercy ever again, but Charles had a way of managing it without anything more than being himself, arrogant and kind, conceited and caring, so powerful that it frightened Erik even when he wanted to trust him with everything he was.
And now this -- a betrayal of Erik's desire to do just that. He had thought, in the back of his mind, that he could always trust Charles with what had been between them and, in some ways, the truth was worse than the fabrication he'd believed. Believing that Charles had been warming his bed with Moira had been a blow but nothing to knowing that Charles had planned to hide his own child from him. His own child, the only family he knew of he had in the world. It felt like crueler than any infidelity could have.
The air had long grown cool by the time Erik let himself think of Jean, who he had wastefully spent so much of the last few days trying not to think of. He recalled her inquisitive blue eyes, painfully reminiscent of Charles's, her unruly red curls, how easy she'd seemed in his presence. He thought about the precious few details he had of her life -- she'd been born in July, she hadn't manifested any powers. He didn't know if she walked yet or talked much, if she'd been colicky infant, how long it had taken for her to start to sleep through the night. He didn't know and Charles had never wanted him to; if Charles's wishes were obeyed, Erik would never even see either of them again, a thought too painful for him to contemplate.
Not that Erik had any idea of what he'd do to avoid that fate. As much as his anger had led him to make veiled threats at Charles, even his anger hadn't blinded him to the fact that his life was no place for a child, especially not an infant. While Charles had chosen to hide away and gather children, Erik had chosen to meet the world head-on. His team was a team of soldiers, adults ready to do battle with the humans who hated them. Erik would be damned if he let Charles keep him from his daughter, but a kidnapping was not the answer.
Whatever the answer was, it didn't come to Erik that night. He didn't remember falling asleep but he woke up sitting on the sandy verandah, the sun warming his skin through the layers of his clothes. Given his state, he was grateful he didn't encounter any of the others as he made his way to his room and found more suitable attire for their new location to don after a much-needed shower. The ancient pipes rattled in the walls as he waited for the cool water to trickle over him, washing away the sand he'd already accumulated on his skin as well as the fogginess of his brain.
Coffee helped, too, enough that Erik could entertain faint humor at the fact he still hadn't encountered another soul in the house, everyone careful to give him the space they thought his black humor deserved. No doubt Janos had been filled in on the explosion that had preceded their departure from the Xavier mansion, warning him against any accidental interaction with their leader. Of course, for all Erik knew, Azazel had teleported them off somewhere to leave him to his thoughts in complete solitude.
That last theory was disproved a few hours into the new day when Erik heard the tell-tale sound of approaching footsteps and looked up from the table he'd commandeered for his papers to see Mystique watching him from across the room. She was once again gloriously naked and unashamed of her glistening blue skin, not covered up as she'd been in deference to Charles's delicate sensibilities.
"I think you've had long enough to brood," she announced as she approached, hands behind her back. "I think it's time to -- what's the saying? -- beard the lion in his den?"
"I'm not brooding," he told her, rattling a blueprint at her. "I'm working."
"We're in the middle of nowhere on lockdown until who knows when," she reminded him. "You're avoiding."
He let out a deep sigh to illustrate how little patience he had for her meddling. "Did you want something in particular, Mystique?"
Her expression fell, losing its hint of attitude. "You never told me. About you and Charles."
"It wasn't any of your business," he said.
She raised an eyebrow -- or at least what would've been a brow on someone else, but on her was a line of pointed scales. "Even when I climbed into your bed that night, you didn't think it was my business that you were sleeping with my brother?"
"It was only once," Erik said before he thought better of it. "And, no, it still wasn't your business."
The incredulity obvious on her face only grew. "That's even worse," she said, sinking down into a nearby chair.
Erik didn't want to know but he couldn't stop himself from asking. "Exactly how is that worse?"
Raven looked down, ducking her head a little. Erik had learned it was a sign of embarrassment. "Charles isn't exactly, um, shy," she admitted in a rush. "I'm figuring if it was only once, he held off on making his move and that's not what he does usually. Meaning...it was unusual for him."
He really didn't want to think about Charles's sexual habits before they'd met any more than he'd wanted to think about a potential liaison with Moira. "Probably more unusual than he was expecting," Erik observed.
"Yeah, definitely," Mystique agreed, but her mood didn't lighten. "I can't imagine what it must've been like for him."
It was something Erik had tried not to think about in an attempt to limit his sympathy toward Charles's decisions. He wanted to hold on to his anger, let his resentment act as a reminder of why he couldn't trust Charles the way he wanted. "He seems to have handled it well enough."
She glared at him. "He's had a lot to handle in the last few years."
Erik agreed to her assertion with a nod. "Yes," he admitted softly, thinking of the first time he'd seen Charles bound to his wheelchair because of Erik's own carelessness. "He has."
"God, Charles, sometimes you are a such selfless bastard," Mystique said after a moment, shaking her head in what seemed to be some confusing blend of sadness and amusement. She glanced over at Erik. "I bet you didn't have any idea."
"About Jean?" Erik snorted. "I think that was obvious."
She shook her head. "About how he felt about you. I told you he loved you."
"You told me he loved Moira," he reminded her.
"I told you I could see how much he loved Jean's other parent," she objected. "Who I thought was Moira, at that time, but who I now know is you." She sat back in her chair, tapping a small square of paper against her thigh as she became lost in thought. Erik hadn't noticed it before but she must've had it in her hands when she came in the room. "He let us both go without ever saying a word."
"Your brother didn't let me do anything and if you're saying you wouldn't have come without his permission, I'm disappointed in you," he told her. "Charles has no right to make decisions for you."
"You're right, he doesn't and I let him get away with it for too long," she said. "But he's still my brother. Even when he pisses me off, I care about him -- and his opinions."
"His opinions are that we are wrong in what we're doing," Erik reminded her, anger creeping in even though he knew Mystique wasn't the proper target for it. "He thinks we should roll over and let the humans murder us in the name of peace and solidarity. Do you agree?"
"No," she said immediately, frowning. "I'm dedicated to the cause, you know that! But..."
"But?" he intoned with derision.
She looked down at the slip of paper in her hand. "Charles asked me how I'd feel if something I did was the reason that someone hated mutants and it ended up hurting Jean. I hadn't ever thought about it like that."
"Charles wants you to think that we can live in harmony with people who want to kill us just for being who we are," Erik argued. "Surely you see the flaw in his integrationist delusions."
"We shouldn't have to hide," she agreed, fierce and lovely in her utter conviction. "But humans don't even know about us yet, not on a wide enough scale. I just wonder if we're...premature."
"Better to wait until they're rounding us up for the slaughterhouse?"
"You know, you want to fault Charles for not telling you about Jean, I get that," she said. "I do. Charles is an arrogant prick half the time and he doesn't even see it. But at least he's thinking about Jean, about how things he does will affect her."
"I'm thinking about all of us!" Erik was on his feet, leaning over the table as he made his point. "Every mutant on the planet and all the ones who'll follow us. I'm making sure they won't ever have to live through what I have."
"Don't you worry about it being us that exposes mutants to the world?" Mystique asked. "What if we're what makes people take notice in the first place?"
"I thought you were done with hiding, Mystique," Erik said, coming around to lean against the table. "Isn't that what you just said?"
"Maybe the world isn't as white as Charles wants it to be," she said, rising to her own feet. "But maybe it's not as black as you see it. Maybe, if you both weren't arrogant pricks, you'd see that there was a place in the middle that works for everyone."
Erik didn't bother answering; he crossed his arms and glowered at her from behind one raised eyebrow.
"There's no talking to you sometimes," she said, throwing her arms up in disgust. "I think I like you better when you're drunk."
"I didn't ask for this little heart-to-heart with you in the first place," he pointed out.
"Neither did I," she said sourly. She held out the paper she'd been holding. "I just came to give you this."
Erik looked at it suspiciously until she started waving it vigorously under his nose, at which point he took it to avoid being slapped in the face with it. "What is it?" he asked, even as the answer presented itself when he turned it over.
What he held in his hand was a photograph -- a snapshot, in color but obviously amateur. It showed Charles, sleeves rolled up, hair mussed and smiling as if on the verge of laughter with Jean positioned in front of him, one chubby hand in the air as she let out an open-mouthed laugh. They'd obviously been moving when the photo had been snapped, so the edges weren't as crisp as they could've been but the subjects were unmistakable.
"Where did you get this?" he asked softly, shocked by the faces staring back at him.
"Hank has a Land camera, you know the kind?" Mystique asked. When he looked at her blankly, she rolled her eyes and continued. "Anyway, he had several so I figured he wouldn't miss one if I helped myself. So I did." She glanced down at the photo Erik still held between them. "I also figured that you probably needed it more than I did now."
Long after Mystique had quietly left him to his maps and plans, Erik stood still, looking down at the photograph clutched in his hand.
End of Part 8